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xp_logsLayla stops by with food for the patient as per usual and finds out that he's leaving so she finally brings up something that happened in Genosha.
The knock on the door frame was a rapid series of quickfire sounds that were immediately followed by the bright smile of a teenage girl. "Herr Fremde," Layla saluted before coming in without waiting for an invitation. She bore a plate complete with a cover that she swore only existed in movies and TV shows when people got room service but apparently they existed for real and the mansion had them. She'd just found those yesterday so this was only the second day of surprise unveiling potential. Not that it was much of a surprise when Layla laid the plate down on the table next to David North's medlab bed and informed him, "I come bearing spaetzle and sauerbraten!"
The cover was lifted to reveal just that and David smiled at the teenager in appreciation as the aroma of freshly cooked meat filled the room. His stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, reminding him that he had unwisely decided to have only tea and toast for breakfast. “I think said this yesterday, but you really are going to make me fat, Miss Miller,” the mansion's resident invalid commented as he put away the laptop he had been working from, cracking his back as he crossed his legs Indian style. “Looks excellent, as always. I'm beginning to suspect that you are part German.”
"Nope, just like standard issue mutt." She dragged a chair over closer to him and folded a leg under her as she sat down. Layla didn't generally stay for long but she figured her being a weirdo was at least something different from the monotony of laying in bed all. day. long. All day every day. Dude, Layla had so been there. And usually way worse off than he was. It got boring being laid up and by yourself. "And don't you have to be like not under weight to get fat, dude? I hear you're like legit scrawny and in dire need of fattening. So I'm contributing. 'Cause I totally fatten like really well. It's like a gift!"
Forking a spaetzle and popping the dumpling in his mouth, David settled for answering her with a pleased noise as he chewed and swallowed, following it with a spoonful of the sauerbraten. He raised a second spoonful at her in a mock salute.
“Might be the last meal you bring down here for me, though.”
This immediately brought the most offended, affronted expression Layla had in her arsenal to the fore. It was a little overly done but, hey, she was nothing if not facially dramatic. "Have you replaced me? It's not my fault most of what I can make is Bavarian! I swear, it's just that it's the Bavarian is teaching me to make stuff! I can do better! Don't fire me!" She even threw in a steadily wibbling lower lip for even more drama. With her leaning so far forward the whitening knuckles really had more to do with needing the grip on the chair's arms so she didn't fall over than anything.
Placing a palm against Layla’s forehead, the German man unceremoniously pushed the girl back into her seat, expression bland as he held out a spaetzle-on-a-fork for her to eat. Obviously, he had gotten used to her antics in the week she had been feeding him and she seemed as unperturbed as ever by his blunt but patient ways.
“Last meal you bring down here for me,” he repeated slowly, before quirking a small smile at the hyperactive blond. “I don’t intend to be here tomorrow.”
Layla took the offered spaetzle and stared at him as she chewed. She tried to make the expression as much a suggestion that he had four heads as possible. "Are you breaking out?" she eventually asked in a stage whisper. "'Cause the really mean lady doctor has ways and she will lay you the fuck out if she catches you. You're going to need supplies. I can get you a paperclip and a fork but you're on your own for the rest."
Expression serious, David leaned forward to inform her in a hushed tone: “There’s a reason Adrienne calls me Ninja, Miss Miller.” Then he sat back and fed himself another spoonful of food.
“I’m trusting you to keep my secrets to yourself, of course,” he added, almost belatedly but with his usual half-smile back in place. “And you may name a price for your paperclip, fork and silence. Within reason.”
"I'm guessing a pony is way out of reason?" Layla grinned. "Like I would know what to do with a pony. Hello, city girl here. I guess I kinda owe you so the paperclip, fork and silence are payback, pre-paid with keeping my ass alive and shit, you know?" Though maybe she should have asked for cake. "So, I guess if you're springing yourself you're like better-ish, right? So does that mean if I ask why you told me we needed to have a chat if we both lived you'll tell me?"
“Well, I’m not quaking myself off the bed anymore,” David pointed out, referring to one of her first comments to seeing him in withdrawal. “So yes, I’ll tell you.” He would have told her a week ago if she had asked, actually. But the little chattermouth was being polite, it seemed.
Elbow resting on her knee, Layla propped her chin in her hand and looked at the man as if he was going to tell her the most fascinating story ever. "Okay, then, how come you said I had to talk to you?"
“How long did you say you’ve been learning to fight for?” the spy asked, by way of a preamble.
"Uh...like technically like six months? Seven months? I think Kyle started training me in like November? But then I was like all roadkillified for like six weeks the first time and then I was roadkillified for like two months, maybe even a little longer, the second time. So I guess realistically like three-ish months?" This time staring at the German like he had three heads was much more sincere. "Why? What's that got to do with anything? Like, I know I'm totally useless in a fight. Like I can hit people with skateboards and break noses with punches but like, yeah, that's like the extent of my mad skills. Okay, I mean, not the whole extent, obviously, since Kyle's been teaching me stuff and then I learned how to do leg sweeps and that arm chop thingum from you."
“You’re not useless in a fight,” the precog told her bluntly. “Do you remember how many blows we traded during that spar? I wasn’t really holding back.” Much.
"I...kinda remember?" Layla rubbed the back of her head, thinking it over. "It's a little blurry. Hell, most of that shit is. I think the like mind numbing panic and doom sort of made shit bleed together. Anyway, I'm a lot more useless than people that can like hit you with lightning or shoot beam things out of their eye. Or, fuck dude, Molly is more useful in a fight and she's thirteen but all like indestructible and shit." The teenager shrugged. "But okay, let's say I'm not totally useless in a fight. So what?"
