LOG: Vance and Terry

[x-justice.livejournal.com]

The Danger Room. Vance was still a little surprised to find himself here. Even having been shown the ropes, Vance was a little wary of any placed called the Danger Room. What did Scott have planned for him? What was going to be tested first? How would he be pushed? He hooked two fingers under the collar of his temporary training uniform and pulled it away from his neck in a clear sign of nerves. Ever so often, his eyes returned to the indicator that told him someone else was inside and using the room, so he just waited his turn. Patiently. Not fidgeting-- well, maybe fidgeting a little bit. Even pacing up and down the hallway, back and forth. After all, nerves were still nerves, even if this was a safe(r) environment to practice in than real experience.


The noises from inside were a strange mixture of rumbles and shrieks and vibrations felt more than actually heard, but the walls contained their secrets well until the indicator faded and a moment later, the door opened on a Theresa Cassidy taking a drink from a water bottle as she exited. Signs of exertion were plain to see, even if she wasn't fully suited up. Sweat-darkened hair escaped from her braid, and her breathing had a rasped edge to it. She halted, eyes widening, when she spied who it was waiting for the room. "Oh!"


As the light turned off indicating the Danger Room was waiting for its next occupant, Vance turned around in the hallway, walking the short distance back towards the door. And as Terry stepped out of the Danger Room, Vance froze on the spot, a little stunned. “Uh,” Vance said smoothly in a combination of surprise, edged with pleasure, “Hi.” His eyes took in her condition, and he flushed slightly as his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck as his expression turned mildly sheepish. “Fancy meeting you here.” Smooth. /So smooth/. (Maybe not so much.)


"Hi," she returned softly, not pushing too much force through her vocal chords. She crinkled her nose and a blush spread across it and splashed over her cheeks. "You're... okayed to be down here?" she asked hesitantly, lifting a hand to smooth her hair back out of her face in a self-conscious gesture. Spandex might be convenient for workouts, but it usually is not the sort of thing one wants to encounter good looking targets of ambiguous feelings in.


“Yeah,” Vance breathed, still a little hesitant now that he was faced with this redhead in particular. His eyes followed her self-conscious movements, and his feet shifted slightly as he worked on not being self-conscious himself. At which point he lowered his hand from the back of his head, suddenly aware of the posture he’d been standing in. “I talked with Scott a few days ago. He said he could help me learn about my… powers.” Boy, it was still funny referring to them as that out loud. “One thing led to another, and-- well, here we are.” He gave Terry another slightly sheepish smile that couldn’t quite overpower the excitement shining around the edges of it. “First session all alone.”


Terry's demeanor softened, though her eyes remained sharp and observant as she searched his face for clues to how he felt about it. It wasn't quite the same situation, but she had been taken in before by people with power hang ups. "Good," she finally said, still speaking quietly and lowly. "It takes practice just like any other skill." She paused again and turned to glance back at the open doors, allowing him space to pass her if he wanted. "Do you..." she started, then looked back at him. "Want a spotter?"


“That’s what Scott said. I’ve done some work on my own. But it’s not always easy to… practice,” Vance finished, a little lamely. As terry turned to go, Vance stepped aside to let her pass and take the open doorway. When she stopped, though, so did Vance. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her as she started to speak, and then gave her a slight smile that was a mixture of relief, excitement, and a touch of nerves as he turned back towards the redhead. “If you-- don’t mind. I think I’d like that.”


Terry narrowed her eyes slightly at his comment about practicing, curiosity piqued. Her own powers were difficult enough to practice with, especially when she was first learning about them. So she simply turned around and headed back to the doors, coming up short before she ran into his back. "So. Just /how/ hard?"


Vance was suddenly torn between bravado and integrity, and a brief look of consternation appeared on his face as he looked back into the Danger Room, then back at Terry. “Uh,” he started eloquently, verbally stalling with his quick wits. “I think I’m just going to stick with standard intensity to start. Scott gave me a program to use, too.” Vance then flashed a mildly self-amused smile, “Just yell at me if I’m going to get brained and don’t see it coming.”


Terry grinned suddenly and slid a slyly-amused look at him. "I was asking how hard it is for you to practice. Don't worry, Astrovik. I'll start you on the bunny run." She moved to the panels and called up a program designated for him, then settled in to watch and assist as needed.


