Log: Artie and Haller, Friday afternoon
Mar. 4th, 2011 02:38 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsJim is required to come and collect Artie from his other school after a rather unpleasant call from one of the staff members there.
Jim held the door for the boy as they exited the building, the red-shingled roof of the Manhattan School for the Deaf warm and inviting in the sunlight. This wasn't the sort of call he got often, particularly not about this student, but it wasn't especially surprising. Based on his own experiences, he was more surprised it didn't happen more often.
"Want to get lunch before we head back?" Jim asked as he let the door swing closed.
Artie shrugged and nodded. Why not? he thought at Haller. I know a good Mexican place kind of nearby. Otherwise, there's this diner on the way home that does good pie. There was still a simmering undercurrent of anger to his thoughts.
"I could go for pie," Jim replied. It wasn't strictly necessary to voice the words, but he preferred to keep the link light and there was nothing wrong with Artie's ears. He couldn't imagine how often the boy had to endure well-meaning but clueless people's interpretation that "uses sign language" meant "speak to him loudly and slowly".
"So, what happened?" the telepath asked as Artie took the lead towards the diner.
Artie gave another shrug. Look, he started it, okay? Jose has this thing about how, you know, mutant freaks shouldn't be at his school, no matter what kind of problems they might have with little things like talking. Anyway, I mostly just ignore him but we were on break and he starts following me around, going on about how he thinks that maybe they should cut my tongue or something out so I'm less of a freak in public. So, uh, I kind of pointed out that he should maybe spend less time sucking his daddy off and screwing his little sister and image accompanied this, of a girl who was about four, and then he just tried to hit me!
Jim suddenly found himself unable to decide between horrified choke and burst of laughter. There were some situations when having multiple personalities could be extremely distracting.
"Okay, I can see how that may have escalated," he said, inwardly marveling at his lack of outward response. "So, you only used the throw on him? Didn't try to hit him back, I mean."
I didn't hit him. I just threw him, and okay, he hit a bench when he landed. And then I told him that if he ever tried to hit me again, that I'd cut all his fingers off, one by one. He opened the door to the diner and headed toward a booth. That might have been kind of overkill but he tried to hit me!
"Just two, please," Jim said to a passing waitress, who nodded and left to find them menus. He slid into a booth across from Artie with a faint shake of his head.
"Ms. Tiegh said she was speaking to Jose's parents as well, so he'll be handled," said the telepath. "But if he starts harassing you again, please try to find a teacher before it gets to a physical throw-down. I'm going to have to do an incident report as it is. Also, threats about maiming tend to get misconstrued, even if the other guy started it." He quirked the corner of his mouth, then added, "Off the record, thank you for keeping your actions to redirection rather than retaliation. I know you could've done much worse, and so does Professor Xavier. The school won't, though."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the waitress. She was young and plain, but addressed them cheerfully enough.
"Here you go," she said, handing them their menus and placing two sets of napkin-wrapped cutlery on the edge of the table. "Can I start you off with anything to drink?"
"Water, please," said Jim, and glanced at Artie.
Artie flipped his menu over and tapped at an orange juice in the drinks section.
"Does he want an orange juice, then?" she asked Jim.
Jim hesitated, then remembered the waitress had only seen Artie sign as they entered while he carried the verbal portion of the conversation.
"You can ask him," the telepath said, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. "He can hear, he just doesn't speak."
Artie sighed, having had this conversation far too many times before. He pulled his notebook out of his pocket and tapped the orange juice again, before writing OJ x 1. Cheeseburger. Fries. on it and holding it up so that the waitress could see.
"Oh, uh . . ." The woman looked from the notepad to Jim and back again. The telepath studied the menu and offered her absolutely no support.
Finally the waitress' brain seemed to reorder itself around the inevitable. "Um, okay, cheeseburger, friends, orange juice," she said, hastily scribbling this down on her pad. "Um . . . sir, do you need a few more minutes to decide?"
"Burger, well-done. And fries please." Jim flicked the menu closed and only then looked up at her. He stacked his menu against Artie's and handed it to her. "Thank you."
The waitress, still discombobulated, fumbled the menus a little before excusing herself with an "I'll have this out to you soon".
Jim pinched the bridge of her nose once she was gone. "I hope the regular staff are a little more together."
They're not usually this bad. I haven't seen her here before. I guess she might be new? I'd think she's terminally stupid but, you know, I have this conversation like, three times a week, Artie said, stuffing the notepad back into his pocket. About before. I've tried going to the teachers and, look, half of them don't care. They kind of agree with him. I mean, it's not like I'm a big scary mutant that might laser them in the face if they said something. I'm just the kid with the messed up mouth.
He nodded to the waitress as she came back with their drinks and took a sip of juice, sighing slightly. I promise I won't ever punch him first or anything like that, okay? No matter how much of a dickwad he is.