David ignored the question, as he chewed and swallowed, offering the girl a spoonful of sauerbraten as though feeding her was the most natural thing in the world to do. “Do you also remember how you told me who to shoot and where to shoot on the battlefield? And how you knew someone was going to shoot Adrienne before I did? And how you basically had Adrienne following your orders while she was the one holding a rocket launcher in her hands?”
And cue the shrug. When you had no good answer for something, shrugging always seemed like a viable response. "Yeah. I mean, I remember it. I don't know why the fuck you people listened to me, but I remember. Is this where you tell me you think I have some sort of link to the dead, like instead of just bringing them back to life I can like sense when someone's time was up and I'm actually like part grim reaper?"
“No,” David shook his head, resisting the urge to smack the girl on the head. “Although considering your first manifestation, I wouldn’t dismiss that possibility out right.” Then, because he just knew that she would have a retort for that, he hastily soldiered on. “What I was implying, however, is that you have some kind of...” Here, the man visibly floundered for the right words.
“I wouldn’t call it precognition, exactly,” he mused, thumbing the fuzzy beginnings of a beard with his free hand as he regarded Layla thoughtfully. “It’s more of a… an instinct? Something more subconscious than actually seeing the future like we can. Rather, it’s like you know what is going to happen but don’t decide what to do until seconds before you have to.” And then there was that somewhat blank look in her eyes when she did, as though she had just shut off something in her head and was listening to or being controlled by someone else.
"The other Laylas totally know what to do," she told him, as matter-of-fact as if she was telling him the sky was blue. "They put me in that crazy bitch monster Moreau's head. Which was like a fucked up Matrix, dude. Anyway, there were a bunch of other Laylas running around. They were like more spastic than me even. Doctor Grey said she thought I had 'an ability'," Layla wrapped the word in finger quotes, "when she saw the other Laylas and shit. "I didn't think they were like actually from me or some other mutation or something, though. It was all fucked up there, I figured it was just like, I dunno me trying to figure out stuff and trying so hard that my brain spazzed on the astral plane. You think Doctor Grey was right and the other Laylas were, like, me or something and I have mad like instinct skills or something?"
The man was frowning, trying to keep up with her explanation and not being able to fully comprehend it. But he got the gist, and nodded slowly. “You could call it that,” he said slowly, as though needing a thorough taste of each word in his mouth before he let it go. “Maybe. So you were in the astral plane and you saw visions of yourself there, telling you what to do?”
"Kinda. Hm, how do I explain this?" She scratched her chin, nose all scrunched up, as she tried to mull over the possible analogies. "Okay, so picture the roadrunner, you know the cartoon character? And how when he like zooms off he's just a blur but when he stops you realize he's the road runner? Okay, so picture that. And turn him like super bright orange, okay? And then make him Layla. Okay, now you have real Layla," she raised a hand and pointed down at herself from above, "and then all these little road runner Layla streaks like explode outta me. whoosh." Her arms jetted out to her sides in clear demonstration of said whooshing. "And they all go like check shit out. Only I'm standing there going like 'but if we do that this will happen or this will happen or this other thing. But those all suck.' So then I'm like 'Okay but what, like, doesn't suck?' And suddenly new Layla-runner streaks whoosh out! Only like Doug was freaking out or something so like four streaks go to him and they stop and you see they are other Laylas! And they're like staring at him like he's a horse they wanna buy or something. Not that I know what people look for when they buy horses but you get my point. And Maddie was sort of freaking out so another Layla streak stops by her and is like checkin' her out. But not in a gay. Because she's like my girl but in a homegirl way. Anyway, I'm standing there like 'look, those options all suck, I like the one where like these two get all dealt with but we put the smack down on fucked up dude whose head we're in,' right?" She paused, giving North a moment to process her whole explanation. "Only then all those Laylas disappear and this Layla runner streak comes back from this like replicating mutate hole that Meggan said the real Moreau was in and she starts to like try to flag people down. Like she's making all these huge pointy movements," which the real Layla was kind enough to demonstrate for the spy, "to get Ms Frost to go over to Doug and was trying to like push Meggan over there too, only she kept falling through Meg so I think other me is sort of stupid because she kept on trying to push her. Anyway, she was basically trying to like lead people around and once people went to the freaked out people they needed to be with she like led me and Doctor Grey off to deal with fucked up dude."
Layla stopped for breathe, inhaling deeply and then letting the air out all at once in a rush. She seemed to deflate with the exhale and sat there, slouched in her chair. "So that's sort of like how it was on the astral plane the whole time. I mean, other me is kinda a bitch though because she totally got the rug pulled out from under Doc Grey once and she wound up like falling in this water pit but other than that she like behaved and shit and told us what to do and where to go. But it was weird because like I'm sitting there thinking 'okay and then we do this' while she's like trying to show us or whatever. She couldn't talk. Other me's like a mute. And incorporeal."
“Well, then,” David quirked a brow at the winded girl, having somehow followed her enthusiastic explanation, which looked like it should have been accompanied by a soundtrack. “It sounds like you do have an ‘ability’ that does not involve the dead, Miss Miller. It’s not precognition because you don’t know what will happen if you listen to the ‘other’ Layla’s instructions. And if she caused Dr. Grey to fall, then she’s either not always right or she only protects you, so you should be wary of that.”
