Wednesday evening, the ol' bait-and-switch

[x-coldhands.livejournal.com]

Bobby decides to be antisocial and grade papers at the desk in his room, rather than in the study room down the hall. Fewer interruptions this way, and while he'll generally take any interruption of the tedious process and be quite happy for it, that won't get the job done. And besides, he's feeling a bit--isolated from the other kids now, with the loss of access to the student journal, and his voluntary unsubscribe from the kids' journal, as well. Things are changing.

His work is interrupted not long after he's started however, by a familiar sounding knock on the door. A series of short light raps, the opening bars of a song actually - Alison's typical knocking on doors lately. She leans in the doorway, waiting for him to answer, knowing only too well that he's there. And while he doesn't exactly have a reason to avoid her, he has been scarce in general lately. She sighs, knowing only too well he won't be thrilled with why she's come to see him.

He starts at the knock, rising and crossing his room. His face lights up as he sees who's on the other side of the door. "Alison, hey." He takes a step back, giving her space to enter, slipping his hand into his pocket as his heartrate increases slightly, trying not to stare at her.

She slips inside, closing the door behind her absently as she gives him a once over, looking for the signs of fatigue that were still present when they were in Mexico, and somehow never seem to have left since... they got him back. "Hey," she answers back softly, with a smile. "Grading papers?" she asks, eyes flicking over to his desk.

He nods, stepping over to cap the red marker he uses to mark the papers. "Yeah...always glad for an interruption, though." He grins and sits on the edge of his bed, quickly glancing around to make sure there's no underwear lying around or anything, not that he could really do much about it at this point. "So, what's up?" Several topics flit through his head--the recent attacks, Lorna's recovery, the whole mess from Sunday, which he still knows little about, himself.

"Mmm, mayhem, chaos and destruction, same old same old..." she murmurs wryly, wandering over to the desk to grasp the back of the chair and dragging it back with her, turning it around and stradling it as she sits down as well. "You'd think we ran a jail here or something, sometimes..." she murmurs, more to herself than anything else as she sighs tiredly, still looking at him - and hiding her concern He looks worse than before, which could easily be explained away on the attacks, but Alison's been watching his progress (or lack thereof) ever since they brought him back to the mansion... and knows she's been right to worry about him all this time.

"Yeah. Never a dull day at Mutant High, eh?" He gives her a tired smile, his hand rising to rub at the back of his neck, trying to relax the sore muscles there. "How's Miles doing?"

"Better than most, not as good as some," she shakes her head a bit. "Having nightmares - but he had those before too, so it's not exactly new. And here is still, I've been told, a lot better than there." There being the freaksnow, of that there's no doubt at all.

She tilts her head to the side and gives him a pensive look. "And how're you doing?"

He nods, glad to hear that Miles is adjusting, even if it's a slow process. Who wouldn't expect it to be, after all? "Me?" He smiles, hand tucked in his pockets. "I'm fine."

Oh, she's heard that one before. Many times over, in fact. She gives him a somewhat wry smile, and shakes her head slowly. "You don't look all that fine, hon."

His smile falters slightly. "Oh, I'm just tired, really. Trying to adjust to classes, and teaching, and studying...I just need to find my groove." He thinks that sounds plausible enough, and nods.

"You've been tired for a while now, Bobby," Alison says, simply. "Are you still having nightmares?" They've never spoken of what exactly, happened to Bobby while he was being held by the FoH. Hank knows she's guessed - the signs of trauma evident really, the screaming nightmares of his first nights a dead giveaway on many levels. She looks tired, suddenly while looking at him - weary and concerned, but equally determined to not let this go on any longer. Whatever it might take.

Bobby drops his eyes and mumbles, "Sometimes." They'd been worse since the most recent attack, but he didn't think he needed to mention this. "Not as often as I did at first," he adds quickly, looking up at her again, in an effort to reassure her that All is Well. This really isn't a subject he cares to discuss in any detail.

"Sometimes," she repeats softly, the shadows in his eyes saying far more than his words. All is Not Well, she knows, and won't be unless... something is done. "You had nightmares every night, at first. Several a night." She keeps looking at him - no pity in her gaze, oh no. But pain is there, and grief.

He nods, certainly not needing her to remind her of the first few weeks after they'd found him. "Really, though...it's gotten much better. I hardly ever have them, now." It's only a small stretching of the truth, he rationalizes. And they're truly nowhere near as disorienting and terrifying as they were at first. Just...disturbing, sometimes.