"Thanks for that. And I will make sure the professor knows there was an element of self-defense involved." Jim exhaled and leaned back in the booth. "Is anyone else giving you grief about being a mutant, or is the hearing situation still the bigger issue?"
There's a couple but, mostly it's that I shouldn't be there because of the hearing thing. I mean, I could probably get by using speech synthesizers and all the stuff I do now, with the notes and the images and things but I'm not going to be fluent enough speaking the right language for college and things if I don't go there. More people understand the other stuff but... Artie trailed off.
"It's not the same," finished Jim. "I understand. Sign's your first language. I know people living abroad have that problem too. Sometimes you just need to be around it." He nodded at Artie's hands. "And to speak naturally, without props."
And without it either taking forever or the other guy being too freaking dense to understand what I'm saying or whatever. Artie finished his juice and shrugged. Or without having to constantly manage what I say to make sure that they get it.
"Or having people speak to you very slowly despite the fact that your ears are fine and between sign, spoken, written, and images you're the one pulling from up to four different modes of communication at any one time." Jim took a drink of water, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, that was unprofessional. Try not to take that one with you. I just wish we had a better solution to offer -- it's enough being part of one 'special needs group' without crossover into another."
The waitress arrived with their orders. To her credit, she managed to correct herself and look to Artie when she asked if he needed a refill.
Artie shook his head at the waitress in reply and began cutting his cheeseburger into bitesized pieces, gulping each down without chewing. People are dicks. You know, I get that, I really do.
"I know. I just wish the universe didn't constantly remind us of the fact." Jim sighed and took a bite of his burger. Despite his concerns about the waitress, the patty was not unexpectedly fish or veggie in origin. "When we get back I'll have to give you the 'Don't threaten bodily harm' speech," he said after he'd swallowed. "And the one about being held to a higher standard just because of what you are. Probably some kind of probation for the use of force, too. But we'll also do everything we can to support you in whatever direction you want to go with sign, college, or anything else. Just keep a dialogue open, okay? We'll figure it out."
Probation? Aww, come on, Mr Haller. You know I totally didn't mean that about cutting his fingers off. That's not fair! Artie said, as he gulped down a handful of fries.
Jim gave him a one-shouldered shrug as he took another sip of water. "Actions have consequences, even understandable ones. Though since you've already got a three-day suspension I don't think they'll be severe."
Artie sighed. I won't do it again, okay?
The telepath gave him a crooked smile. "In deference to real life I won't hold you to that," Jim said, "but you get points for making the effort."
Fifteen minutes later, the waitress asked Jim if Artie wanted anything for dessert.
Jim held the door for the boy as they exited the building, the red-shingled roof of the Manhattan School for the Deaf warm and inviting in the sunlight. This wasn't the sort of call he got often, particularly not about this student, but it wasn't especially surprising. Based on his own experiences, he was more surprised it didn't happen more often.
"Want to get lunch before we head back?" Jim asked as he let the door swing closed.
Artie shrugged and nodded. Why not? he thought at Haller. I know a good Mexican place kind of nearby. Otherwise, there's this diner on the way home that does good pie. There was still a simmering undercurrent of anger to his thoughts.
"I could go for pie," Jim replied. It wasn't strictly necessary to voice the words, but he preferred to keep the link light and there was nothing wrong with Artie's ears. He couldn't imagine how often the boy had to endure well-meaning but clueless people's interpretation that "uses sign language" meant "speak to him loudly and slowly".
"So, what happened?" the telepath asked as Artie took the lead towards the diner.
Artie gave another shrug. Look, he started it, okay? Jose has this thing about how, you know, mutant freaks shouldn't be at his school, no matter what kind of problems they might have with little things like talking. Anyway, I mostly just ignore him but we were on break and he starts following me around, going on about how he thinks that maybe they should cut my tongue or something out so I'm less of a freak in public. So, uh, I kind of pointed out that he should maybe spend less time sucking his daddy off and screwing his little sister and image accompanied this, of a girl who was about four, and then he just tried to hit me!
Jim suddenly found himself unable to decide between horrified choke and burst of laughter. There were some situations when having multiple personalities could be extremely distracting.
"Okay, I can see how that may have escalated," he said, inwardly marveling at his lack of outward response. "So, you only used the throw on him? Didn't try to hit him back, I mean."
I didn't hit him. I just threw him, and okay, he hit a bench when he landed. And then I told him that if he ever tried to hit me again, that I'd cut all his fingers off, one by one. He opened the door to the diner and headed toward a booth. That might have been kind of overkill but he tried to hit me!
"Just two, please," Jim said to a passing waitress, who nodded and left to find them menus. He slid into a booth across from Artie with a faint shake of his head.
"Ms. Tiegh said she was speaking to Jose's parents as well, so he'll be handled," said the telepath. "But if he starts harassing you again, please try to find a teacher before it gets to a physical throw-down. I'm going to have to do an incident report as it is. Also, threats about maiming tend to get misconstrued, even if the other guy started it." He quirked the corner of his mouth, then added, "Off the record, thank you for keeping your actions to redirection rather than retaliation. I know you could've done much worse, and so does Professor Xavier. The school won't, though."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the waitress. She was young and plain, but addressed them cheerfully enough.
