xp_logs | Log: Nathan and Monet, Friday

OOC: Backdated because LJ was down every time I tried to post this

"I was beginning to think you were avoiding me," Nathan said to the Australian in the doorway of his infirmary room. "Pretty much everyone else from the office has trooped through at some point or another this week..." He gave her a tired, crooked smile to indicate that it was a joke. It sort of looked like she might need the reassurance.

"Haha. Not quite, but I've been busy." Which was totally a lie. "How are you going?" Monet asked, walking over to the guest chair and
sitting down in it.

"Not so bad." It wasn't quite a lie. Amelia was exhibiting a very free hand with the pills. "How about you?" He managed another of those tired smiles. "You didn't sneak me in any work, did you?"

"Please. Angelo would kill me, literally, if I tried that. He's gone all scary dictator, since you've been out." Monet pulled a set of
jeweller's files and little scraps of emery paper out of her jacket pocket and began to buff her nails. "I'm good. Totally over the whole
freaking out about when I met the kids thing." It was in the mission report. He had to know about it.

Nathan blinked at her. "Over the what?" he asked tentatively, then half-sighed at the look she was giving him. "People have been 'not bothering' me with details. You'd think I'd gotten myself half-killed or something."

Monet nodded miserably. "I hadn't actually had a chance to deal with them before. Stupid telepathy." Maybe that's because you were almost killed, she thought, keeping it to herself.

"You were having trouble keeping their thoughts out?" Nathan hazarded a guess. He wished he hadn't been so out of it. Of all the telepaths in the mansion, Monet had the most in common with himself in his early days, and he'd always felt like he owed her, in terms of a sounding board if nothing else.

"Yeah. I couldn't keep them out at all," she said, focussing on her nails.

Nathan thought about his words carefully before he responded. "You sound like some more shielding practice would be a good idea," he said slowly. "Hard to stay focused on what you're supposed to be doing if something like that's... sideswiping you." Dangerous, too, at least in the field.

"I've been working with Jean, on and off, for ages. But, y'know, it's really not a problem most of the time, because I'm more a projector than a receiver and I already have an off-switch built in for when I receive too much information, anyway."

"You didn't switch off, did you? In Wyoming, I mean," Nathan said, more concerned.

Monet shook her head vigorously. "No, thank god. Nah, I just freaked because I couldn't shut them out. They were so angry..."

"It wasn't them. It was Trask. Well... no," Nathan conceded after a moment, more quietly. "Trask couldn't stir up anything that wasn't
already there. I think they had a right to be angry, though, don't you? Even if we could wish she hadn't... wrenched it out in the open
like that."

"I dunno. Maybe. But I had to hear it, too, Nate."

"They're going to get help," Nathan said hesitantly. "From people who can help them deal with that anger." And everything else.

"As long as I don't ever have to deal with them again. Ever."

"Not much danger of that, I think," Nathan murmured, regarding her with a strange mixture of emotions. "Not fun, to see what people like us can do to innocent minds, is it?"

"Yeah, nah. Jesus fuck, it's scary seeing what I could do to someone's head, if I really wanted to." Monet shrugged and switched her file to her other hand, saying "It's a good thing I'm not strong enough to do what they were doing."

"Takes a special kind of 'person like us'." Nathan actually shuddered, paling visibly as he thought of the telempath. He was still dreaming about her more often than not, and since he was still spending a good portion of his days sleeping...

Monet looked up from her nails and grimaced, picking up on his discomfort. "It was bad? I'm sorry," she said.

"Well, it was part of the set-up," Nathan said, voice unsteady. "We knew they'd go into my head, try to crack into my subconscious to get at the Trojan Horse. The person they had doing it was... creative."

She nodded miserably. It was one thing to know that he'd have known in advance that it was going to be bad, another to see the results of that. The worst thing was that there wasn't anyone else who could have played Nathan's part in it all. "Dude. That really sucks." Monet forced a smile. "Want me to paint your nails? We can take some pictures, send them to Rachel and give her some ideas..."

"No, I don't think so. I wouldn't mind hearing about what's going on at the office, though," Nathan said, almost wistfully. "It's not that I don't trust you all. It's just... I feel kind of useless right now."

"Fair enough. I mean, pretty nails always make me feel better but you've got this whole butch, I are a bloke thing going on that I don't have," she said, smiling. "Um, at the office... We just got the latest lot of reports in from the training place in Morocco. They're still having real trouble placing anyone who can't pass there, but no-one's been threatened with being lynched for employing a mutant again. They're sticking to nasty letters and picketing for now. If you want, I could sneak you out a copy of the centre manager's report?"

Nathan summoned up a mock-adoring look. It probably wasn't entirely convincing. "Bonuses for you. Seriously. All kinds of bonuses. I mean, don't know if I can read for more than a few minutes at a time. But at least I could fall asleep with the paperwork under my pillow..."

"So... sort of like the tooth fairy only this way, you wake up with a new problem under the pillow instead of a $2 coin? By the way, I want my bonus to be paid in chocolate, okay?"