He put his utensils down and wiped his mouth, a strange look on his face – the kind that meant he was thinking a lot more than he was verbalising – as he regarded the blond. “Was Dr. Grey able to see your alter egos? Now that you’re aware of this power, you should develop it. Learn what triggers it, see if you can consciously control it instead of blanking out and waiting for the other Layla to make up her mind.” He smiled lightly and shifted so that he could stretch his legs out, knee joints cracking as he moved. “You threw my precognition off for a while when we sparred. In fact you threw me over your shoulder when you should not even have been able to touch me. But the moment your rhythm was disrupted, everything else fell apart. That’s not something that you want happening again, ja?”
"Not true. Not about the fighting stuff but about the not knowing thing. I know what's gonna happen. Like, I know what I'm aiming for. I know everything I'm doing is to get to what I want to happen. I just...don't know the inbetween stuff. Do you know the in between stuff when you get, uh...are they visions? Like actual like watching a movie visions?" She shook her head. "Anyway, my point is, I know what will eventually happen. I just dunno what will happen after I do whatever I need to do to get there. Like if there's four steps I know the steps but not why I'm doing them but I know what I find after the last one. Does that make sense?" She wasn't sure it made sense. Hell, she wasn't sure it even made sense to her. "I mean, I dunno. I'm kinda thinking while I talk. Which, okay, maybe not the best plan ever but eventually I figure out my point and sometimes it makes sense to people who aren't me and most of the time it makes sense to people who are me. But some times it makes no sense to anyone. Except maybe my zombies. I've never asked them." Layla, queen of the tangent!
She had a point, right? Maybe she'd made her point somewhere in all that. The girl tilted her head and pursed her lips while she thought. Yes, her point was totally made, but there were other points too! "Yeah, Doctor Grey could see the other Laylas when we were in asshole's head. Everyone could. I mean, like, other Layla totally failed to like push Meggan but Meg could still see her trying. Does it matter if everyone else could see them? I mean, we were on the astral plane or whatever and basically everything is fucked up there. Besides, I make up my mind. Other Layla just shows me how to get there. Like, we think about the situation and we think of what like could happen in the situation and then I'm like 'nah, I want that thing to happen' and then Other Layla is all 'here is your map!' It's like the directions google maps gives you, dude. Like turn here and go this many miles and then veer to the left. Got no fucking clue what it looks like around you but if you do what it says you still get to the awesome Chinese restaurant someone told you about, you know?
"But anyway, no, I don't want someone laying my ass out when the thing in my head like flips off or whatever. But if I fucked up your precognition then maybe it was fucking up my Other Layla and then either way I'm fucked until I learn to fight better. And I'm working on that. Well, I am when Kyle gets back from his trip with Dori. I wanna find other people, too, though. To teach me to fight, I mean. 'Cause I figure more teachers means more styles and techniques and if two people teach me twice a week I learn more faster, right? I just, uh, gotta find someone else still. But I'm working on that!"
If Layla Miller had a third mutant ability, it had to be the amount of words she could propel out of her mouth with the limited air her tiny lungs could inhale. David struggled between annoyance and amusement before he settled for handing her a spoon loaded with more food so that he could talk while she chewed.
“My power can work in several ways. But default-wise, yes, I ‘see’ things happening as though they were a movie played from my perspective,” he paused again, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead, still trying to visualise what the girl was trying to explain to him. “You know what you want to do and the other Layla shows you how to get there. Which is why until you decide on what you want to do to get there, the vision in my head doesn’t run smoothly and it changes every time you change your mind. But for every mind change you make, I can react differently, so confusing the other Layla is a likely possibility.”
And then, just because he could, David resumed speaking just when it seemed like the teenager was going to reply. “I will check in on your progress when I am sure that the good doctor isn’t going to leash me to the bed again or exact retribution on me. I’m sure the mansion is host to many willing teachers in combat. Beyond that, some strength and stamina training would not be remiss.”
"Herr Wuschelig's been teaching me the trapeze since like basically since I got here," Layla informed him when she was sure he was going to let her speak again. "It builds upper body strength like mad. And the training with Yoda's built like arm and shoulder strength. I mean, I guess I could like lift weights or something too. I'm not really like a weights kinda person. That shit is boring." The teenager paused, tilted her head and frowned. "What counts as stamina training? Like running? 'Cause I skate all the time and you need to be in shape to last for long on a board. But, like, I'm down. I like actually doing stuff, you know? I dunno what counts though. I should find someone. Like Yoda but not Yoda since he's all on the road getting his quiet and shit right now."
“Running, swimming, gymnastics. Cardiovascular exercise. Whichever, really. You can even pick up a martial art – those are good for mental training as well, which I suspect you need just as much. Ask around. I’m sure the school has teachers that can set you on a proper training regime,” he shrugged, reclaiming his spoon so he could finish his meal. “If you really can’t find one, then just wait until Yoda returns. Unless you’re really desperate. Then give me call and I’ll see what I can do, although perhaps avoiding this place for a while would be safer for me in the long run so I may have to find a third party proxy to take my place.”
"I try to avoid desperation," Layla told him quite reasonably. "Nothing good ever comes out of desperation tactics, dude. First it's desperation and then it's selling your baby for another crank fix. Not that I'm planning on like taking up a drug habit. So not me. But you know what I mean. I'll find someone. I have mad recruitment skills. And, you know, people actually like me. Well, people who aren't that creepy jackass who likes to like play daddy for people." Layla rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I got this." She grinned but it only lasted for a brief moment. "But, hm, what should I do about the, like, ability thing? Maybe Nico can figure something out. She's been helping me try to get a handle on my zombification shit anyway."
