xp_logs | Spontaneous emotion...

Set just after the 'chat' log ends - Doug and Angie talk, and Moira finds them, so she can explain the results of the last month of testing on Marie-Ange's dreams.

Doug sat in one of the window seats in the sunroom, puttering around with his laptop and waiting for Marie-Ange to arrive. He only waited a few minutes, before she arrived, still toting her book bag, and without the ever-present sketchpad. "I am sorry about taking so long. We got our lab assignments for next week at the last minute. More cutting things up, but not mutants this time."

Doug closed his laptop and smiled. "It's okay. I haven't been here long myself. So what's on the cutting agenda next week?"

Marie-Ange glanced around the room for a bit, looking for a chair that did not require shoving over to the window, then gave up, and carefully sat in the window seat, curling her legs underneath her. "Baby sharks. I think she makes these up randomly, sometimes."

"Baby sharks? Huh. That's cool." Doug noticed Marie-Ange's slight nervousness and desire for avoidance, but carefully said nothing.

"Baby sharks, so we can 'explore the facinatin' cartilage structures in the wee beasties.'" Marie-Ange snickered. "I keep telling myself it is better than Chemistry or Math. At least I can understand this class."

"I'm not sure I have the stomach to cut animals up, myself. I'll stick with math and physics and computer science, thanks." Doug smiled.

"The cutting up part isn't that bad, actually. It is a little stinky, but it isn't that gross after the first time." Marie-Ange was definitely still avoiding the subject in the previous conversation.

Doug sighed and decided he was going to have to bite the bullet. "So what aren't you telling me, Angie?" he asked softly.

Marie-Ange let her head fall back to rest against the wall of the recessed seat, and frowned. "It is .. awkward. Hard to explain, I think." The lingering fear that Doug would run off, or that explaining it might bring up old memories made her voice hesitant, and quiet. "I probably should not make jokes about innocence."

Doug reached out and patted Marie-Ange's shoulder softly. "Why's that, Angie? And take all the time you need to explain."

Marie-Ange exhaled slowly. "I'm not. Innocent, that is. It is .. just going to .. " she stopped, and watched Doug closely for a moment. "I don't want to bring up last week, and upset you."

Doug continued to nod supportively. "It's okay, Angie. And why would you worry about upsetting me? Nobody's entirely innocent. Especially around here."

"Because of the potion .. because of what I would have been willing to do.. " She met Doug's eyes, then blinked away. "With you."

Doug cocked his head. "What do you mean, Angie?"

"There is an expression, about horses, that you can't put them back in the barn. You know it, yes?"

Doug nodded. "You mean the one about closing the barn door when the horses have already left?"

"That one, yes." Marie-Ange nodded, slowly.

"What does that have to do with..." Doug blinked. "Angie, what are you trying to tell me?"

"I .. shouldn't .. " Marie-Ange trailed off, burying her head in her knees. "This is just too hard to explain."

Doug put a finger under Marie-Ange's chin and lifted her head up from her knees. "Angie, I promise you whatever it is, and I have an idea, it's not going to change how I think of you." He smiled. "You're one of my best friends, and you took care of me when I wasn't doing such a hot job of it myself."

"It is just not something easy to talk about." Doug's finger was reminding her of things she definitely did not want to keep associating with Doug. Except that, she already had when under the effects of the potion, which was something else she wasn't going to think about.

Marie-Ange was deliberately not thinking about a lot of things lately. It made dealing much easier.

Sensing Marie-Ange's nervousness, Doug drew back. "I promise it'll be okay, Angie. You can tell me, whatever it is. You know I won't judge you, right?"

"I know. That is why it is so hard to talk about." Marie-Ange frowned as Doug moved away. "Because I don't want to scare you, and I know you won't make a judgment. But... " she clenched a fist, frustrated.

Doug moved back toward Marie-Ange, but kept his hands to himself, trying to compromise between her apparent discomfort at his touch and her frowning when he moved away. "Why do you think you'll scare me?"

Marie-Ange raised an eyebrow, still frowning. "Do .. you really want me to answer that?"

Doug smiled gently. "Yes, Angie. We're friends, right? And we trust each other. So, we don't have to have any facades with each other. We can be honest, and know the other one won't judge us. That's what being a friend is about."

Marie-Ange took a deep breath. "There's a reason I wasn't nervous about touching you, or about offering to get Manuel to help if you had wanted it."

Doug nodded. "And why is that?"

"I.. I'm not exactly .." There was a muffled word, after the 'exactly', but it was cut off by Marie-Ange once again burying her face in her knees.

"Angie..." Doug scooted a little closer to Marie-Ange and placed a hand on her back, rubbing soothingly. "Please tell me? You're not exactly what?"

The touch on her back caused Marie-Ange to startle, but only in surprise. She had honestly not expected it. "This is .. just so stupid. I shouldn't be upset about it."

Doug chuckled. "Angie, you're going to have to tell me what it is, if I'm going to convince you not to be so upset about it. Or, if you don't want to, I can back off, promise. I just...worry about you."

