Sam & Vanessa | Sunday Morning

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Sam happens upon Vanessa working out some anger on a heavy bag. Luckily for him it never turns around to refocus on him and instead Vanessa seems keen to just ignore that whole part of their history where she wasn't talking to him.

The advantage of Laura's mutation was that Vanessa didn't tire very easily. She had been beating the hell out of the heavy bag in the gym for going on an hour and while she had worked up a sweat she had no real notion of slowing down.

Jab, jab, cross, bob shift.
Jab, jab, cross, bob, shift.
Jab, jab, cross, hook, bob, shift.

She was dancing around the bag quicker than she could when in her own body and it was bliss. If she was hitting something then she could concentrate on something specific. If she was hitting something that meant she had a target. Something to hurt. It was sheer luck she hadn't brought out the claws on accident and stabbed the damn thing. It was good to have something to fight. To feel strong again and not like the broken doll she imagined most people were viewing her as.

Jab, jab, cross, bob, shift.

Something in the pocket of her shorts bobbed along as she moved. Something small and suspiciously fuzzy.

Sam had headed down into the gym for some exercise of his own, though he wasn't planning anything like beating up on a punching bag. With the colder weather settling in he'd preferred to take advantage of the treadmills and such inside rather than go outside in the chilly air. That was how you caught a cold, after all, his mama always told him.

Someone else was really enjoying the idea of pounding the crap out of something, however, as his ears first told him on entering the gym, followed shortly by his eyes as he saw who it was. At first glance it was Laura punching away at the bag relentlessly, though studying the woman delivering the beating Sam realized it wasn't her. The moves were too familiar, too good as a boxer, and if there was one thing Sam had been good at as a co-leader of the X-Men it was recognizing his teammates. No, that wasn't all... and then he remembered. Vanessa had been wearing Laura to heal up. The fuzzy item bouncing in her pocket clinched it.

Taking a deep breath, Sam figured it was just as well to go and talk to her. Not that he didn't want to, far from it, he just didn't want to upset her. And she was hitting things, so he'd better hang back a little bit, just in case. At least no one else was around to see him get a smackdown should that happen, he reckoned. He cleared his throat and took a step or two in her general direction.

"Hey there, up and about I see?"

Vanessa had caught the scent of someone familiar but had been unable to place it. It scratched at her attention more than other passing scents had but she had chosen to ignore it in favor of bobbing and hitting the bag with another hook. Until she heard the voice. That's what smells familiar...Sam. Saying they hadn't been on great terms last she saw him was an understatement. They had essentially been on no terms at all. Vanessa slid out of the way of the bag's return swing and caught it in her bare hands to still its movement.

Laura's eyes peered at the Southerner from the other side of the heavy bag, their gaze considering. A small part of her memory still registered his scent as something soothing, as some warm, safe place. Vanessa, of course, shoved that down and ignored it. That was Morgan's place to hide, not hers. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder to the entrance to the gym, then swept the room quickly before landing back on the man in front of her. "Yeah. Suppose I am, what with beating the living hell out of the bag. Though I'd like to convince someone to let me do that while wheelchair or bed-prone one day. Think I'll pull that off?"

He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel somewhat relieved that she'd stopped throwing punches, for the moment at least. And then she actually spoke to him, so that was better again. "Yeah, you did a number on that thing, heh." Those things were as heavy as heck yet she'd been dancing around it effortlessly and had it swinging all over the place like it was nothing. "If anyone could do it, you could, yeah." It was definitely true, she was a fighter alright.

Sam glanced down to the fuzzy item in her pocket, nodding downwards to it. "I guess you like the lil' guy, huh?" He grinned, it was a cute plush stuffed snake and he knew it was right up Vanessa's alley, so he was glad to see she had it on her.