“You might have to experiment a little. See what works, what doesn’t. What Other Layla can and cannot do. How you trigger it. How you control it…” David shrugged. “Powers training is not really my area of expertise except in an observational capacity or unless you’re looking to learn how to wield it around a precog. If Nico can help you then give it a shot. Otherwise, I would go for one of the astral plane users or accessors since Other Layla seems to exist there. Make sense?”
The teenager sighed and flopped back in her chair. "No." The word came out as a bit of a whining complaint. It matched the pout on her face pretty well, though. "People are all 'experiment' like that actually means anything. I don't even know when that shit is working or not. I like just barely figured out how to sorta sense when I'm raising road kill from the dead. Which, dude, by the way? If you see rodents and shit around here who look totally wrong and not just because they're rodents? Take their heads off. Mini zombies keep like springing up like it's Dawn of the fucking Dead." Which probably was supposed to be a giant, glaring, blinking, annoyingly pink neon sign to Layla. But she was busy ignoring it. Signs suck. "Like, we don't know what my thing is. What Other Layla is or what she does. How did you figure out your visions shit? I mean I guess it's sorta easier because you have actual like visions so not really comparable." She was frowning again.
After a couple seconds of sulking Layla sprang up. "Whatever. I will find someone to make sense or something. 'Cause I think your drugs ate holes in your brain 'cause you're all useful but not. The useful parts got eaten away. You know drugs do that, right? One day a little zombie worm is gonna crawl in your ear and like find a home in there." She nodded like she totally knew what she was talking about and it was all totally feasible. "Anyway, you probably need to, I dunno, do shit before they release you on like the unsuspecting public and shit, right?"
“Probably,” David agreed, and stacked the plates and utensils on the tray before covering it for Layla. He had not had to figure out his visions – other people figured it out for him. And then all he could do after that was work around the parameters they had set for him with logic, mediation, sheer will and a lot of trial and error. Of course, experimentation had led him to where he was now, so it probably did not always work out right. So on that count, David didn’t doubt that Layla would be able to find better and more appropriate teachers, and he settled comfortably into being useless. “Thank you for the food, kleiner Teufel. It’s been the highlight of my stay.”
Layla winked at the name and picked up the tray of dishes. "I am a glaringly bright spot against the darkness, damn it!" She grinned and spun on her heel, holding one hand up in something of a wave. "Später, Herr Krieger. Remember, just say no to drugs! And if you land your ass in here again I am totally petitioning you for a liquid diet with that nasty ass tube up your nose," she called brightly. Layla stopped at the door to turn and smile at the man. "Oh, and thanks for saving my ass, by the way. Like, repeatedly. I figured it was implied with the feeding, but, you know, your judgement might be questionable so I figured I should spell it out for you." Her tone kept up that chipper, cheerful note, making light of her accusation regarding his judgement and the implication of his drug overdose that came with it.
Without waiting for a response, the teenager spun back around and disappeared into the hallway.
After leaving the German Layla decides distraction is in order, but apparently she's not the only one who needs it.
Trying out this whole not joined at the hip thing seemed like a good idea in theory, right? Layla was a little twitchy about letting Sarah out of her sight but she figured it probably wasn't entirely healthy to hole up in her room with her girlfriend and never come out again. It was pleasant, but probably not healthy. That was why she had her board in hand and was heading into the garage so she could swap her wheels out for new ones. New wheels would keep her busy longer because of the sheer novelty of them. Besides, what was the point of new parts if not to rough them up?
When she hopped down the few stairs that led from the house to the garage, though, she realized someone was in there. The doors were open, letting light flood the area, and blues music filled the air. It didn't really strike Layla as garage music, but what did she know? She thought garages should be filled with heavy rock, classic rock or maybe the more rocking types of country. Dropping her board, she hopped on and went rolling down the length of the garage until she came to Sir Socket's Solstice. "Dude, the Almighty VibraSocket is gonna totally fucking kill you for fucking with his car," she told the person who was currently out of sight. "Unless you are SirSocket. In that case, carry on!"
Scott had been entirely focused on his work. He had been running a test on his brakes and exhaust system. It wasn't strictly necessary, after all they had only been gone for a few weeks but the busy work kept his mind busy and off topics he'd rather not deal with right at this moment. He had come down to the garage and put on a blues CD and just lost himself in his work, so it was no surprise that he didn't hear Layla skating down the garage. He had no idea anyone was there until she spoke up next to the car. He shot up in surprise, his head inevitably making contact with bottom of the car resulting in a grunt of pain. He pushed himself out from under the car with an angry glint in his eye until he caught sight of Layla. "Ouch." he said simply rubbing his head, his angry words dying on his lips. "Well it's good to know someone is looking out for my car in my absence."
"Dude, ow," was about all the sympathy he got from the girl, though the words did come with a sympathy cringe. She hopped off her board and kicked the nose up so she could grab it by the front truck before wandering closer to the man. "You should totally work on that whole head-meets-undercarriage thing or whatever. That can't be like good for your brain. I hear brain cells totally die that way. It's like Kamikaze cell! First they're firing away, then they shove you into like metal shit and explode. In your head. It's like legit bad for you." The blonde craned her neck and peered around the car as if that would magically tell her something. "So whatcha doin' other than like murdering your brain cells?"