Marie-Ange let out a short laugh. "I thought I was supposed to be worried about you, Doug. Why are you worried?"

Doug smiled. "Because you're my friend, and I can tell that something's on your mind, and it's obviously upsetting you. And I want to help."

"I don't know why its upsetting me. I wanted to, I don't regret it. I just .. " Marie-Ange relaxed a little as Doug found a particular tense spot on her back. "I'm just embarrassed, a little."

Doug concentrated on that spot, trying to put Marie-Ange at ease. "Why are you embarrassed if it's something you wanted, and you don't regret it?"

Instead of answering, being distracted by the muscles in her back slowly un-tensing, Marie-Ange made a small noise, and turned to give Doug better access to her back.

Doug pulled Marie-Ange gently so that her head was resting on his shoulder and his hand continued to rub her back gently.

Marie-Ange leaned into Doug's shoulder for a few minutes, then slid over, to sit next to him, leaning the back of her head against his chest. "I don't understand how you can be so decent about things.."

Doug did a half-shrug, careful not to disturb the arm that was around Marie-Ange's shoulders. "Just raised right?"

"This doesn't bother you?" The contact was reassuring. The fact that Doug wasn't running, flinching or otherwise having a wiggins of any particular kind was doubly so, and Marie-Ange wanted to make sure she wasn't going to cause one.

"Why should it? We're friends, and you've been there for me, and beaten into my head that you still trust me and don't blame me." Doug gave Marie-Ange a hug with the arm around her shoulders. "Besides, I can tell that you need the comfort a little bit."

"I just don't want to bring up bad memories for you. This is nice, I don't want to lose it because of something that wasn't either of our faults."

Doug nodded slowly. "It's all right, Angie. No wigging out. Everyone's been working hard at convincing me everything wasn't my fault, and I think I might actually be starting to believe it."

"Good. Because it wasn't your fault, and I won't let you keep thinking it was." Marie-Ange slid backwards a bit, and brushed a kiss across Doug's cheek. "You're too fun to let wallow in misery, and if I did, I'd never get to see those pants again."

Doug blushed lightly, and he blinked confusedly. Was Marie-Ange...? No, she couldn't be. He shrugged it off as Marie-Ange slipped her head back onto his shoulder and they sat there for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet.

Moira paused outside of the entrance to the sunroom, gathering her thoughts and paperwork. She was quite sure that she was looking at what she thought she was looking at, but it was still hard to imagine. Shaking her head, she peeked in. "Marie-Ange?"

At the sound of another voice, one not her own, or Doug's, Marie-Ange jumped, and scrambled for the other side of the seat. She forced back the wave of embarrassment threatening to color her cheeks, and waved at the woman standing in the doorway. "Doctor MacTaggart?"

Hiding a smile...or a smirk, more like...she fully entered the room and waved a stack of papers. "I've got yer results o' the tests, lass." She glanced over at Doug. "Ye want ta talk 'bout them?"

"The tests on the dreams? Yes, please. " Marie-Ange watched Moira's expression carefully, looking any signs of irritation or displeasure at her next question. "Is it all right if Doug stays?"

"If'n yer okay wit' tha'. 'Tis...'ard ta digest an' I know ye'll tell 'im anyway." She glanced down at the pages in her hands and then handed them to Marie-Ange. "Most o' tha's in science-babble..."

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't." Marie-Ange looked at the pile of papers, turned one page upside down, then back right-side up. Then she gave up, and handed the entire pile to Doug. "Help?" She asked, pleadingly.

Doug cocked his head at the papers and frowned. "I speak a bit of science babble, but this is beyond me, I think. Help, doc?"

"When Marie-Ange 'as th' visions, somethin' -does- 'appen in 'er mind. We can kind o' categorize it but it doesna fit exactly, since it is a mutant power. 'ow much do ye two know o' psychotic breaks an' epilepsy?"

Doug raised a hand with his fingers a small amount apart. "About that much?"

Marie-Ange looked at Doug, then shrugged. "Less than what he does."

Moira grinned. "Same as most people who dinnae 'ave ta deal wit' it on a regular basis. Startin' wit' psychotic breaks..." Moira pushed her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels. "People like ta think there are several states o'mind. 'Normal', consistent over time an' situations. 'Disorganized', a little scattered, unfocused or fragmented. 'Disturbed', a state o'mind leadin' t' behavior tha' is socially unacceptable an' potentially harmful ta self an' others. "Disordered", a display o' clinically definable an' diagnosable symptoms that are clustered under one primary head', yer depression, kleptomania, tha' sort o' thin'. 'Dissociated', a collapse of the 'ego integrity' meanin' a state o' mind where th' person is unsure o' who they are, where they are, what they are doin' an' how they should be behavin'. Basically loss o' identity an' self-o-self."

It was a while, while Marie-Ange digested this information, mulling it over in her head. She made a frown of concentration, trying to make sense of what the doctor was saying in relation to her power. After a few minutes of silence, she gave up. "I'm still confused."