Vanessa looked down at the little fuzzy snake and pulled him out of her pocket. She held it up so the snake was looking at her, then turned him around so he was looking at Sam. "Jalapeño's learning to float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. I figured he needed more than 'stand up and bite people' as a defense. He's really more of a lover than a fighter but it's best to be prepared." Or maybe that's just how she thought of the person who gave him to her. She looked over Sam and he seemed...Sam-like. Normal. Not prone to raging outside one's building in the middle of the night shouting at one's colleagues. Then again, he hadn't ever had the crazy look about him in the first place anyway. "Thanks, though. Didn't figure you on remembering my birthday. People usually don't."

Jalapeño was the perfect name for the little snake, or so Sam thought at least. "It's true, be prepared, it's not just the Scout's motto for nothin'." He held up his three fingers, holding his pinky down with his thumb, palm facing Vanessa, the good old Scout salute. Of course Sam was a boy scout. He put his hands in his pockets then, not exactly sure what to say next. So instead he just shrugged while he carefully chose his words. "Well, you know. It's important to me. Hard to forget important things like that, y'know?" He was talking about her birthday but of course it was her that was important to him, Sam just didn't want to come right out and say it for some reason. "And you're welcome, it was nothin'."

He'd been a boy scout? Vanessa was inclined to believe most people were kidding when they made such claims but with Sam she didn't doubt it. He seemed like the boy scout type. Help old ladies across the street, carry people's groceries, stop to help people change a flat and avoid poisonous berries when lost in the woods. Yeah, that wasdefinitely Sam. Or it was when he was sane. Which, of course, brought up an important point. "So, are you actually sane now or are you still in denial and possibly going to snap at any moment like a Jekyll and Hyde act?" Subtlety had never been a virtue Vanessa had really embraced.

His uniform was probably still hanging in his bedroom closet back in his mother's house, truth be told, with all its badges still sewn neatly into place, the little hat and scarf sitting on the shelf above it. Sam knew this would likely be a question Vanessa would ask in some form or another, and even though he was somewhat used to her lack of subtlety it still caught him slightly off guard to be talking about that already. "I am, yeah. I spent a year at Muir, helping Jay out, and myself too." It had been good to get away from everything and to be able to address his own issues in that sort of vacuum. "He's doin' ok, so I decided to come back, see if I can make myself useful again."

"Have you tested your theory on your sanity?" There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, maybe something like a challenge. Vanessa wasn't doing well at accepting what people said at face value around here. One could say she was less trusting than she had been but she liked to think of it as more discerning. A noise down the hall outside the gym drew her gaze in a quick, sharp motion. She'd tensed, but when nothing followed her eyes went back to Sam. "After all, unless someone breaks up with you we may never be sure. We could probably find other ways to try to stress you out, though. We wouldn't want you going out with the team to save the day only to lose your shit, would we?" Despite what she was saying, Vanessa's tone was light. Almost joking. It should have been severe and judgmental, like the last time he'd tried to apologize to her colleagues via her, but it wasn't. There was even a ghost of a smile curling her lips. "People could end up barbecued that way and there's that strict no killing policy to abide by, you know."

Flashing Vanessa a lopsided grin, Sam rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head slightly. "Well, nothin's come up, but so far so good. Knock on wood, yeah?" He rapped his knuckles lightly against his head in jest. His grin faded a bit at the mention of someone else breaking up with him. "No worries about that, anyway, at least not anytime in the foreseeable future." Sam definitely was not in search of any kind of relationship whatsoever, and it'd likely be a long time before he even thought about that again. Her light tone kept him from getting his back up too much over her words, and his grin eased back into its normal shape once more. "I intend to abide by that, ma'am. Though if the Professor or anyone has any concerns, I'll gladly sit out for awhile." He wanted to be an asset, not a liability, after all.

"I'm sure if you start to flip out or something there will be someone around to put you in a headlock until you pass out. And the professor doesn't make a habit of letting people back in here if he's convinced they'll put the kids and other residents in danger." At least she hoped he didn't. He did let Nathan, herself and Wade all into the mansion, though. Sure, one could argue none meant to bring harm to these people but one could also argue none of them should have been trusted based on their pasts, telepathic scanning or no. "You were always a good guy, Sam. If you've found your way back into the light then I'm sure you still are. Just remember, if the light takes on a strangely tunnel-like quality you should avoid walking into it. I hear they've got amazing breakfast buffets but no history channel and what would you do without that?" One corner of her mouth quirked upward.