"Mmm." She looks down at her hands, clasped over the back of the chair, and considers how to present matters to him. "Bobby... would you do me a favor?" She looks up at him, clearly determined to see this through, suspecting he won't like it in the least.

"Sure." He smiles, having no idea what's coming, but he'd do about anything for Alison. "What can I do for you?" His eyes drift over her features, his expression softening as he drinks in her beauty. How in the world had this happened, and what is he going to do about it now? Clearly questions to ponder later.

It's unfair and hitting him when he least expects it, but there's just no way to bring this up properly with him, she knows. "The Professor has invited a friend of his to come over, to talk to some of the students." Oh, she hates herself. Sneaking a way in to get him to agree. But this might work. It just might. "About the attack that happened not long ago, as well as the incident last Sunday..." She bites her lip, then gives him a pleading look. "Would you talk to him as well, please?"

Okay, he's confused. "About the attack? I guess so..." Really, it hadn't affected him that much, even less so now that Angelo's getting better, and John's...not guilty of helping the black clad men. "Why, though?" He can see why some of the younger kids could use someone to talk to, and the older ones that had been more directly involved in the attack, like Marie, and Piotr.

Oh, this will come back to haunt her she suspects, although if it means Bobby getting help despite himself, so be it. "Oh, probably just being an old worrywart, you know me," she murmurs, which isn't lying, exactly. "Besides, it can't hurt any, can it?" She smiles crookedly, hiding her relief at his answer with ease, years of practice at acting serving her well. "It'll make me feel better." She laughs quietly, shaking her head. "Silly thing to say, but there you go."

He shrugs lightly, seeing no harm in talking to someone for a few minutes about the attack, if she really wants him to. "All right, then." He grins, drinking in her smile, feeling a flutter in his chest that it's a smile just for him, although he chides himself to stop acting like a silly schoolboy over her. She's already seeing someone, and he's just a kid, to her.

"Thank you," she breathes out, smiling at him brilliantly. And then deciding that leaving well enough alone is a good move now, because he's said yes, and that's what she was hoping for, after all. Lost in her concerns for him and for the life of her, not noticing in the least his reaction to her. She pulls herself up, neatly pulling the chair from underneath her and setting about bringing it back to the desk. "Papers, I have too," she intones wryly, with a mock air of martyrdom.

Bobby shoots to his feet, looking disappointed. "You're leaving already?" It slips out before he can stop it, and the only thing that keeps the blush from rising in his cheeks is some quick lowering of his body temperature on his face, his breath leaving his mouth in a frosty vapor. His eyes widen at this, and he forces his internal temperature a bit higher, not intending to manifest it so obviously. "I mean...yeah, I should get back to..." he waves a hand at his desk, his heart pounding in his throat, he's sure she can see it, and damn it, he can feel his hands growing cold, beyond his control. Deeper into the pockets with them.

Looking down as she sets the chair back in place, Alison laughs quietly. "I can hear them calling me from here," she rolls her eyes, groaning. "Alison! Come back! Or else we'll pile up while you're not looking, and next thing you know, it'll take you twice the time to grade us! Honestly, the things breed like rabbits." She snorts, shaking her head.

Bobby laughs nervously. "Yeah...they, uh...do that." God, he's making an idiot of himself, here. "Well, I guess you'd better get back to them, then." He reaches out for the door, then quickly reconsiders and shoves his hand back in his pocket as he sees the frost forming on the doorknob when his hand is still inches away. Turning abruptly, he crosses to his desk, instead, ostensibly looking down at the still ungraded papers as he sneaks sidelong glances at Alison.

"Sure thing," she smiles at him easily, reaching out to pat his arm absently before heading for the door herself. She notes the cooler metal easily, but doesn't think too much on it, thinking that the talk about seeing a psychiatrist perhaps upset him more than he let on to her. "I'll see you later, hon!" she beams at him, before opening the door and stepping out in the doorway, closing it carefully behind her.

The moment she's gone, he sinks into the desk chair she vacated, burying his face in his frosty hands. "I'm in trouble," he moans quietly, letting his head slip to the desk and beating it there gently a few times. He sighs and tugs the papers toward him.

Outside in the hallway, Alison pauses for a moment, spine stiffening as she tilts her head to the side, thinking. "Nah," she finally decides, shaking her head before resuming her walk down the hallway.