Doug cocked his head. "I think I got most of that. Where does Angie's precognition come into that picture?"

"Han' on, tha's only 'alf..." She pointed to the rest of the papers. "Tis like it's mated wit' a complex partial seizure o' epilepsy. Which means impairment o' consciousness, th' restless sleep she gets...she doesna respond ta outside stimuli when she's in th' middle o' a vision dream. She also twitches an' 'as uncontrollable shivers durin' them as well. All leadin' signs o' this type o' epilepsy. Which is why she's so tired afterward... or why it 'urts forcin' them." She looked at Marie-Ange. "'Tis why ye need somethin' ta channel them -through-."

Marie-Ange looked at Doctor MacTaggart, then Doug, and then back to the doctor. "So, you're saying I'm having fits and losing my mind, but not, because its a mutant power?"

"Aye." She scrunched up her nose. "'Tis th' most scientifically puzzlin' thin'. Ye want laymen's terms?"

"If that means in words that don't make me even more confused, yes." Marie-Ange nodded, enthusiastically.

Doug looked that the slightly dazed look on Marie-Ange's face from the technical terms. "I'm thinking that might be best."

"Yer brain turns itself into jell-o. Nay physically, an' I woodland mention around Jamie because 'he’d probably try ta eat yer brain or somethin' but...yer brain turns ta mush in order ta focus an' then channel th' visions ta ye. 'Tis probably th' only way he’d be able ta understand them."

"Jell-O. and mush. So..." Marie-Ange rubbed the bridge of her nose, frowning. "I have no idea what any of that means? I'm going to keep having nightmares?"

Doug patted Marie-Ange's knee tentatively. "I think the doctor is saying that if you channel the precognition, you can avoid the dreams. Right, doc?"

"Ye 'ave options. But I dinnae..." Moira sighed and shook her head. "Because these -are- thing’s tha' are treatable, we could possible hook ye up wit' a pill mix. Upside...no nightmares. Downside...nay visions, we'd cut tha' part o' yer powers off. We also woodland know what' th' affect would be on ye..."

The idea of her powers being turned off was oddly repellant. They were annoying, and scary, but they had to be useable, somehow. "No. Unless you say I have to, I don't want to turn them off. Not if I can use them to prevent something like the attack last month, or even last week from happening."

Moira looked relieved. "I've -never- been in favor o' tha' approach. However...I noticed somethin'...th' nights ye logged drinking' lots o' soda before bed? Yer visions came through stronger an' looked like wit' less...resistance. Ye didn't complain o' as much lack o' sleep as ye usually get."

"Soda makes my powers work better?" That didn't make sense. Not any sense, at all. Marie-Ange blinked in confusion.

"'Tis a stimulant, besides 'vain' th' ability ta make ye pee faster, it changes yer mental state."

Doug wrinkled his nose. "Did we really need the added 'makes ye pee faster' bit?" He did a slightly mocking version of Moira's accent, but smiled to show it was in fun.

"Thank you!" Marie-Ange said, making the "Oh, -ew-" face at the comment.

Laughing, Moira grinned. "Needed ta be said. But I believe stimulants ease th' discomfort somewhat."

"So... if I have a soda, I won't get as bad of a headache if I try to do a reading like I did for Doug?" Marie-Ange looked confused. Mostly because she was, actually, very, very confused.

"Aye, I believe so. Ye drink soda, it affects yer brain chemistry, rerouting' it so ta speak. More specifically, yer serotonin levels increase, allowing' easier access t' yer precognitive abilities."

Doug nodded. "So would something like chocolate ice cream work even better? Boost her serotonin levels more? What with the more sugar and such."

"...probably, aye...th' more th' merrier, really."

Marie-Ange just blinked, not any less confused than she had been a few minutes before. "So, soda, or sugary foods, or anything that changes.. my brain can change how that precognition power works?"

"-Slightly-. But 'tis a strong' believe tha' yer body will get used ta this. Mutants 'ave ta adapt ta their powers...yer jus' starting' out wit' yer second one. So I believe wit' time an' possible some outside 'ell, ye can get some o' this under control."

So I can sleep more, or so I can figure out how it works so I can use it?" The implications of 'control' were just starting to sink in, and Marie-Ange made a mental note to find out what else changed chemicals in the brain, though she had half an idea already what to start with.

"Aye, pretty much."

"Both? So I can sleep more AND use it?" Marie-Ange's expression perked. "Not just one, or the other?"

Moira nodded. "Over time, wit' practice, aye, I strongly believe ye could."

Marie-Ange grinned, and held up a hand. "Could.. we have a second?" Before Moira could answer, she hopped up, practically pulling Doug along with her, and half-dragged him into a bizarre conga-tango-combination-celebratory-dance.

Moira watched with incredible amusement at the sudden enthusiastic dancing. At least Doug was feeling slightly better...and they could -kind- of dance...