Scott gestured to the car, "Just...well you know. Keeping busy," he admitted wiping his hands on a rag and pushing himself up off the ground. "My car needed some tests...you know make sure it's running ok." He knew that sounded lame but it was easier than talking about the real reason he was hiding here. "The amount of times I've been hit in the head, or any other parts of my body, it's a suprise I have any brain cells left." A weak smile played around Scott's lips. "So what're you doing down here today Layla?"
"Stealing screwdrivers!" she proclaimed with a grin. She reached a hand into one bulging pocket and pulled out a new wheel. "Well, okay so like temporarily stealing. I was gonna change out my wheels for new ones before like taking off and seeing if I can not break my head open for a while." Layla looked so damn proud of herself over that, which probably made no sense to The Socket but that was fine. Layla was happiest on her board or with Sarah so it made total sense to her.
Scott looked at Layla blankly, "Break your head?" He glanced at her skateboard with mistrust in his eyes, "on that?" He shook his head, "How do you trust your life to a piece of wood like that?" he asked with a smile as he tapped the hood of his car. "I'll admit the tricks look kinda good, but there's something relaxing about a car and playing with the engine. And I could do with relaxing after..." Scott's voice trailed off as a sad look passed over his face and he tried to turn away from his thoughts. He reached over to his tool case and pulled out a few screwdrivers offering them to Layla wordlessly.
"Thanks," she chirped brightly, in clear defiance of his mopey mood, and took the screwdriver that was the size she needed. The teenager dropped to the ground and started working to remove the wheels that were currently on. "And I don't, for the record, trust my life to my board. I trust it to me. 'Cause like I'm the one controlling it. And I'll either crash and burn or pull off something epic and awesome because I did, not because it did. I mean, if you want sturdy I have this bad ass board Korvus made me for Christmas. But it's too heavy to really get good air for tricks so it's not coming out to play today. But it's decent as like mode of transportation and shit, you know?" Layla laid the screws down in a pile as she pulled them out. "I bet Solstice is bad ass on like empty, windy back roads, huh?"
"It gets around," he admitted as he dropped the rest of the screwdrivers into the toolbox and walked around the car to examine the wheels. Unconsciously his smile started to show again as his thoughts focused on his car, and more particularly eking out every little bit of speed. "I can understand trusting yourself, the adrenaline rush of racing or pulling off some 'air' is addictive isn't it?" He glanced down at the teenager as she knelt over her board intent on her improvements and laughed to himself at the similarity with himself working on his car as he knelt down and pulled over the air pump to top up one of the tires on his car. "You really like skateboarding don't you?" he asked, "How good are you really?"
She shrugged. "I'm pretty good. I probably can't like get into the X-games but for random chick on the street I'm better than most. I spent most of my time in the skate parks when I was in the Bronx and Brooklyn and the city. Don't get me wrong, my foster homes were fine or whatever. They weren't like abusive horrible people or anything. But it's still not, like, a home. Not really. So I didn't really stick around the houses if I could help it. Woke up, skated, went to school, skated, came home for dinner, skated, came back and crashed. Did it all the next day again. And when there was snow out or ice I just switched it up and went to the indoor parks. I like the outdoor ones better but what can ya do? If there be ice you be inside or in the hospital. Hospitals suck for obvious reasons and broken bones can seriously kill your ability to do like anything so..." She shrugged again and looked up at Scott. "I know a bunch of tricks, I've never gotten hospitalized and I can totally fucking slaughter a half pipe. So, you know, I'm pretty good."
Scott nodded as he turned back to his car, "Broken bones aren't nice, at least you managed to avoid ending up the the hospital." He looked up in concern as he spoke, the adult had no idea that a hospital stay was a possibility involved with skateboarding. Perhaps it was more dangerous that he had previously anticipated. "So you pretty much lived for skating before you got here? It's good to have a hobby, and if it gets you outside so much the better." Standing up Scott flipped open the hood of the car and started down the checklist of tests he was following in his head. "Would you like to try competing in a tournament? Maybe not he X-games but something smaller? Just to test yourself or for fun?" he asked off handedly as he struggled with an extra tight cap. "Gaah, Layla could you pass me rounding thing...the wrench?" he asked his hand making a aimless circular gesture in her direction as he spoke.
"Which fucking wrench? Rounding thing is really, really not useful, dude." She got up anyway and started looking around. Layla was in absolutely not convinced she would figure out which one he meant, but hey miracles happened! "And yeah, I lived for skating. And I mostly still do. I just have, uh, other distractions too. Like, you know, Sarah." If it had ever been unknown that the girls were dating it definitely wasn't after Layla had sought the other girl out and kissed her in front of everyone once Moreau had been taken down. "So basically, like, skating and Sarah. Yeah that's kinda accurate." She picked up a large-ish wrench and held it up. "This one?"
"The big one," Scott replied peeking his head out from under the hood, "Yep that' one'll do," he told the blonde, taking the offered wrench and burrowing his head back into the inner workings of the car. "Well those are pretty good ways to spend your time. As long as you don't forget school and homework," he flashed a grin at Layla before twisting the wrench one last time and closing the hood of his car. "And done!" He turned to look at Layla with a concerned expression, "How is Sarah? I haven't really seen her for well days now."
