Scott and Jean-Paul, Thursday evening

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

A brief encounter in the kitchen gives Jean-Paul some ideas regarding recruitment.


"Remind me that you're not supposed to let the job drive you to drink," Scott said from the kitchen doorway. He gave Jean-Paul a somewhat wan smile as he headed over to the fridge. "It sometimes bears repeating." He took out a bottle of water, then sat down on one of the kitchen stools, setting the water down, and a small bottle of Advil beside it. "The Stepfords have been acting out again. I just had to be the one their latest victim flagged down in the halls."

"I'm afraid I am the wrong man to approach for this. I think I've had more social drinks since I turned up here again since...hm. Perhaps since ever." His return smile was cautious to start with, then faded. He turned his attention back to the slab of tongue on the cutting board and resumed slicing it into precise, almost translucent strips. "What did they do?"

"Something that earned them a trip to Charles in the morning. Where they will be told, very sternly, that we don't make our classmates hear voices. Especially, we don't do that, and then send ads for straitjackets to their emails." Scott rolled his eyes, then grimaced.

Jean-Paul frowned, stirred the peanut sauce on the stove briefly, then went back to his task. "So making someone doubt their sanity only rates a lecture?"

"No, that would be just the start. I don't know precisely what Charles does in terms of ethics lessons for errant psis - not my department. I'm not really equipped." Scott sighed, and opened the Advil bottle. "Yet the hard cases do continue to be hard... I have my doubts sometimes. Then again, Jean grew up to be an ethical and fully functioning adult, and apparently she was something of a horror as a teenager."

Jean-Paul snorted and tossed a handful of tongue into the wok. "I suppose grounding would be an exercise in futility when the person in question can carry on just fine from their room as anywhere else. I've wondered sometimes how more teeps do not wind up utter sociopaths. Or insane." He gave the meat a quick turn and stir, then deposited the barely-seared meat onto a waiting plate before repeating the process.

"Shhh," Scott said, apparently entirely serious as he downed a couple of Advil. "They'll hear you."

"Tres drole." He tried to wing a lettuce leaf at Scott, but it simply wasn't a very aerodynamic missile and velocity only went so far; it landed on the target's shoe.

Scott leaned over and picked it up. "More seriously, I'm glad I only work with fully-grown psis. Not that they don't have their quirks, too, but the ones wearing leathers can generally be trusted not to do anything too stupid."

"Maybe I should ditch the teaching idea and go back to skinfits and team training, hm?" The speedster finally joined Scott at the table and began assembling lettuce wraps. "Want one?"

Scott, who'd raised an eyebrow at the first comment, looked thoughtful at the second. "... sure. Smells pretty good, and I spent the afternoon in the Situation Room. I managed to lose a whole file of Danger Room scenarios. Had to reconstruct them."

Jean-Paul made a 'help yourself' gesture at the plates of meat and vegetables, responding to Scott's raised eyebrow with a shrug. "Doubts and doubts. Nevermind. I think that is supposed to be healthy anyway."

"Well, I think I said this back when we first talked about the issue, but.... there's no rush on resolving those doubts," Scott pointed out, and helped himself. Food would probably help banish the headache, too.

"You did. And it is no fault of yours that I am being impatient about it, oh my captain." Jean-Paul's smile was sly for a moment, but then he sobered again. "Just the usual tug of war between what one wants to try, what is familiar, and a healthy ego reminding you which one is more likely to send you flat on your face."

"Honestly, I find it refreshing. I'd much rather see a reasoned decision, even following a lengthy period of tug of war, than the decision to jump in with both feet because it might be fun." Scott essayed a shudder.

"Is this experience or a personal nightmare?"

"A little bit from column A, a little bit from column B..." Scott shook his head, chewing and swallowing before he went on. "I've had my doubts about the motivations of some of our trainees and team members, over the years... sometimes I've been right, sometimes I've been wrong. I try not to judge, but it's hard not to, at least in my own head."

"It is what we do, I suppose. So long as we let reality intrude on our impressions, it does little enough harm." He sighed. "The problem being, if I fall on my face as a teacher, it is not just my nose that gets bloodied."

"Fortunately," Scott said in his best 'buck up and stop brooding' voice, "messing up in the classroom rarely actually leads to bloody noses. Let alone anything worse. Unless you're concerned about the New Mutants program," he went on wryly, "in which case, I don't have any reassuring platitudes."

"Thank you. I'd almost managed to stop thinking about that." Jean-Paul grimaced. "I still need to approach someone about assistance with that. Any suggestions for staff who are susceptible to stiff-necked groveling?"

Scott spread his hands wide. "Sorry to be completely unhelpful, but no, I'm afraid not. Best thing I can suggestion is asking around. Part of me wants to suggest asking some of the younger X-Men, since they're a little closer to the kids than us old folks..."

"That is not a terrible idea. Gibney, perhaps, if his new duties allow him the time. He seems mellow enough." Jean-Paul drummed his fingers thoughtfully along the table, already turning the idea over in his head.

"Lesson number one from Mr. Gibney - 'My kidnapping record is sacrosanct. Do not aspire to beat it,'" Scott quipped. "I can see the value of it, I think..."

"Or him and Van Dyne both. She certainly has experience interacting with the younger crew."

"Jan's only been kidnapped the once," Scott said helpfully.

"How many of those pills did you take?"

"Not nearly enough. I still get headaches sometimes - eyestrain, emphasis on the singular," Scott said, tapping the appropriate temple. "But more seriously... if you want to ask them, you should. I could see them getting along with the students, which is half the battle, with this sort of thing."

"I will do that. After I've eaten and come up with an angle of approach. This is why you get to be leader, you know."

Comments

[x-wildchild.livejournal.com]

Kyle says yes, he does not want to give up the trophy, because as long as HE has it, it means no one else has gotten kidnapped a LOT and that means they're doing their jobs right.

When he has that trophy for ten years, he's throwing a party. Dead serious.