"Heh, yeah, I'm sure someone'll smack me upside the head if I get outta line." Hopefully it wouldn't have to come to that, however. She was right about the Professor, he wouldn't let anyone back if they weren't going to be a good fit. Sam chuckled at that sage pit of advice. "Don't walk through the tunnel towards the light, gotcha." He really didn't want to fall off of the path he'd just gotten back on so that shouldn't be a problem. "You're makin' me hungry now, heh. And no History Channel? Yeah, you know me, that'd be a deal breaker." He smiled at her, hands still in his pockets. "Thanks, Vanessa. That's mighty kind of you to say."

She shrugged off the thanks as if it was no big deal. The last time she had talked to him she had told him to apologize to her colleagues directly and to otherwise shove it, only much less kindly. The fact that she was being not only civil but downright friendly was something of a miracle. Maybe when they'd opened her head up they had rewired something the healing factor couldn't route back around properly. That was a good theory, she would go with that. "Welcome to my world. The hunger, I mean. Laura's metabolism is insane and I suspect getting liquid gruel through a tube in my nose probably wasn't enough to sate the healing factor. I've come to terms with the fact that every two to three hours I'm completely starving." She frowned, pouting a little. "My jaw's starting to get sore from chewing."

It really was nothing short of miraculous, to tell the truth, and it probably hadn't sunk in with Sam just yet. He was too busy having a civilized conversation with his ex that he thought would've gone nothing at all like this, but in a good way. "Ahh, yeah, I bet y'all have to burn through a lot of food to keep that up." Aww, he felt bad for her when she pouted a little there that time. "Well, maybe you can take some kinda shake or something to supplement things? Or find somethin' easier to eat, hmm." Maybe pasta would be good, that was kinda stuff was full of carbs and good for that kind of thing, right? Sam wasn't the most knowledgeable at that kind of thing, unfortunately.

"Mm...protein shakes." Her nose wrinkled and her lip curled. "Last time I drank one of those it was the most disgusting thing I had ever put in my mouth. Considering the amount of time I spent in poor South American and African countries I would say that was fairly impressive. No, I just need to accept that I have to eat non-stop, apparently. I think my metabolism is trying to replace energy from healing." Energy which she wasn't helping conserve by beating the living hell out of the heavy bag.

"Some of 'em can be pretty nasty, yeah, but there's a few good ones out there." Usually the palatable tasting ones were the most expensive, of course, but they did exist. "That's what's doing it, I reckon. Not that I'm an expert on Laura's abilities or anything, but I bet it burns up a ton of energy repairin' things like that." He paused before continuing. "But it's good to see that it's workin', just the same, massive appetite or not." Beating up on the bag probably was taking away from her energy reserves a little but there's something to be said for working out mental issues and healing that way too, of course. "Lots of food around, so you're good that way, too."

Vanessa groaned. It came out more like a whine but she was in denial about that. "I think you're in denial about my ability to cook things that don't come frozen in a box. Reheating is more my specialty, remember? Me and leftovers are good but there are only so many leftovers I can pinch before I either need to go for delivery, which can be light on the protein and heavier on the lo mein, or cook for myself...which could result in the people with super smell abilities dying from the stench of burnt meat. I burnt frozen chicken yesterday. You know the ones that come in a bag, you stick 'em on a pan and throw them in the oven for 20 minutes? Yeah...charred. I don't even know how. It's a special skill I have." Maybe she could use it to repel any man who wanted a stay at home wife. That would be handy.

Sam wasn't about to call her on it, he just grinned and nodded at her explanation. "Yeah, well, there's lots of microwaveable things and whatnot, I suppose. Or..." He was hesitant to make any kind of offer, for fear of coming across as too forward or anything, which was the last thing he wanted to do, but he felt obliged to make the suggestion anyway. "If you're ever stuck, I can be a little handy at times. Nothin' too fancy, y'know, but I can get by in the kitchen." He shrugged, he'd recently helped Adrienne in the same friendly fashion, taking her grocery shopping and giving her suggestions on prepping meals and whatnot. "No promises that I wouldn't burn or singe somethin' occasionally though, heh."