"She's alright." Though Layla wasn't as bright, cheerful or confident in saying that as she had been up until now. "I mean, she's okay, but she's sort of, I dunno. She's worried about what she did. If she hurt people. Even though it wasn't hurt, not really, and everyone knows that. And she misses her hair." Some of Layla's characteristic personality crept back into her expression as her eyes shifted about from side to side. "I don't think she appreciates my total acceptance of her fuzzy-headedness. Or me fuzzing her head." More shifty eyes. "All the time."
"Fuzzy-headedness?" Scott asked with a smile as he leaned on the hood of his car. "She probably appreciates it more than she lets on." He gestured to his fake eye, "Sometimes it just takes a while for people to get used to major changes. It's hard to let people see that, especially those closest to us, you don't want to appear too weak to them. It helps to know that there are people who care for you." Scott looked over at Layla, "She went through a lot in Genosha, but she's a strong one. Sarah will be ok."
"I know she will." It was clear from her tone that Layla was worried about her. It was hard for her to keep up the cheerful exterior when Sarah was the topic. Because Sarah was her weak point. "I totally thought of drawing hearts on her head with sharpies but I didn't think she'd like really appreciate the total show of like affection and acceptance that it was. She'd just shower a lot. Well, a lot more. It's like people need a brillo pad to get like the grossness of Genosha off them. But I don't think like soap or exfoliating all their skin off is like gonna do it, y'know?"
Scott looked at Layla with amazement before a grin slowly started to spread across his face, "Sharpie hearts....you wouldn't have. No wait I take that back, you obviously would." His sense of decorum battled with his amusement at the idea of anyone walking around with hearts drawn on their head. "I'm sure she'd appreciate the sentiment eventually. you know when she got over the fact that you'd been using her as a drawing board. Two weeks without showers is quite a while, I can't blame anyone for wanting to spend all day in the shower, besides dealing with Moreau left everyone feeling dirty inside, and sadly no-one's yet invented a brillo pad for the soul. Gotta make do with trying to scrub away all traces of Genosha or you know" he gestured around the garage, "hiding from the world."
"You're not supposed to admit that you're hiding," Layla pointed out as she fell back down to the floor to continue the work on her board. "I mean, dude once you admit you're hiding then you get questions, people try to get you to un-hide, then they wanna talk about things. Just make what you're doing sound like really important or urgent or something. And then people don't question it as much. Or, like, hide where there are no people to find you. Instant success!" She threw her arms up in the air to go with her instant success point. Then she went right back to work without ever having looked up from the wheels and trucks that consumed her focus. "You should get outta the house, dude. And not like the garage but like outside the fence. Here's the garage," she put down the wheel she had just pulled off. "Here's the fence," she drew an invisible line with her finger. "And here should be you," Layla picked up a screw and "drove" it far outside of the fence. "It's good for the soul. Or something."
"Only if I admit it to them," Scott pointed out, "And I won't tell anyone if you don't. Besides is there really anywhere in the mansion where no-one is going to stumble across you?" he asked with a laugh. "Everywhere you go someone is going to find you, sometimes the mansion just doesn't feel big enough. Where would you suggest I hide so no-one can find me?" he asked curiously. "Being outside is good for the soul, hence putting new wheels on your skateboard then? Besides, I can't go anywhere out there until I'm sure my car won't break down. Fixing a car on the roadside is never as much fun as fixing it in the garage with all the right tools and parts. Breaking down always ruins the thrill of taking her out for a spin."
"There's like a bajillion acres of woods," she exclaimed, arms thrown up in the air. "And you don't have to take a car just to get out. And like, okay, fine you're totally obsessed about Solstice and she's sexy so I get that but there's like other cars too. Oooooor you can just, like, go run away after you fix it, I guess. I mean, it takes way more time but you're kinda old so I guess I can forgive you for that. You know, old people aren't really up for being all spontaneous and shit. And they have all this patience because they're old and they don't move as fast as they used to. So, you know, whatever. Just know...I'm onto you." She raised a hand, index and middle finger pointed to her eyes, then switched it around so they were pointing at Scott's. "And I won't tell but I will totally find a taser to shock you out of your emo. Because I care."
Scott's jaw dropped as he stared at Layla, she never failed to come up with something to surprise him. "Old? You think I'm old and slow do you? I bet you I could run circles around you, thank you very much." He shook his head in mock disgust as he started to pack his tools away, "Why would I want to use any other car apart from My Solstice?" came the rhetorical question, "None of them are anywhere near as fast. And lets be honest, what's the point of driving a car if it doesn't go fast. Speaking of which, I seem to recall someone spontaneously being allowed to drive it after her driving test," he teased before cocking his head to look at Layla. "You'd taser me out of my emo? You know that's almost sweet...in a weird kinda way."
"It's totally sweet!" she came back with gusto. Layla rubbed a spot approximately where her heart was. "I have a spot for you. Right here. But not if you're emo. You totally give up all rights to the spot and you end up on the bottom of my little toe. And who wants that spot? It's dark. It's cramped. You get flattened all the time. You freeze your ass off every night. Pfft." She made a dismissive gesture. "I'm totally willing to taser you so you can keep your prime real estate, here! And you're totally old. It's cute that you think you're not, but I am here to reality check you, VibraSocket. You be old. Not like ancient levels of old but I'm pretty damn sure I can beat you in a race and it would just be sad to watch. Really. I mean, you can't like let people see you like that. Aren't you supposed to be some sort of leader of superheroes? Do you know how much cred you lose for being so old you totally lose a race to a kid? I mean, my legs are like half my height here so it's practically an unfair advantage but still. You'd lose. So badly. Soooo badly." She was mostly talking out of her ass here, but it seemed to be distracting him so she figured she would just run with it.
