It's Marie(s) Day!

[x-shinobi.livejournal.com]

Log the First: Suffering from withdrawl due to his last pack of cigarettes being stolen, Shinobi stops on his way to bum a smoke off of Sarah to see Marie-Ange, after ominous talk involving his father's sideburns. Fidgetting, sketches, and eggplants are also discussed.


Twenty minutes wasn't so bad. Really. He can keep his mind quiet an extra couple of minutes, keep ahold of his reigns without any problem at all. Yessiree, he was in *complete* control. Shinobi crisply spins on his heel and backtracks the five steps he'd taken out of the student kitchen on his way to the liquor cabinet, silently shaking himself and fidgetting with his red pen, twirling it between his fingers as he paced the floor. Complete control. Zen-like, even. Right.

Marie-Ange, looking somewhat worse for wear, and more than a bit nervous, skids into the room, and closes the door. "If Piotr or Mister Marko come looking for me, espically to remove any of my important parts, I am not here. I moved to Norway. "

Shinobi manages not to jump - much - as the door's closed behind him, twisting around to look over his shoulder and blinking owlishly. "Norway," he repeats, nodding once and taking a soothing breath. "Got it."

~Oh, thank God. No questions.~ Marie-Ange drops, entirely relieved, into a chair, and plops a worn sketchpad on the table. "This is complicated."

"Life always is," he replies with a slight shrug, eyeing an empty chair for a moment before he crosses over to sit. Shinobi continues to play with the pen between his fingers, bouncing one knee beneath the table. "What's up? You sounded spooked. Or as spooked as someone can sound via text."

Marie-Ange flips over the sketchpad, turning pages with the familiarity of, well, the owner of the sketchpad. "I hope it is a coincidence, but you mentioned sideburns, I remembered one of the drawings I did... " The page she turns to has a charcoal sketch of an older man with mutton-chop style sideburns. It is an uncanny likeness to Sebestian Shaw. She shrugs. "He shows up a lot in dreams. Usually with Ms. Frost, or Manuel in them too."

To his credit, Shinobi catches himself just short of snapping the pen in half when the sketchpad is turned towards him, regarding the portrait for all of two seconds before finding something else to look at. The tabletop is remarkably fascinating. "The nose is a little off," he says after a moment. "It's a little stronger than that."

"Fut!" Marie-Ange glanced at the door, just to make sure it has not somehow magically opened itself in time to let a wandering student catch her swearing. "I should probably tell Ms. Frost, and.. give you a copy of the dream log, I think?"

If the swearing bothers Shinobi, he isn't showing it, reluctantly looking up again with a slow nod. "Probably," he agrees, though he doesn't sound very enthused at the prospect.

Marie-Ange slumps in her chair until she can rest her head on its back, and covers her face with the sketchpad. "I hate this part."

"You don't have to, if it's that bad," Shinobi offers, managing what he hopes is a sympathetic smile. "I mean, definitely pass it on to Emma, but.. I could live a long time not knowing, I think."

"It was not horrible, just not good either." Marie-Ange trails off, voice already muffled under the paper. She straightens, letting the sketchpad fall into her lap. "It is weird, and headache inducing, and I am trying not to think about what it means when I see people in dreams three months before I meet them. "

"Well, hopefully, you'll never have to meet him," Shinobi shrugs, gesturing towards the sketchbook with his pen before he goes back to fidgetting with it, if a bit more clumsily now. "He's headache-inducing all by himself."

"I get that impression. Even in those dreams, no one seemed very fond of him, and I think once Ms. Frost was ... throwing chess pieces, I think." She shrugs. "Are you going to be all right?" Marie-Ange gestures towards the pen, obviously indicating the fidgeting. "This is a smoking fidget, yes? It is not a "Saw spooky drawings of people that the artist should have never seen." fidget?"

"I was fidgety before you got here, don't worry," Shinobi nods, smiling a touch at the worry. "I'll be fine. Sarah has some smokes for me downstairs, but I wanted to do this first, y'know?"