"Here you go," she said, handing them their menus and placing two sets of napkin-wrapped cutlery on the edge of the table. "Can I start you off with anything to drink?"
"Water, please," said Jim, and glanced at Artie.
Artie flipped his menu over and tapped at an orange juice in the drinks section.
"Does he want an orange juice, then?" she asked Jim.
Jim hesitated, then remembered the waitress had only seen Artie sign as they entered while he carried the verbal portion of the conversation.
"You can ask him," the telepath said, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. "He can hear, he just doesn't speak."
Artie sighed, having had this conversation far too many times before. He pulled his notebook out of his pocket and tapped the orange juice again, before writing OJ x 1. Cheeseburger. Fries. on it and holding it up so that the waitress could see.
"Oh, uh . . ." The woman looked from the notepad to Jim and back again. The telepath studied the menu and offered her absolutely no support.
Finally the waitress' brain seemed to reorder itself around the inevitable. "Um, okay, cheeseburger, friends, orange juice," she said, hastily scribbling this down on her pad. "Um . . . sir, do you need a few more minutes to decide?"
"Burger, well-done. And fries please." Jim flicked the menu closed and only then looked up at her. He stacked his menu against Artie's and handed it to her. "Thank you."
The waitress, still discombobulated, fumbled the menus a little before excusing herself with an "I'll have this out to you soon".
Jim pinched the bridge of her nose once she was gone. "I hope the regular staff are a little more together."
They're not usually this bad. I haven't seen her here before. I guess she might be new? I'd think she's terminally stupid but, you know, I have this conversation like, three times a week, Artie said, stuffing the notepad back into his pocket. About before. I've tried going to the teachers and, look, half of them don't care. They kind of agree with him. I mean, it's not like I'm a big scary mutant that might laser them in the face if they said something. I'm just the kid with the messed up mouth.
He nodded to the waitress as she came back with their drinks and took a sip of juice, sighing slightly. I promise I won't ever punch him first or anything like that, okay? No matter how much of a dickwad he is.
"Thanks for that. And I will make sure the professor knows there was an element of self-defense involved." Jim exhaled and leaned back in the booth. "Is anyone else giving you grief about being a mutant, or is the hearing situation still the bigger issue?"
There's a couple but, mostly it's that I shouldn't be there because of the hearing thing. I mean, I could probably get by using speech synthesizers and all the stuff I do now, with the notes and the images and things but I'm not going to be fluent enough speaking the right language for college and things if I don't go there. More people understand the other stuff but... Artie trailed off.
"It's not the same," finished Jim. "I understand. Sign's your first language. I know people living abroad have that problem too. Sometimes you just need to be around it." He nodded at Artie's hands. "And to speak naturally, without props."
And without it either taking forever or the other guy being too freaking dense to understand what I'm saying or whatever. Artie finished his juice and shrugged. Or without having to constantly manage what I say to make sure that they get it.
"Or having people speak to you very slowly despite the fact that your ears are fine and between sign, spoken, written, and images you're the one pulling from up to four different modes of communication at any one time." Jim took a drink of water, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, that was unprofessional. Try not to take that one with you. I just wish we had a better solution to offer -- it's enough being part of one 'special needs group' without crossover into another."
The waitress arrived with their orders. To her credit, she managed to correct herself and look to Artie when she asked if he needed a refill.
Artie shook his head at the waitress in reply and began cutting his cheeseburger into bitesized pieces, gulping each down without chewing. People are dicks. You know, I get that, I really do.
"I know. I just wish the universe didn't constantly remind us of the fact." Jim sighed and took a bite of his burger. Despite his concerns about the waitress, the patty was not unexpectedly fish or veggie in origin. "When we get back I'll have to give you the 'Don't threaten bodily harm' speech," he said after he'd swallowed. "And the one about being held to a higher standard just because of what you are. Probably some kind of probation for the use of force, too. But we'll also do everything we can to support you in whatever direction you want to go with sign, college, or anything else. Just keep a dialogue open, okay? We'll figure it out."
Probation? Aww, come on, Mr Haller. You know I totally didn't mean that about cutting his fingers off. That's not fair! Artie said, as he gulped down a handful of fries.
Jim gave him a one-shouldered shrug as he took another sip of water. "Actions have consequences, even understandable ones. Though since you've already got a three-day suspension I don't think they'll be severe."
Artie sighed. I won't do it again, okay?
The telepath gave him a crooked smile. "In deference to real life I won't hold you to that," Jim said, "but you get points for making the effort."
Fifteen minutes later, the waitress asked Jim if Artie wanted anything for dessert.
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Date: 2011-03-08 05:45 pm (UTC)