xp_logs | Rahne and Nathan, early Monday afternoon...

Rahne stops by with the promised porridge and some Manuel-related things to tell Nathan.

Rahne went over bits of her conversation with Manuel again in her head as she climbed the stairs and turned toward Lady Moira's room. She wasn't sure if the Lady Moira was actually there, but she thought Nathan probably was. She knocked a little more firmly than she had the day before.

The knock woke him out of a restless doze on the couch, and Nathan blinked, rubbing at his eyes as he sat up. "Yes?" he called out hoarsely, trying to focus on the presence on the other side of the door.

"'Tis Rahne," she called through the door. "Do ye have time to talk?" She glanced down at the tray she'd balanced on her other arm and smiled to herself a little. "I brought ye oatmeal if ye want any. With ginger."

Nathan ran a hand through his hair. "Come in," he called, relaxing a little as he reached out and unlocked the door with his telekinesis. He managed a lopsided smile as Rahne walked in, carrying a tray. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon," he said. "Not that I'm complaining." And he wasn't, either. It was awfully quiet in here - Moira had decided finally that he could be left alone for a while and gone down to do some work in the lab. The solitude was good in some ways, not so good in others. The not-good ways weren't nearly bad enough to incline him towards leaving this room, though.

"I thought ye might like something to eat -- with yuir head and all, I wasna sure about your stomach, so I thought the ginger might be a good idea." Rahne set the tray down on the endtable nearest him.

"Your oatmeal. I'd forgotten." Nathan laughed softly. "Thank you, Rahne," he said, picking up the bowl. "Hadn't had much to eat today." He tried the oatmeal a bit tentatively, and was surprised at how different it was from what Moira had tried to force on him that once, years ago. "This is very good," he said after a moment, hoping he didn't sound too amazed.

She grinned. "I try. Porridge with everythin' in it, I think Jamie called it once. Bit of a joke early on."

Nathan tried a little more, rather intrigued by the taste. "The ginger's nice," he said. "My--I knew someone who was very fond of ginger tea."

"I wasna sure how well that combination would work," Rahne admitted, "but I couldna think of any reason for it *not* to. Ginger tea's good." She invited herself to sit on the other half of the couch, not close enough to crowd. If he hadn't eaten much, she'd let him get a bit further before bringing up other things.

She very clearly had something on her mind, Nathan realized, giving her a sideways look as he ate some more of the porridge. Nothing that had her particularly agitated, but she was open enough that he could read her, with only a little concentration, and--

He dropped the spoon, only barely managing not to do the same with the bowl. "You've--been talking to Manuel," he said tightly, instinctively shifting further towards his end of the couch.

"Och, I was gonnae let ye finish eating first." Rahne squelched the impulse to reach out, that generally being a bad idea when someone was trying to get away from you. "Aye, he wanted to talk." Important things first, she told herself firmly. "I did tell him what ye said about the trigger, and that ye tried verra hard *not* to harm him, instead of trying to and failing. And he -- verra much wants to know more about his power, but not to -- he was quite insulted at the idea he'd try to do what'd been done in yuir mind. I tried to explain why people might think that from how he puts things... donnae ken if I did a good job, but maybe at least about ye."

Nathan set the bowl of porridge and the spoon aside, very carefully, and picked up one of the napkins on the tray, using it to blot the splotches of porridge on the couch. "I--um. Thank you for explaining things to him." That saved him the unpleasant task of doing it himself, at least.

"Well... he did seem to think ye'd maybe meant to kill him, and I thought 'twas important to get that much cleared up."

Nathan nodded slowly. "Yes," he said, as evenly as he could. "Can't have him going around the school calling me an assassin, can we?" He forced himself to smile at Rahne, to make clear it was meant to be a joke. Not that it came off as all that funny, he thought bleakly.

"Er... better not, aye." Rahne looked down at her hands, which were very carefully folded in her lap; when Nathan had started edging away she'd drawn in to take up the least possible amount of space without actually cringing. "If I said too much, I'm sorry...."

"Don't apologize," Nathan said, holding the smile on by force of sheer will, even though part of him wanted to shout at the girl, to demand she tell him precisely what she had told Manuel. He hadn't given her all that many details, had he? That conversation he'd had with her was a little hazy, honestly.

She looked over at him. "'Tisna as if it takes an empath to see ye're not pleased."