Marie-Ange nods, obviously relieved. "Oh good. I think. Sometimes I think everyone should be having a fidget over it, though. " She glances at the door yet again, still no magical openings. "Do you think that I can avoid telling Manuel? I am entirely sure he won't take it well."

"If Emma thinks he should know, she can tell him," Shinobi replies after a moment's thought, nodding to himself. "I doubt she'd want to put you through rehashing it any more than necessary."

"Or being turned into a vegetable. If I get turned into a vegetable, I can't help grade French homework." Marie-Ange nods, smiling impishly.

Shinobi chuckles, cracking a genuine grin at that. "This is very, very true. Vegetables can't really do very much. Well, the edible kind can do more than the comatose-people kind, I suppose, but I don't think he'd know how to turn you into one of those."

"I should hope not. I would make a very bad eggplant." Marie-Ange grins back. "Clarice, on the other hand. Although eggplants do not get insomnia, or headaches, so maybe it would work out."

"They probably don't dream, either," Shinobi agrees, his grin softening a bit. "Ah, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who'd notice if you weren't around anymore. We'll have to avoid the eggplant-ness at all costs."

"Yes, no eggplants." The oddness of the conversation finally gets to Marie-Ange and she puts her head down on the table, giggling uncontrollably.

Shinobi grins to himself, reaching over to lightly pat the back of Marie-Ange's head. "I think I may get a little surreal when I don't smoke, in addition to the fidgetting, perhaps?"

Through a series of giggles, Marie-Ange answers. "It has been one of those kinds of days, where everything is funny after a short time." She recovers, and sits back up. "I think it has been one of those months, now that I think about it more. If I do not laugh at eggplants, I will end up hiding in my room from everyone."

"Well, they're very easy to mock, eggplants are," Shinobi nods, somehow managing to say it with a perfectly straight face. "Hiding's no fun, no, so.. mock away. Hell, you can mock me, if you really want. Only one besides Sarah I'll make the offer to, too."

"Mais, tu n'est pas une aubergine." Marie-Ange crinkles her nose in amusement. "You are not an eggplant though."

"Not yet, anyway," Shinobi agrees, waggling his eyebrows before shifting to slide to his feet. "I may exhaust myself with my fidgetting if I don't go and get my nicotine soon, though, and while that might not turn me into an eggplant, I don't want to fall into a fatigue-induced coma or something." With a smile and a parting wave of his fingers, he turns to leave, though he pauses to peek back inside when he's almost out the door. "Your art is very good," he manages, his smile briefly going a bit awkward before he slips out into the hall, to make the trip down to the basement for his smokes.

-----

Log the Second: After having a smoke doesn't do much to calm Shinobi's head, he heads to the gym to indulge in some mindless activity. Marie arrives, to deliver the pack of cigarettes she picked up for him in town. Sort-of-bonding ensues.



Mindless activities are good, and a mindless activity was just what Shinobi needed after his chat with Marie-Ange, doubly do after the half-pack of cigarettes Sarah had saved for him hadn't helped quiet his mind very much. One doesn't get much more mindless than chin-ups. There's nothing to them, really. He's in the gym partaking of the activity, not having bothered changing out of his slacks before beginning the workout, though his dress shirt and tie are in a rumpled heap on the floor, leaving him with a tanktop that's obviously seen better days, if the couple of little slashes in the back are any indication. Not that he seems to care. Too busy concentrating on going up and down.

The gym door swings open. "Hey." Marie comes in, tossing a carton of cigarettes lightly from one hand to the other. "If you're taking up being healthy, I could find another home for these."

Blinking once, Shinobi pauses with his chin resting on top of the bar, trying not to visibly perk *too* much when he catches sight of the carton. "Nah," he decides, dropping down to his feet with a relieved grin. "I'd have to find a new vice, and smoking's probably better for me than liquor is. Really do appreciate you picking those up for me, Marie, thank you."

"It's not a problem. I'd have gone anyway, and I needed an excuse not to kill Manuel." She tossed him the carton and shrugged. "I'd rather not break my not-killing-students track record on him anyway. He'd probably just get all egotistical about it -- post-humously, that is."