“Oh! Well-- long story.” Vance exclaimed in sudden understanding, too late to rescue himself from looking the fool. He flushed just slightly and quickly turned to stride into the Danger Room proper in an attempt to hide the brief embarrassment. He waited for Terry to call up his program, watching her from the corner of his eye while she did so. Once his training program was engaged, though, there wasn’t much time for him to pay attention to her as challenged as he was.

About 15 minutes later, after the training sequence ended, Vance grinned exhaustedly over at the redhead, despite the blood leaking from his nose. “If that’s the bunny run, I’d hate to see the black diamond.” He sagged slightly and stumbled as he turned to head for the panel by the doors to check his performance.


Terry was at his side quickly enough to lend a hand (or shoulder). "Hey, boyo, this is about training, not killing yourself," she chided, her accent thickening in response to her concern. She assisted him to the side, then looked around for something to mop up the blood.


“No, I kno--,” Vance cut off as his legs suddenly went a little wobbly, and he leaned on Terry’s shoulder for a minute while he regained his strength. He coughed embarrassedly, his cheeks flushed with a little color as he took more pressure off of Terry by leaning against the wall next to the door. “Uh. So-- yeah. As I was saying, I know it’s just training. But I still need to learn how to push myself, right? And better that it’s now when I have someone to help me. I won’t kill myself,” he said, and tried to give Terry a reassuring grin despite the blood, “I promise.”


Terry balled her hands on her hips and pinned him in place with a stern look. "There's a difference between pushing limits and trying to blow right past them. Especially with something like this. Tis not like exercise and endurance. Not entirely, any way. It's just a much a matter of control, and when you get too tired to keep your blood on the inside o' your body is when you are in danger of losing it."


“Okay,” Vance said as he raised his hands and tried to smile graciously in an acceptance of defeat. Or maybe in the face of good advice. Nose and lip still bloodied, he touched his fingers to the liquid to gauge how bad it was. “Crap. I’ve been standing here looking the idiot, haven’t I? Weak-kneed and bloody-nosed, looking like I just lost a fight in the schoolyard.” His face twisted slightly in self-recrimination before he looked back at Terry again, “Sorry. You’re totally right, of course.”


Terry folded her arms in front of her and rocked back on her heels, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Of course I am. Ye are a wise man to recognize that early," she teased. She then took a step forward and pinched the center of his shirt, lifting it up high enough to wipe at his lip. "Good thing I always had a soft spot for the hard luck cases," she murmured with just a hint of raspyness still straining her voice.


Vance flashed a quick smile to Terry at her teasing. When she stepped in to wipe the blood away, though, Vance went a little more still before he lifted his hand. And still holding the pinched shirt to his lip to clean the blood, his hand closed gently over Terry’s, holding it there for a brief second as he responded to her quieter murmur with a soft reply of his own, as his hazel eyes met her green ones for long enough him to say, “Thanks.” His fingers moved slightly to take over the hold on his own shirt and relaxed around her hand, which would allow Terry to extricate herself easily if she chose to.


Terry slid a glance up, acknowledging the contact silently before she let her gaze slip away along with her hand. She tugged it gently out of his grip and took a step back, exhaling a breath as she moved and turned to trigger the doors. "So. You done, or are you planning on giving it another go?" she asked over her shoulder.


“I think I need to get myself a little cleaned up before I go for a second session,” Vance said wryly, fabric still pressed to nose and upper lip, suddenly and acutely self-aware. He stood upright from the wall and moved for the doors with Terry, a slightly pensive look on his face. As the doors to the Danger Room closed behind them, he spoke up before Terry could turn away. “Theresa. There’s--“ he faltered, voice a little tense as he continued. “There’s something else you need to know about me. You know how I said it wasn’t easy for me to practice with my powers?”


Terry fell into step next to him, turning to the side to sweep up a light sweatshirt dumped outside the room as he spoke. "Mhm?" she murmured encouragingly, shrugging her way into the shape-disguising material, her head popping through in a cloud of hair. She pushed her hair back out of her face before pulling the hem of the hoodie down around her hips.


Vance continued to walk next to Terry while she re-situated herself with her hoodie, holding his shirt against his face. When she was finally adjusted enough, he let the shirt pull away from his face so he could turn and look at her sidelong. “I couldn’t practice,” he began quietly, almost bracing himself for any possible outcome to the end of this reveal, “Because I spent almost two years in jail before I even met you.” His eyes then slid away from the redhead, the shirt pushing back against his nose as he practically hid away from the reaction he was most afraid of getting.