"It's all right, Rahne," he said, trying to make the words sound as convincing as possible. "I'm just being a little paranoid, I suppose. You really think he wants to--talk to me again?"

"He wants to know more about his power, and ye seem to be the only one here who knows more about it than he's been able to find so far. So... aye. But maybe -- but best not in person, at least not for a good while yet." She hesitated. "He said he'd come to me because he couldna approach ye or the Lady Moira. I said... I'd ask. 'Twould be nice if he could learn to control his power *without* controlling other people, more."

"The things he could learn from me aren't--" Nathan stopped himself, taking a deep breath and picking the bowl of porridge back up. "I should eat this before it gets cold, shouldn't I?"

"...Probably so." Rahne bit her lip. "I'll tell him ye doona think ye can help, if ye like."

"No," Nathan said, more sharply than he'd intended. Rahne's eyes widened a little, and he went on, struggling for a more moderate tone. "I mean, you don't need to do that. I'll--well, I'll talk to him." Eventually. Once he figured out if it was possible to tell the kid no without essentially daring him to do it anyway. An empath with Manuel's strength didn't need to ask permission before he started playing with your emotions, and he could very well do it from some distance away. The idea was terrifying in its possibility for collateral damage, if Manuel hit another trigger--

"Well, so will I. I mean, I do see him about and all, not that I'll answer for ye if ye'd rather I not. What *would* ye rather I say?"

"Tell him--" Nathan stopped, floundering. "Tell him I'll think about it. Figure out what I might be able to tell him. But we've got to--to do it some other way." He swallowed. "And not for a while."

"I think we'd already established 'some other way,'" Rahne said wryly. She tilted her head, hands still folded. "I wouldna want ye hurt again. Or him hurt, either. I ken how he sounded, though. In the comments, I mean. I doona ken how to explain to him generally how some of what he says does sound, but when he was complaining about people assuming the worst, I.... Och, ye wouldna ken that, not being here then. See, when he came here... he was in the medlab for a while, because Ms. Frost got away with him from people who'd been drugging him to make his powers work... only when they wanted. So I told him, it seemed to me, he probably sounded to you like a stranger talking about controlling his powers with drugs would sound to him." She looked back down at her hands as she finished.

There were times he just really hated--well, the whole damned world, Nathan thought bleakly as he absorbed Rahne's words. But he couldn't afford too much sympathy for Manuel, couldn't afford to let his guard down like that--could he? Maybe the kid was trying, but would he be able to resist exploiting an opening if he was given one?

"You strike me a very patient and persistent person," he said more quietly. "They're admirable qualities, Rahne, but you may not want to put yourself in the middle of this any more than you already have."

He was worried about her *and* she'd upset him. Rahne sighed. "I'm sorry to have... intruded, then."

*Ham-handed idiot,* he accused himself. "You didn't," he said heavily. "You tried to do what you could to help--both of us." He tried to smile, but didn't quite manage it. "It's not your fault I'm not an easy person to help. You seem to have had more success with Manuel. Maybe focusing on him would be more productive. Sounds like he needs a friend like you."

"I ken he does." That, Rahne thought as soon as it was out of her mouth, sounded horribly egotistical. "I mean, he does need friends, and he's -- better around people who care about right and wrong and arena upset all the time." She tried a small smile of her own. "So I doona go and see him after self-defence or such."

The smile was a little easier this time. "You remind me of Moira, you know," he murmured. "Quite a bit."

Rahne looked up, eyes widening a bit. "Aye? No just the accent?" Now she sounded absurdly hopeful.

"Not just the accent," he assured her, seizing gratefully on the distraction, and his smile widened slightly, despite everything. "Or the hair."

"Thanks." She smiled back finally, feeling rather warmed. Lady Moira was worth being like. "She's -- I've been to Muir, a few months back. And she's the one explained to Reverend Craig and all what I was."

"She and I spent a lot of good times on Muir," Nathan said somewhat wistfully.

"She did say ye were an old friend." Rahne looked down at the remnants of the porridge spotting. "Here, I'll get something to clean off the rest of that while ye finish."

"Thanks," Nathan said. "Wouldn't want to have Moira scolding me for making a mess of her upholstery." He raised the bowl, almost in salute. "And I won't badmouth oatmeal again anytime soon. This is very good."

"Glad ye like it. So, I shouldna try to put coffee in the next time?"

"Why not? Anything is better with coffee."