"Probably," Shinobi agrees, quirking an eyebrow slightly as he lifts a hand to catch the carton. He'd probably admire his own restraint later, since he didn't immediately descend upon the cigarettes like a starved wolf given a meal. "Do I dare ask what he did, or should I remain blissfully ignorant?"

"He called Jean a failure." Marie's jaw tightens and her eyes grow dangerously hard. She obviously isn't anywhere near done being angry about this.

Shinobi's expression softens, mouth forming a small O as he sets the carton of cigarettes down on top of his discarded shirt, quietly regarding Marie for a long moment before deciding it was safe to speak again. "You knew her." It's a question, really.. but one he's pretty sure he knows the answer to. "If.. well, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Certainly not to me."

"You just don't do that." Marie's face is pale and she hugs herself, fingers tight on her own arms. Her voice gets thin and quiet as she speaks. "She wasn't a failure. She was perfect."

"She definitely sounded like she had it all together," Shinobi says after a moment, trying not to sound like he was trying to walk on eggshells. Dealing with people isn't one of his strong points - especially not grieving people who could intimately introduce his face to the ceiling. "I never got to hear her speak in person, but I've read some transcripts."

"She was everything I'll never be," Marie sounds almost wistful. "I miss her. She had a way of making it seem like things were going to work out. And when she talked... it made a difference. Nothing I could imagine accomplishing could come close. Just one of those people, you know?" She looks up at Shinobi with a little smile. "Special."

Shinobi nods slowly, matching her smile, though his is quickly aimed down at his shoes once he realizes it's there. "I've known one or two people like that.. and I think you're being a little hard on yourself, Marie. You read your posts on the journals lately? You're waking a lot of people up. Making a difference."

Marie shakes her head. "I try. I admit, I am trying even if I don't exactly know what it is I'm reaching for. Not to be like her, not ever, because that's like the moon trying to be the sun, but... just trying. The world is full of gaps, and I want to bridge the ones I can before too many people fall in." She puts her hands in her pockets, rocking a little on her heels. "Don't think for a minute that I know what I'm doing," she says dryly. "But I'm making the effort. Did you want to have a cigarette before your lungs make off with that carton?"

"Nah, I'm okay for a while yet," Shinobi shrugs, waving a dismissive hand back towards the carton before he stuffs his hands into his pockets, lifting his head again with a lopsided grin. "Thanks, though. And for the record, you certainly *sound* like you know what you're doing, the bulk of the time. More so than I do, at any rate."

Marie wanders over to sit on a mat near him. "I read a lot. And... I have some perspectives that other people don't get to have." She taps her forehead. "I think about people a lot. I kind of have to. And I love this place. It's what I've got. I have to do my best."

Shinobi nods in understanding, glancing up at the bar for a moment before opting to sit down as well, folding his hands in his lap. "I can relate, sort of. Not about.." With a helpless shrug, he taps his own forehead with a fingertip, smiling wryly. "..but about this place being what you've got. I don't think I have anywhere else."

Marie looks sympathetic, wrapping her arms around her shins and resting her chin on her knees. "How are you feeling? I mean, after the whole stupid bad-hat invasion and all."

"That actually didn't bother me very much," Shinobi reluctantly admits, looking somewhat guiltily down towards his lap. "Not sure why it didn't, but.. I'm okay."

"Brilliant." Marie smiles at him warmly, relieved. "Seriously, everything hits people differently. It wasn't even the raid, the way it affected me personally, that got me so much as it was other stuff. I think I've got it worked out, mostly."

Well, that wasn't the reaction he'd expected. Blinking twice, Shinobi looks up, eyeing her warily for a moment before giving a quiet sigh of relief. "I know all about 'other stuff' driving one moderately insane," he agrees, smiling wryly.

"Other stuff? Nah." Marie holds up her hand. "You'll tell me or someone responsible if it's serious? And I don't have to try and pry something out of you before you blow a fuse?"