At some point while he was talking Vanessa had begun eyeballing the top of the heavy bag. Her hands had slid up to wrap around the chains that connected to the top of the bag and then ran up to converge and then attach to the ceiling above. By the time Sam had stopped talking she had sprung up and wrapped Laura's legs around the bag. Her hands slid up one by one until they were grasping the single chain and for a moment it looked like she might climb it like a rope. Vanessa leaned forward, temple resting against the back of one hand. "Wait, you can cook? I dated you for how long and didn't you know you could cook? You were holding out on me, Waffles." Vanessa wrinkled her nose. "I need a new nickname for you. I don't like that one anymore. So, when did you acquire this amazing ability to turn raw food into cooked food and why are you so secretive about it? Do you have a really weird routine when you cook? Like you need to be wearing pink lace panties and a matching boa or you get distracted and burn it all? And it's cool, if I eat my burnt cooking I can probably stomach yours. Charcoal's good for digestion, right?"

Sam watched her as she climbed the bag, wondering what was going on. "Uh... yeah, no, I always could make a few things, I reckon. From being the oldest of a big family, y'know, helpin 'Ma out sometimes. Nothing too fancy, mind you, but when needed I can break a few eggs or somethin'." He scratched the back of his head, unsure of what to say or do next here. She wasn't going to pounce him or anything, was she? He grinned a little at the mention of one of his old nickname she'd had for him, though, and about having to wear pink underwear or something in order to cook. "No ma'am, no tricks required. I don't know about charcoal being good for you but my stuff's not that bad, heh." At least he didn't think it was, but he hadn't really cooked for too many other people before so who could say for sure? "You, uh, you comfortable up there?" Sam grinned up at her, unable to stop himself from asking.

Vanessa shimmied up the bag a little, managing to hook a leg over the top of the bag and through the chains connecting to it. "It's like the tree I was secretly born in, love. No comfier place on earth." Okay, that was probably not the most accurate thing in the world, but Vanessa was okay with that. "Though, can I just say how disappointed I am in your lack of requisite inappropriate gear for cooking? I was really looking forward to circulating pictures of you in your boa around the internet. 'Good boys gone bad: the role big cities play in corrupting country boys.' It could be a special on twenty-twenty or something, you never know." She continued her climb up the bag until she was very carefully standing atop it and holding onto the main chain. It took very little effort to make it swing to and fro like a tire swing.

Curiouser and curiouser, Sam thought. He folded his arms, still grinning up at Vanessa as she perched atop of the bag, swinging back and forth every so slightly. "Well, sorry to disappoint I guess. Best I can do for you would be a cowboy hat, heh." Not nearly as sexy or risque as a boa and lingerie but, well, this was Sam we were talking about here. No more going bad for him, not if he could help it, anyway. He watched her, wondering exactly what she was going to do next, which was always an interesting question to ask where Vanessa was concerned.

"You're breakin' my heart here, Guthrie," she replied in a near perfect mimic of his accent. She leaned back further, widening the swing of the bag, and then leaned forward as it swung in Sam's direction with a little smirk on her face which was always a sign of trouble. "Unless we're talkin' 'bout you only wearing the cowboy hat. In that case..." she trailed off, her smirk turning into a mischievous sort of small. She rocked back and forth, upping the arc of the bag's swing.

Vanessa peered over her shoulder on a backswing. "Do you think I could pull off a back flip from here? Laura's got the whole agility and reflexes package going on, after all." She sounded rather convincing in her consideration of the prospect.

He shook his head, she really did have it spot on, which should come as no surprise. "Whoa, hey now, that's not what I said at all." Sam held his hands up, grinning at the same time however. Cooking naked was a big no-no to him, after all, he knew what they said about never frying bacon in the nude and whatnot. That was not a pretty thought, ugh.