Scott laughed as he looked down at Layla, "Why Miss Miller, that almost sounds like a challenge," he teased. "Are you sure you want me to embarrass you in front of your friends like that? I'm just worried that'd your ego will never recover from the humiliation of being defeated by an weak, old man like myself. I'm not sure how you'd ever show your face around the mansion again after all this trash talking. Not that you do really show your face around anymore these days anyway." Picking up his toolbox Scott deposited it in storage before turning back to Layla while wiping his hands on a rag. "Being trapped in your little toe doesn't sound fun at all," he grinned, "I wouldn't wanna be demoted down there, or well shocked for that matter."
"It sounds like you want it to be a challenge. And you know, I can totally do that. You name the time and place for your Great Defeat and I will show up. And I'll even try to make it not entirely embarrassing for you so you can save some face. I mean, you won't save much but you gotta try to maintain something, right?" Layla laughed. "And you totally overestimate how much I care about losing to old people. I can always say that I let you win out of like respect for my elders. What's your excuse gonna be when you lose?" Not to mention Layla's complete and utter willingness to make a fool out of herself and look stupid to make other people smile. So far that tactic was totally working on the Almighty Socket.
"An excuse? You mean something like 'I wanted to help build up her self confidence and what better way than to be able to beat a teacher.' Not that I envisage any reason to break out the excuse since I don't intend to loose." He glanced at the line in the dirt Layla had previously drawn, perhaps it would be a good idea for him to get out of the garage and away from the grounds. "You almost done with your skateboard there?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I just gotta throw the new wheels on." She'd kept working but now he was distracting her so Layla was slowing down. Man, she used to have parts swapping down to like military precision and quickness! "Why, you lookin' to lose the race right now? "Cause I don't think jeans and a skirt are like running clothes, dude." She tugged the hem of her short denim skirt, pulling it out from her side and showing how little give it had. "Like I can skate in it but running seems probably like a worse idea."
"Well, I'm obviously going to need all the advantages I can get in this race," Scott pointed out, "beside if you're going to go around tossing out challenges to teachers left right and center you really need to be ready to deal with the consequences." He grinned wickedly before continuing, "I was actually thinking you're right, I really should get outta here and get some fresh air." The teacher nodded at his car, "I was going to take her out for a spin and was wondering if you'd like a lift out to a skate park."
Her totally valid - or so she thought - point about how der augenhöhle was a teacher but not her teacher died pretty quickly when he mentioned giving her ride out to a skate park. Instead of continuing her banter her eyes went wide. "Seriously? That would be bad ass, but I don't know any parks outside of like the five boroughs. Which, you know, is fine by me. Wait, are you gonna make me take a train back? "Cause that's like fine but I need to go get like ID and money if I need to do that." Which, you know, she didn't assume he would make her do that but it was better to cover her bases.
"I don't see why I can't pick you up after," Scott decided. "All I really want is to get out of the mansion. Besides if I'm taking you out and picking you up then you won't have to keep checking in with the mansion to let us know you're ok and can focus on the skating," he pointed out with an amused smile.
"You mean you don't want me to faceplant while texting in and trying to pull off like a one-eighty kickflip? Aw, you do care!" She wiped a fake tear away and tightened a screw on the next to last wheel that needed to go on. "I should probably tell Herr Wuschelig 'cause he totally thinks I'm gonna be in town. I can do that in the car though."
"Well Sarah probably wouldn't be too happy with me if I let anything happen to you," Scott replied with a grin. "Yeah let Kurt know that I'll be talking you out. We don't want a full team of X-men showing up at the skate park when he doesn't hear from you after all."
Layla gave him a salute, set down the screwdriver and fished her phone out of her pocket. Mit der Augenhohle. sein spater wieder*, was sent off to Kurt and then Layla was back to work on her last wheel. Once everything was on and she had tested to make sure all parts were secure, she popped up and held the screwdriver out to Sir Socket. "Sarah would throw down, not even gonna lie. But Herr Wuschelig knows and now if I mysteriously turn up singing to a beaver or something it'll all be your fault," she grinned.
"You'd...sing to a beaver? Why?" Scott asked lost somewhere between confusion and amusement, a state which he seemed to be falling into more and more when conversing with Layla. "Between Sarah throwing down with me and you humiliating me in a race it's a wonder I have any dignity or self respect left." As he spoke Scott dropped the screwdriver into the boot of his car and walked around to hold the door open for Layla. "After you," he said courteously. Perhaps they'd have a hot dog vendor near the skate park, he thought, something for him to eat while he kept an eye out for singing beavers.
The knock on the door frame was a rapid series of quickfire sounds that were immediately followed by the bright smile of a teenage girl. "Herr Fremde," Layla saluted before coming in without waiting for an invitation. She bore a plate complete with a cover that she swore only existed in movies and TV shows when people got room service but apparently they existed for real and the mansion had them. She'd just found those yesterday so this was only the second day of surprise unveiling potential. Not that it was much of a surprise when Layla laid the plate down on the table next to David North's medlab bed and informed him, "I come bearing spaetzle and sauerbraten!"
