xp_logs | Sorry Has No Meaning. Really [Nathan and M] Backdated to Thursday Afternoon (Reply)

Nathan was halfway down the stairs when lights started to shimmer at the edges of his vision. "Oh, shit," he muttered, and tried to hurry down the rest of the way. It was a mistake; as the lights flashed brighter and all the noise in the world faded to a distance, his equilibrium deserted him and he crumpled, tumbling down the last few steps and landing in a crumpled heap. He didn't feel the impact, though. He was already lost in another battle, green-armored soldiers pressing in on him from every side as he tried to fight his way through. His friends were somewhere ahead, trapped. Dead, unless he made it to them in time--

Monet looked up from her notebook only long enough to step over the body at the bottom of the stairs. From what she'd heard, this was extremely common behaviour from the new adult in the school, so it probably wasn't important. Besides, there were a lot of people around who were much better able to respond. She skipped up the stairs dropping that note book and picking up another.

She was all the way back down stairs and past the reclining man when she realised that she'd forgotten her calculator. "Fuck," she muttered, climbing back over the irritating obstruction racing back up to her room. Finally ready, she stepped over the body again, that was twitching a little now, before realising she had a ready made excuse for being late. She tucked her math stuff under one arm and then hoisted the large man up and carried him towards the recc room.

"So what am I supposed to do with this?" she asked as she entered the recc room. This, however, seemed to be a trigger, and the body exploded into motion.

Nathan, as the vision faded, losing its grip on him, was abruptly aware that someone was too close. Stranger. Carrying him--carrying him? Instinctively, he pulled away, lashing out with his telekinesis as he did.

Monet felt herself being slammed away from the person in her arms and dropped him, being slapped into a wall. She grunted in surprise and dropped her class supplies.

Nathan hit the floor, the impact leaving him briefly dazed. He could still sense someone there, and he started to strike at him again, started and--stopped, as his head cleared and he didn't sense any hostility from him. No. Her, he thought, blinking up and try to focus on the face of the lovely young woman pushing herself away from the wall.

"Shit--" he wheezed. "I didn't--are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" she echoed, her voice high. "Am I ~okay~?" She glared at him. "I most certainly am not!" She brushed a hand over her long black hair. "Do you have any idea of how hard it is to get plaster out of your hair? Am I okay!"

Nathan blinked up at her for a long moment, totally bewildered. His mind was still trying to figure out what time period it wanted to be in, and although he was very glad that she didn't seem to be hurt he really wasn't sure why she was yelling at him about plaster. "I don't--you're not hurt?"

Monet rolled her eyes, utterly unimpressed. "Well, if you don't count hair care, which I sure as fuck do, I'm fabulous. You don't think it naturally looks this good, do you?" She narrowed her eyes. "Since you're fine, could you write me a note?"

Nathan pushed himself up to his hands and knees, concentrating on breathing for a moment, until his head cleared a little further. "Write you a note for what?" he asked raggedly, still more than slightly lost. If he hadn't hurt her, this wasn't so bad. Although the wall was going to need a little repair. "And what the hell were you doing carrying me around?" he demanded more roughly, taken aback as he got a better look at her. This girl had been carrying him around? "You kids were told not to come near me if you found me passed out--"

"I need a note saying I was helping you so that's why I am late for Math. And was that what that message said, I didn't read it properly. You should be careful, someone could hurt themselves falling over you," she scolded. "You were at the bottom of the stairs so it wasn't so bad, but what if you'd been at the top and someone feeble fell over you?" She collected up her belongings. "Plus, it just looks dumb having bodies lying around the place. Messy and stuff, y'know?"

"Messy," Nathan said a bit faintly, slumping into a sitting position. Maybe it was the hangover from the vision already, but all of this was seeming overly surreal. "I didn't--I don't precisely pick where I fall over--" He stopped, frowned, and looked at her again. "Note?" he asked plaintively. "I almost put you through the wall and you want a note?" Yes. Definitely surreal.

"Well, duh. Otherwise I get grief for being late. Although an apology too'd be cool, I guess," she brightened as she thought of that. "Yeah, you can apologise. And a note." She handed over her notebook and a pen, then tapped her foot at him in impatience.

Nathan was regaining just enough of his composure to realize just how funny the situation was. Since she wasn't hurt -- had to be invulnerable, or at least particularly sturdy, he reflected - no harm done, he supposed. Except to the wall. And possibly his pride.

"Who am I writing it to?" he asked a bit dizzily. "And you're not getting much of an apology, kid. Wouldn't have happened if you'd left me alone like you were supposed to." He was tired of apologizing to people, anyway.

Monet frowned. "Well, fine, next time I will. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to kick you a bit while you're there?" She sighed noisely. "And make the note out to Dr McCoy." She shook her head at the the ignorance and ingratitude of the world at large.

Nathan managed to open the notebook and get the pen in the right hand. "Dear Dr. McCoy," he muttered, managing to keep his penmanship at least marginally legible, despite how shaky his hand was continuing to be. "Monet had an aesthetic objection to my decision to nap at the bottom of the stairs. Hence, she is late." He handed the notebook and the pen back over with the brightest, fakest smile he could manage.

Monet took the note, noticing his shakiness. "Hey, you don't have the D-Ts or something, do you?" she asked in passing, glancing at the note. She frowned momentarily, then shrugged. "Oh well, I guess it's better than nothing."

Nathan stared at her in disbelief. "You're very odd, aren't you?"

Monet paused and blinked at him. "I don't think so," she said airily. "Besides around here it'd take effort to be odd, and why would I bother?" She beamed a smile at him. "I've got class. Ciao!" Clearly dismissive, she left him to his own devices and left.

"Strange girl," Nathan muttered after a moment, and then set about trying to get back to his feet.

Dr McCoy did not look impressed as Monet sauntered into class, well and truly late. "So, you have obliged us with your presence, but not, perhaps precipitately, Ms St Croix."

Monet waved a hand. "I was helping a guy with narcolepsy." She handed over the note she carried. "He didn't apologise for the plaster, but here's a note. I think he was trying to be funny." Dr McCoy sighed. "Seat yourself," he said, glancing at the note. He frowned once more, bemused. "Strange girl," he added. "We are attending to page 47 if you would like to join us."