Sam looked from where she was standing, to the ground, then back up at her again. That was a nice ways to jump, especially on a back flip. Not that he doubted Vanessa's talents, nor Laura's capabilities which she was borrowing, but she was on the mend and not at 100%. Better safe than sorry and all that, but he figured if he overreacted and tried to dissuade her from it she'd almost certainly do it. "Maybe." He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it off as no big deal, then tried to talk about food again. "Speaking of flips, though, I did see some apple flips downstairs somewhere. Wanna go grab one?" Nothing like a warmed up apple flip, mmmmm. "I didn't make 'em so they're probably good."

Food immediately derailed her train of thought. As amusing as the backflip might be her stomach was still trying to convince her it needed to be filled with things. Preferably edible things. "Wait, what's an apple flip? Like a pancake? A turnover? Something entirely different but full of apple, uh, -ness?" Yeah, that was a really strong finish there, wasn't it?

"Wait, you've never had one before?" His eyes went a little wide as he started incredulously at her. "Alright, that does it, come on down, I've gotta rectify this right away. Come on." Sam waved at her, extending his hand up in case she needed a hand getting down, hopefully without a back flip or anything similarly dangerous. "It's a pastry, filled with apple-y goodness. And when you warm 'em up, oh boy, just... do we have any vanilla ice cream?" That would be heavenly, yes. Now he was the one distracted, dang.

"We usually have some sort of ice cream around here, I think." Vanilla ice cream plus some warm pastry-type apple-filled thing? It did sound pretty amazing. Vanessa looked down and poked at her stomach. She imagined she could hear the poke echo in the hollow of her empty abdomen. For a minute she considered just jumping down but then Sam offered up his hand and he was so adorably sincere about that gesture that she reconsidered her exit strategy. Instead of jumping the metamorph ultimately chose to carefully climb down the bag again. She shimmied her way down far enough that she could take his hand and hop down. It was one of the very few moments of voluntary physical contact she'd had since regaining her consciousness. Oddly enough, she didn't relinquish his hand immediately. "Alright, Guthrie, lead me to this flippy utopia of which you speak. And it better be as good as you say." She narrowed her eyes and looked up at him. Up, wow, she wasn't used to that with Sam. "What do I get if they aren't amazing? I'm thinking the cowboy hat. For a week."

It was true that the main kitchen was exceptionally well stocked. One of the many perks to living in a mansion owned by a man such as Charles Xavier. Sam watched her climb down and then take his hand, and then helped her hop down safely to the ground. He hadn't counted on her holding onto his hand at all, really, or at least not much longer than necessary to get down from the bag, so he was a little surprised when she didn't pull away immediately. Sam took it as a good sign, however, and smiled at her, letting go of her hand himself. "Right this way, m'lady." He waved with both hands towards the kitchen, signalling for Vanessa to lead the way. "Oh, I guarantee that you'll find them more than amazing. I will take that bet, ma'am, cowboy hat for a week, because one," He counted off on his fingers. "They are gonna knock your socks off," Sam looked down to see if she was in fact wearing socks or not before continuing. "And two, I love my hat anyway, so it's win win, I reckon." He grinned and followed her, anxious to have one himself now.

"Are we going literal with the socks knocking claim?" she asked with a sly little smile appearing on her lips. "Because I assure you, sir, my socks tend to be quite happy on my feet and don't tend to wander off. They may be impervious to knocking, in fact." There was a follow up joke about knocking boots in there but she wasn't going to make it because she had enough exes awkward and troubling innuendo was shared with already. "And I know you love your hat, that's why it's on the line here. I traded one flip for another so if my socks stay on my feet you are down one hat for a week. And what will you do then? You? Hatless?" She clutched at her chest with both hands and gasped dramatically, then continued on with a mimic of his accent again. "That's like sixty percent of your identity! You will be a lost, lonely man, wandering the halls and the woods and the streets crying out for your lost love." Vanessa paused, reconsidered that wording, decided it was close enough and shrugged. "Love, hat, whatever."