Getting adjusted enough meant snagging up a water bottle before continuing, so she was in the process of taking a drink when he explained. She did nothing so dramatic as a spit take or stumble, though. She simply stopped drinking and slid a glance sideways to him before slowly lowering her bottle, the plastic crinkling under her fingers and her face gone still and blank. "Oh?"


“Yeah,” Vance breathed, still withdrawn and wary, even though he saw no explosion from the redhead next to him. He continued to hold the shirt against his nose in a few moment of silence before he added in a subdued voice, “I killed my father. I-- didn’t mean to. It just sort of… happened. I lost control and lashed out because he was going to lay into my mom.” Considering the subject, Vance held up pretty well. He continued to walk alongside Terry as he talked, though he couldn’t quite look at her for fear he’d see the horror in her face. His voice was steady, if quiet and somber, and he seemed to withdraw into himself as he shared the story. “I never met to hit him as hard as I did. That’s-- it’s a big reason why I want to be here. Why I want to do this. I don’t want to ever kill anyone again.”


Terry's steps slowed until she stopped moving entirely, and when she did, she turned in place to face him, her movements slow and careful. There was no horror on her face, unless the hints of the ingrained distaste of a law enforcement officer upon encountering such a crime counted. She was careful though, careful and disciplined and reserved and that control spoke to an awareness of some of the implications of her response. "What did you get charged with? Involuntary?" she asked, pulling her hands into her sleeves and folding her arms in front of her as a barrier between them. Her water bottle nestled in the crook of one arm. "How long had you been out?" You know, when they had met.


“Yes,” Vance confirmed to Terry’s question of the charges brought against him. He had stopped walking when she had, and was turned to face her. He couldn’t help but notice the very real shift of her body language, but tried to take it in stride and meet her eyes as best he could, his own hazel irises clear and speaking of an inner resoluteness. He was not timid, but carried himself with /some/ measure of gravitas and responsibility, as hesitant as he was to initially share the story. “When I met you, I had been out for a couple of months. I got permission to travel. …I think half the reason why they okayed it was so the threats and the outrage might have a chance to die down because I wasn’t around.” Of course, the strength of his character may have been slightly marred by his bloody shirt held inches away from his face.


Terry's eyes narrowed a little, drawing a furrow across her forehead. "How old were you when it happened?"


Vance frowned slightly, but did not back down from the question. His hand and shirt were lowered from his face before he answered, however, leaving him exposed to Terry’s scrutiny, “I was 20 years old.”


Terry's frown deepened, but she just shook her head slightly as if trying to clear it of a web of questions. She glanced down and shifted her weight before peering back up at him. "Why tell me?" The inflection was flat, able to be taken in so many different ways.


Vance remained quiet in the face of Terry’s scrutiny, the blood on his face mostly dried into some kind of mask that covered half of his lower face in a red and browning mass. “Because,” Vance started quietly, his eyes clear as he held the redhead’s gaze, “You should hear it from me first. I—“ And here Vance faltered slightly and looked away from Terry as he collected his thoughts. His eyes returned slowly, as did his words. “I would rather tell you face to face now than have you hear it from someone else first. If I’m going to be working on my control and my abilities with you and training with you, or anyone else here, you all at least deserve to know the truth about me and about my history. About what I have done. I don’t want it to be some secret that comes back to hurt me down the road. Or worse, some secret that hurts you.”


"Lots of mutants are having traumatic manifestation stories. Lots of mutants hurt people before they understand what is happening. What it is they are," Terry said, still with that flat, uninviting tone. She exhaled and shook her head again, looking down and away. "I appreciate you telling me, Vance. It is what it is." She unfolded her arms and opened her bottle of water, closing again to take up a handful of his shirt and wet it. "Wipe your face, boyo."


Vance watched Terry carefully as she talked to him, and then took the wet bit of shirt from her again so that he could clean his face up as he wiped away the dried blood to clean himself off. “Thanks,” is all Vance said again, a little unclear as to what the thanks was for this time. Maybe it was for not judging him and calling him a monster. Or maybe it was for helping him clean his face up.


If he doesn't know what he was thanking her for, she doesn't know what she said "You're welcome," for either. She pushed the bottle of water at him, then flicked a rueful smile at him before turning and heading down the hallway.


“See you around, Terry,” Vance offered by way of parting, the bottle of water clutched in his hand, shirt still bunched up and messier now. His eyes followed the redhead for just a brief moment as she walked away from him, and then he turned in another direction and headed for whatever room would allow him to take care of his face and nose. Oh, and get a new shirt.


Vance reveals his abilities, and then a darker secret.