Shinobi holds up his hands, smiling wryly. "Already mentioned it to Emma, Scott and Logan, so I'm pretty sure it's being looked into, and.. I don't know. Not sure I have fuses left to blow, sometimes." With a shrug, he grins, raking a hand's fingers back through his hair before both hands drop back into his lap.

"Phew." Marie sprawls backward on the mat in an exaggerated gesture of relief. "You're a treasure, Shinobi. God. The whole world feels like it's made of eggshells right now."

"Me. A treasure." Could he possibly sound more incredulous? Shinobi peers down after Marie skeptically, trying not to laugh outright at the thought. "It does feel like pussyfooting around's the only thing to do sometimes, doesn't it?"

"It does." Marie puts her hands to her head. "It's driving me nuts. I walk down the halls and can count off traumas and issues as I go past doors. When I'm the least of my worries, something's really wrong. I just wish people were here who can't be here, and that's useless, but I can't help it. I feel like I'm racing about and doing nothing at the end of the day."

"Well, I have issues up the yin yang, but you certainly don't need to pussyfoot around me," Shinobi offers, shrugging his shoulders. "And hey, you aren't doing nothing. You got me smokes. That means I'll be less likely to go on some kind of unlawful spree later." He flashes a grin, wiggling his eyebrows.

Marie bats gently at him, laughing. "Oh, that's me. Keeper of the peace. Or is that keeper of the pieces? I don't know. Man." She props herself up on her elbows. "I can't take my chances with anything interesting but I'm about to take up smoking just to have a vice to fall back on."

Shinobi beams as he's batted at, suitably pleased at managing to get the conversation to progress from verbally walking on eggshells to laughing. Much better. "I'm usually much better supplied than this. If you do decide to take it up, I doubt Sarah would mind much if I invited you to join us for a smoke out on the porch now and then."

"I'll see. It might ruin my reputation as a good girl." She's laughing at herself and at the irony that she's ever had that reputation. Suddenly she stops laughing and eyes Shinobi. "I do still have a reputation as a good girl, don't I?"

"I'm actually not sure," Shinobi admits, casting a brief look up towards the ceiling. "I don't pay the gossip much mind if I can possibly avoid it, in a likely futile hope that the gossip'll ignore me if I ignore it."

"Rats." Marie sighs dramatically. "I suck at gossip," she confesses.

"There are far worse things to suck at," Shinobi shrugs. "Really, gossip is probably a *good* thing to suck at, just on principle."

"There's too much else to worry about," Marie says, looking pensive. "I don't have any secrets anyway, so people can say what they like, really, if they do. I honestly don't think they do. I'm not nearly interesting enough." She gives Shinobi an impish grin at that.

"Everybody's interesting to somebody," Shinobi counters, grinning lopsidedly. "I find pretty much everybody here interesting, but that may just be because I've never been around so many people my own age that weren't.." He pauses for a moment, trying to think of a different word to use, before he gives up and uses the one he'd originally intended on. "..normal."

"We're real short on normal here, yep." Marie sits up, shaking back her hair. "Everyone here interests me too, but too often it's in the 'what's the count on this grenade and where'd the pin go?' kind of way."

"Promise I'll try and explode as far away from here as possible, if I do at all." Shinobi rubs at his nose for a moment, casting a brief look towards the door. "I'm thinking a talk with the doctor Xavier's bringing in this weekend would be good, even if I wouldn't really be talking about the attack."

"Samson?" Marie nods. "That's not a bad idea. Sometimes talking is good just so you can hear yourself. I spent a lot of time in therapy this fall and I'm in no hurry to go back but I do recommend it if you end up liking him enough."

"Well, I do talk, but I don't think quietly talking to myself while I grade papers works quite so well," Shinobi shrugs, grinning sheepishly. "The paper isn't very good at pointing out things of interest I didn't realize I said, after all. Shrinks are good at that."

Marie laughs at him. "Well, yes. There is that. I certainly benefitted from my time with the one I had."

Shinobi nods sagely, cracking a smile. "Besides, with everything I have going on up here sometimes?" He taps his temple with a finger, shrugging. "Doesn't take a trained professional to see I could use a trained professional."