"Maybe, because they are just that. Darn. Good. Scout's honour!" Once again he busted out the scout symbol, grinning goofily this time as he did so. "I dunno, not sure if any sock could be completely impervious, but I reckon we'll find out." He was grateful she didn't go there with it because yeah, awkward innuendo wasn't really Sam's thing, especially with Vanessa. He paused and then smacked himself on the forehead. "Ohhh, see, I thought you were darin' me to wear my hat for a week." That he'd gladly have done anyway, which wouldn't have made sense for a bet, now he was cluing in, whoops. "Still though, you're right, I'm risking my very identity here, that's how good these things are. I regret nothing!" He chuckled at her impression again, shaking his head. The words 'I've missed you, Vanessa' were on the tip of his tongue but he just stopped himself from saying them. "Come on, I'll even let you get the first one we warm up, being the gentleman that I am."

"Uh-huh. You could just be out to give me the first so you can test your reheating estimation so you get the better one," she pointed out lightly. "I know how you work with your Southern charm and the smile and the show of manners. You think you're slick, but let me tell you something-" she was now pointing at him, shaking her finger and even gave him a little poke in the chest. Then her jaw dropped a little, her eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed into a little suspicious line. "Okay, so you're just as slick as you think you are. But that's doesn't mean I'm not onto you and your good ole boy shtick!"

Sam dipped into a deeper Southern drawl than that with which he naturally spoke. "Me? Southern charm, an' slick? Well, sirrah, ah nevah!" He laughed after he said it, though, even at the little poke in the chest he'd gotten from Vanessa. "Ok, ok, you're on to me. We'll do 'em both at the same time, and you can even pick which one you want first, how about that?" It was either that or he'd do what his ma used to do with him and his siblings: one would be the one to cut whatever they were fighting over in two, and the other would get first pick as to which half they wanted.

The drawl drew a suspiciously giggle-infused laugh from Vanessa. "You're less charming with that accent, stick to the real one. Also, dual heating works. Then you can't have an unfair advantage." She pointed at him, finger wiggling a bit. "I know how that brain of yours works. Always out for itself, always selfish and greedy and needy, never putting anyone else first and always saving the best behind your back so no one knows you took it for yourself. Uh-huh, you are totally corrupt under that sweet veneer of yours." She was obviously kidding, the hint of a smile giving her away along with the playfully suspicious tone.

"I dunno about charming, but you're definitely right that I should stick to the real one." He chuckled, shaking his head a little. "Aw shucks, it sounds like you've finally figured me out, Vanessa." Sam put both of his hands up in a sign of surrender as she wagged her finger at him. "Looking out for number one, that's me, yup. Guilty as charged." He knew she was kidding and was joking right back with Vanessa, grinning along with her. "Better watch out, I just might wolf mine down first and try to steal some of yours."

"Yeah, 'try' being the key word there, Country. I've got Laura's reflexes, an insane appetite and you're taking me to a kitchen. Because me having claws isn't bad enough, you're gonna put me near knives to defend my flip thing." Sam probably had no idea how handy Vanessa was with a blade now that she thought about it. She had been more open about her past as a prostitute than her past as a mercenary when they were together and Morgan had never had violent tendencies on display really. Arguably some anger issues, but she wasn't a weapon wielder. "You try to de-flip me and it'll be war, boyo."

"Alright, alright, let's call a truce then. We can even make it official." Sam put on his best serious face and raised his hand, all official like, as if about to swear a solemn oath. "We hold the deliciousness of these desserts to be self evident, that all men - and women," he added, "are created equal, and that we are all endowed with certain inalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of flipiness." He bit his lip before adding. "Plus ice cream. That'll be an amendment."

Vanessa erupted in a rather girlish, giggling laugh. She completely blamed Laura's mimic for that and no one could prove otherwise if they tried to challenge her on it. "Yessir." She snapped into attention, then gave him a proper military salute. A moment later her posture relaxed and she shook her head. Pointing ahead of them she declared, "Onward! For flippiness!"