xp_logs | Nathan and Jean-Paul, late Sunday evening

Before turning in for the night, Nathan messages Amanda, calls Moira, and then remembers that someone else might have been watching the evening news.

Debriefings were done, all of the injured were settled, and now there was really nothing left to do except try and get some a few hours of sleep dawn. There were likely going to be more debriefings come morning. Nathan sighed, sinking back on the bed and reflecting that the Hungarian medics really did do pain medication very, very well. He'd come out of this not too badly, though, he reminded himself. Some cuts and bruises and muscle strains were nothing in comparison to some of the mission mementos he'd had. Hell, he wasn't even concussed, despite two blows to the head, even with one having knocked him out.

Yes, but you're taking home a bunch of other concussed, brain-broken people. A somewhat loopy laugh escaped Nathan, and he picked up the cell phone sitting on the bedside table. After sending a text message to Amanda, he called Moira, reassuring her that he was all right and that they'd be flying home tomorrow. After answering several more questions about the state everyone else was in, and promising to call again before they flew out, he told her he loved her, hung up, and then pondered the phone for a moment. He'd figured Moira would still be up on Muir until she heard from him, but it was still fairly early in Westchester... oh, what the hell. He called up the relevant number, pondering the likely reaction.

The phone got perhaps a quarter of a ring out before it was picked up.

"Nathan." Jean-Paul's tone painted him as Not Amused and various shades of Concerned with a touch of Has Probably Been Pacing the Room. "Evening news. Budapest. Explosions. Cell phone footage of a fire-bird diving out of a helicopter and strafing a building. Explain."

Nathan opened his mouth and then closed it as well. "Damned cell phones," he mumbled. "Ah, well. Not as bad as most of the population of Wakanda seeing it in a mass shared hallucination... I'll have you know there were many bad people in that building and dropping the roof on them was a sound tactical maneuver. Scott didn't even swear at me on the phone earlier when I told him. Much."

"Well, so long as they were all bad people." A joke. Probably. "What are the casualties on our side? I would have called sooner..." Likely five seconds after he saw what was going on. "...but I thought I stood a good chance of interrupting something important."

"Uh... various burns, broken bones, broken brains - none of which is mine, thank you very much - minor gunshot wounds - also, not mine - and so forth." Nathan made a face. "Too many of the local cops," he muttered. He was going to be seeing some of them in his dreams tonight. We should have been able to do better. Take the worst of it more than we did. Not that any of the highly professional officers who'd gone into the field with them would have liked the idea of being protected, and yet...

"Damn." Jean-Paul went quiet for a bit. "That does not get any easier. Regular people being broken for stepping into a situation with us."

"It doesn't make it any better, but they've got... dozens of people in custody. I can't imagine there's much left of the European Preservers after this." Nathan paused. "And Trask was here."

"'Was' as in formerly there or 'was' as in formerly alive?" Jean-Paul's tone was dead level. "Neither one is good, but I know which one will help me sleep easier."

"Was here. Got away." Nathan stared up at the clean white ceiling of the room. "As per usual. I'm tired, you know. Stupid crazy woman keeps always having a way out..." He was not being particularly coherent, but he thought he was due.

"At least you've taken her off at the knees. She has to run out of places to hide and people to lead eventually."

Nathan raised his hand, peering at it as he moved his fingers. They seemed to leave paths in the air. "Very nice pain pills," he commented. "I may steal some and bring them home with me."

Jean-Paul sighed. "So...burns and broken bones, is it? Infuriating man. So this means I will have to make sure that you eat, but do not get into anything stronger than beer."

Nathan scoffed. "I have nothing broken, mother hen. The you-like person that hit me did it while I was wearing that extremely osh-ostentatious exoskeleton of mine. Sure, I hit the ground, but they bounced. Hard." He sounded almost gleeful.

"I am making certain. You only ruled out half of the list." Jean-Paul sighed. "We need to do more powers training together. I may not wear the leathers anymore, but it doesn't hurt to stave off the rust."

"And you will fit that into your crowded schedule where?" Nathan drawled. "Frankly I'm just delighted to be the one not coming home bleeding from the ears this time. Yay me. And I laughed at all of them. Just a little. See how they like it."

There was a tiny chuff of laughter on the other end of the line. "You have reverted to a twelve-year-old. Those must be very good pills. And summer is coming up. I will find time."

"Can think of better things to do with your time than splatting yourself like a bug on a telekinetic windshield. Rock-climbing! Definitely, we need to do that..." Nathan nearly cracked his jaw with a yawn. "Ugh. You'd think I'd spent the day fighting mutant supremacists or something."

"We can discuss it when you are rested and not doped to the hairline." The voice on the other end of the line gentled somewhat. "When are you due back in?"

"Tomorrow sometime. Depends on how many people want to talk to us tomorrow morning. I think most people will probably sleep most of the way home. I could handle a quiet flight." Nathan yawned again. "Anynow. Late here. Just thought I'd call, since I know you stew..." There was something very fond in his tone.

"People worrying when you go hopping out of aircraft. Imagine that. But I am glad you did. The jump and the call," he clarified. "And I promise to trade you and Jean dinner for all the messy details when you get back."