xp_logs | Nathan and Kyle, Friday morning (Reply)

Kyle happens upon Nathan sitting beside the memorial stone, and notes the black eye from the previous night. he and Nathan debate tilting at windmills.

He'd intended to do this yesterday, but between work and then tracking down Lense, there hadn't been the time. Sitting crosslegged on the winter-yellowed grass at the top of the ridge, Nathan balanced the notebook on his knee, staring down at the lake for a long moment before he started writing, the words flowing easily, wonder of wonders. There was a small bouquet of flowers sitting beside the memorial stone. He had no idea who'd put them there. He supposed there were a few possibilities.

Kyle'd already had his 'moment' the day before, in private at damn-near the middle of the night, because then it was cold and crisp and most importantly, he was the only one out there. Some things were just better done alone. If he hadn't seen Nate close the book - and if he hadn't known for sure that if Nate wanted total privacy, he'd have said - or said by way of telepathy, he would have turned around the second he realized someone else was out there. Making sure things stayed weed-free around the memorial stone could wait an hour or three.

Nonetheless, he made sure that as he approached, he was less-than-silent, and that there was no risk of accidentally sneaking up on Nate while he was doing something meditative or telepathic or whatever other psi things that Kyle didn't understand.

"Did you bring the flowers?" Nathan asked, then shook his head, as if answering his question. "No... I bet that was Ororo. They look like they came from the greenhouse." He looked up at Kyle from his crosslegged position. "We're almost to the five year mark. Then we'll blink and it'll have been ten. I really feel old."

"Dude, I don't do flowers." Which was mostly because he just felt ridiculous with them unless they were for a girl, or his grandmom or something. "I'm trying not to think about how I've been here almost five years. There are like, entire people who weren't born yet when I got here." Kyle flashed a grin, obviously thinking of Ray. "Five more years feels like a million to me right now. I mean, I could be done with college in five years. That's -crazy talk-." He sat down with some care and dug his toes into the grass. "I was gonna, uh, ask how you're doing, but you know, that shiner's sort of distracting me..."

Nathan, rather perversely, decided to be forthright. "I looked John up last night. Things got a little... well, he's a bastard and he threw the first punch." Nathan mustered up a smile that was almost cheerful. "He's going to be limping for the next week or so, though."

Kyle wasn't sure if he wanted to cheer or cover his face and groan more. On one hand, he dearly wanted someone to throw John Lense under a bus. On the other, he didn't want the guy to have any more reasons to bother them. "Like, you kicked him in the junk hard limping, or like, he twisted his ankle limping?" Obviously he was hoping for the former, and it certainly showed in his expression and the recurring mental image of Nate using his big psi-bird construct to kick Lense where it counted.

"Mm. More like kicked him in the knee. He was being stubborn." Nathan shook his head slowly, staring down at the lake. "I was trying to talk to him," he said finally, his voice heavy. "Didn't really get anywhere."

"Not to totally pun here, because puns aren't funny, but dude, Lense is like, super-dense where talking to him like a person is concerned." Kyle's opinion of John Lense hadn't started positive, and was only getting worse by the year. "Not that I wanna go picking fights with the guy but I'm pretty sure talking's not gonna help."

"You never know," Nathan said, not quite defensively. "Most of his stupid behavior - well, it's driven by feeling alone. Not all of us sailed through the transition back to a normal life, did we?"

"Dude." Despite it being one word, Kyle's meaning of "You have got to be kidding me." was fairly clear. "Maybe a year ago before he was all 'I'm gonna kill you!" and all "go be Sebastian Shaw's flunky", but I mean, guy's sort of made his own bed here. If somebody could get through to him, I mean, I just don't think he's gonna listen to you, or me, or anybody who had anything to do with Mistra, because the guy has a bug up his -ass- about Mistra."

"Doesn't mean I can give up." Whatever he'd actually said to John last night. "He's me, Kyle - he's me fifteen years ago, without Moira and G.W. to show him how to start moving on." Nathan shook his head, not quite despairingly. "We don't just help the people we like, or who like us. World that hates us and fears us, remember? I can't write him off as a lost cause. And I have to get through to him about Taygetos, if nothing else. Somehow, I have to."

Kyle understood right at the moment why Angelo's trainee name had been Sancho. In his opinion, Nate was tilting at windmills. He was all for helping people, but there were some people that were just beyond it, and Lense was close to the top of that list. "I dunno, I get trying to make him see sense on the Taygetos thing, but I just don't think the guy wants help, and I know if I didn't want help and people kept trying to give it to me, I'd be way more pissed at them then if they just left me alone."

Nathan snorted. "I don't think it's actually possible for him to be any more pissed at me," he said, and gave a helpless shrug. "Apparently the next time we meet, one of us is going to the hospital and the other is going to the morgue." He rolled his eyes - just a little. "Three guesses as to who he casts in which role, and the first two don't count. Although I suppose I should be flattered that he doesn't think he's going to walk away without a scratch."

"I like the one where he's in casts and jail, and you're relaxing in a hammock with a burger and no stitches, concussions or any busted parts." Kyle had noticed it wasn't an option, and felt it was very important to correct that. "I could settle for him in jail and you having stitches or, like a broken toe or something." This was really one of those times he wished Cain hadn't left.

"I like that one too," Nathan said with a sigh. He flipped open the notebook again, eyed what he'd just written, then closed it once more, looking very weary and every year of his age. "I wish all the people who want me dead or as a plaything would go away," he muttered, almost under his breath. "It would be really... nice if my life was a little quieter."

"Wishes, horses, lots of horse poop." Kyle quipped lightly. He'd heard every word of what Nate was muttering. "Which I think is supposed to mean like, that all wishing gets you is up to your neck in horseshit, but I'm not sure. My dad's kinda strange sometimes when he's trying to make a point. I think if you wanted quiet, maybe this, uh, isn't the place for it? I mean, dude, we're chaos central practically, even without Jennie or Wanda."

Nathan smiled faintly. "Ignore me," he said, "I'm just tired." He got slowly to his feet, biting back the groan as several joints protested with popping sounds. "Fuck, I hate being old. I should go find a rocking chair and bitch about all the kids on the lawn or something."

Kyle snickered. "Oh, and our devil rock and roll and, uh, something about uphill in the snow both ways and all you had for lunch was half a brick?" How many jokes of that nature had he heard, or read on some 'internet news forum', he wasn't sure. A lot, certainly. "There's rocking chairs in storage if you want one. They're pretty sturdy." He considered them, decided maybe it was a good idea to drag a few out and down to the sunroom, given how many people were cranky lately, and hoped he'd remember later to actually do it. "Ray probably wouldn't rock hard enough to tip it over more than once."

"Believe it or not," Nathan admitted, "I have one. I think it was supposed to be a gag gift, sort of. Except it's seeming like less and less of a gag all the time."