Log: Jean and Garrison, Saturday Evening (Backdated)

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean stops by the Danger Room to review some training logs and runs into Garrison Kane, who has been working on a "present" he received from Scott.



It was always cold in the Danger Room control room. One theory was that it was to keep the operators awake and sharp while running the longer tests or coding in the new scenarios. Garrison Kane's personal opinion was that Summers set it up this way because the cold didn't bother him, and he had a sadistic streak in him. Either way, it left him in a chilly room for long hours, attempting to code the new results from the week's test into the algorithms and see how to modify the scenarios to reflect them. The door slid open behind him, and he leaned back in his chair and shot a look over his shoulder.

"Hey Doc. What brings you to the Secret Lair?"

Jean had been up late again. She was still having a problem with sleeping and usually wound up spending a couple of hours on some nights wearing herself out in the Danger Room. Once the adrenaline wore off she usually wound up dropping like a log. But she still always managed to wake up before dawn. Internal alarm clock, perhaps. Still, it didn't mean she stayed awake. Thank God. Sleeping in until about 10 am a couple of times a week kept the dark bags from forming under her eyes.

She looked up at a familiar voice as she entered, a wider smile appearing on her lips. "Concocting plans of world domination and needing a place to work in private. However your presence has me at a disadvantage. You may have to be dealt with," she said with a reluctant sigh before her laugh echoed softly through the room.

"Well, just let me get this report done before you disappear my corpse into the lake."

"Actually, I just wanted to check some performance stats on the DR logs," she said, nodding toward the observation window.

"How are you?"

"I am busy, thanks to the miserable SOB that is your husband." Garrison indicated the control console with a wave of his hand. "Ten new training modules for the DR, with scaling difficulties and modular scenarios for solo, duo and team settings. All of which need to be loaded, checked over and then applied to the training roster. In short, he just killed my free weekend and needs a new hobby."

Jean grinned, folding her arms as she leaned against the wall beside the doors. "Miserable SOB? Oh, he'd be flattered," she mused.

"It's his idea of a care package. Normal people send cookies, Scott sends battle scenarios. It's all out of love," she said, smirking.

"Well, now I'm all out of love. Possibly so lost without you." Garrison hit a couple of keys, as the monitor refreshed with a truly impressive to-do list still remaining. "I'd even go as far as to say that I know you were right believing for so long, Doc."

"Believing for so long in what?" Jean said, walking toward the control console and leaning in to inspect the to-do list. She let out a low whistle.

"Well. You poor boy. Your weekend really is screwed."

"Like Jerry Lewis, my humour is sadly misunderstood by Americans." Kane kicked the chair back,slouching into the back rest. "And yes, yes I really am. I swear, I'd charge overtime for this. If I got paid for it. Which I don't. Do you want to pay me for doing it?"

Pausing, Jean rubbed her forehead and let out a groan. "Yeah...I'm going to blame my brief flicker of cluelessness on the insomnia. Lack of sleep messes with the brain," she said with a laugh.

She then shrugged. "I can pay you in beer and flattery but other than that....I'm afraid you're on your own. It's the Professor that ultimately controls the payment for services rendered. Being an X-Men means sometimes getting the short end of the stick," she said, then pulled up a chair.

"I can help you out though if you need it. The methods to Scott's madness are easy to decipher once you get the hang of it."

"Flattery? I'm completely susceptible to flattery." Kane smiled widely, white against the darkness of his beard. The Canadian had a habit of turning things into a joke, and rarely shutting up when under stress. "If you want to dive in, I'm not going to argue. It's not that it's complex. Just a lot of steps to interface with the system. That and Paige begged off because some experiment of hers is in process and she has to be down there to monitor it. My theory is she's actually eating pork rinds and diet soda, watching college football and giving me the finger. Word to the wise, Doctor Grey-Summers-Hyphen-Hyphen; never tell a girl from Kentucky that KSU is just a weak version of the CFL. Hell hath no fury..."

Jean arched a brow, then shook her head, grinning. "You told Paige that? Sometimes I wonder if you're a masochist," she said, then got in a little closer to look at the monitor.

"I'll take the bottom five training modules, you take the top. That way we won't be stepping all over each other's feet," she said, getting behind the keyboard of one of the stations. The sound of quick clicks and clatters started up as she began to cycle through Scott's work. He really had been rather busy. She wondered if he started working them up in San Francisco while he and the other WCA team members were supposed to be on vacation.

She wouldn't have been too surprised.

"I like to live dangerously." He agreed, shifting over to give her access to the workstation. Fortunately, the command console of the Danger Room was big, and had plenty of terminals available. He wasn't about to turn down free help when it appeared.

"Right," Jean said with a smirk. The smile faded to a look of concentration as her fingers flew over the keys as she typed, eyes flickering back and forth across the screen.

"Once we're done I'm going to hit the DR if you don't mind," she said. That was the plan initially before she'd taken pity on him.

"There's a Mystique simulation with my name on it." Jean had been doing some melee training with Scott and the others at the WCA, trying to refine her skills a bit better should her TK and telepathy not be able to be utilized.

"If it's the one with your name written on the top in Sharpie - and misspelled - I'd leave it alone. That's Logan's, and while it does have you and Mystique in it... well-"

Jean lifted her chin thoughtfully, squinting a little. "Hmmm. On my list of disturbing things, that's suddenly risen pretty far up there. Impressive," she said, chuckling. She'd rather things be implied than be hit with literal, vivid, mental pictures.

While Jean could be rather diligent, after a couple of minutes of silence she shook her head and leaned back, stretching. "Well, this is boring."

"See, they never believe me at first." Kane tapped the 'save' function. "I have a plan. I say we blow this off for wings at Harry's, and make a fresh start tomorrow."

"He's still making the lava flavored wings?" Jean said with a grin. She then nodded.

"I like this plan. I've been having a craving for one of his habanero burgers, though, so I think I'll let you burn yourself on the wings on your own," she said.

The drunker you were, the less able you were to taste the capsaicin on your taste buds, or at least that was what Harry's theory seemed to be.

"Deal." Kane tapped the keys a few more times. "Let me just delete this angry email to the WCA and we can go."