The cover was lifted to reveal just that and David smiled at the teenager in appreciation as the aroma of freshly cooked meat filled the room. His stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, reminding him that he had unwisely decided to have only tea and toast for breakfast. “I think said this yesterday, but you really are going to make me fat, Miss Miller,” the mansion's resident invalid commented as he put away the laptop he had been working from, cracking his back as he crossed his legs Indian style. “Looks excellent, as always. I'm beginning to suspect that you are part German.”
"Nope, just like standard issue mutt." She dragged a chair over closer to him and folded a leg under her as she sat down. Layla didn't generally stay for long but she figured her being a weirdo was at least something different from the monotony of laying in bed all. day. long. All day every day. Dude, Layla had so been there. And usually way worse off than he was. It got boring being laid up and by yourself. "And don't you have to be like not under weight to get fat, dude? I hear you're like legit scrawny and in dire need of fattening. So I'm contributing. 'Cause I totally fatten like really well. It's like a gift!"
Forking a spaetzle and popping the dumpling in his mouth, David settled for answering her with a pleased noise as he chewed and swallowed, following it with a spoonful of the sauerbraten. He raised a second spoonful at her in a mock salute.
“Might be the last meal you bring down here for me, though.”
This immediately brought the most offended, affronted expression Layla had in her arsenal to the fore. It was a little overly done but, hey, she was nothing if not facially dramatic. "Have you replaced me? It's not my fault most of what I can make is Bavarian! I swear, it's just that it's the Bavarian is teaching me to make stuff! I can do better! Don't fire me!" She even threw in a steadily wibbling lower lip for even more drama. With her leaning so far forward the whitening knuckles really had more to do with needing the grip on the chair's arms so she didn't fall over than anything.
Placing a palm against Layla’s forehead, the German man unceremoniously pushed the girl back into her seat, expression bland as he held out a spaetzle-on-a-fork for her to eat. Obviously, he had gotten used to her antics in the week she had been feeding him and she seemed as unperturbed as ever by his blunt but patient ways.
“Last meal you bring down here for me,” he repeated slowly, before quirking a small smile at the hyperactive blond. “I don’t intend to be here tomorrow.”
Layla took the offered spaetzle and stared at him as she chewed. She tried to make the expression as much a suggestion that he had four heads as possible. "Are you breaking out?" she eventually asked in a stage whisper. "'Cause the really mean lady doctor has ways and she will lay you the fuck out if she catches you. You're going to need supplies. I can get you a paperclip and a fork but you're on your own for the rest."
Expression serious, David leaned forward to inform her in a hushed tone: “There’s a reason Adrienne calls me Ninja, Miss Miller.” Then he sat back and fed himself another spoonful of food.
“I’m trusting you to keep my secrets to yourself, of course,” he added, almost belatedly but with his usual half-smile back in place. “And you may name a price for your paperclip, fork and silence. Within reason.”
"I'm guessing a pony is way out of reason?" Layla grinned. "Like I would know what to do with a pony. Hello, city girl here. I guess I kinda owe you so the paperclip, fork and silence are payback, pre-paid with keeping my ass alive and shit, you know?" Though maybe she should have asked for cake. "So, I guess if you're springing yourself you're like better-ish, right? So does that mean if I ask why you told me we needed to have a chat if we both lived you'll tell me?"
“Well, I’m not quaking myself off the bed anymore,” David pointed out, referring to one of her first comments to seeing him in withdrawal. “So yes, I’ll tell you.” He would have told her a week ago if she had asked, actually. But the little chattermouth was being polite, it seemed.
Elbow resting on her knee, Layla propped her chin in her hand and looked at the man as if he was going to tell her the most fascinating story ever. "Okay, then, how come you said I had to talk to you?"
“How long did you say you’ve been learning to fight for?” the spy asked, by way of a preamble.
"Uh...like technically like six months? Seven months? I think Kyle started training me in like November? But then I was like all roadkillified for like six weeks the first time and then I was roadkillified for like two months, maybe even a little longer, the second time. So I guess realistically like three-ish months?" This time staring at the German like he had three heads was much more sincere. "Why? What's that got to do with anything? Like, I know I'm totally useless in a fight. Like I can hit people with skateboards and break noses with punches but like, yeah, that's like the extent of my mad skills. Okay, I mean, not the whole extent, obviously, since Kyle's been teaching me stuff and then I learned how to do leg sweeps and that arm chop thingum from you."
“You’re not useless in a fight,” the precog told her bluntly. “Do you remember how many blows we traded during that spar? I wasn’t really holding back.” Much.
"I...kinda remember?" Layla rubbed the back of her head, thinking it over. "It's a little blurry. Hell, most of that shit is. I think the like mind numbing panic and doom sort of made shit bleed together. Anyway, I'm a lot more useless than people that can like hit you with lightning or shoot beam things out of their eye. Or, fuck dude, Molly is more useful in a fight and she's thirteen but all like indestructible and shit." The teenager shrugged. "But okay, let's say I'm not totally useless in a fight. So what?"
David ignored the question, as he chewed and swallowed, offering the girl a spoonful of sauerbraten as though feeding her was the most natural thing in the world to do. “Do you also remember how you told me who to shoot and where to shoot on the battlefield? And how you knew someone was going to shoot Adrienne before I did? And how you basically had Adrienne following your orders while she was the one holding a rocket launcher in her hands?”
And cue the shrug. When you had no good answer for something, shrugging always seemed like a viable response. "Yeah. I mean, I remember it. I don't know why the fuck you people listened to me, but I remember. Is this where you tell me you think I have some sort of link to the dead, like instead of just bringing them back to life I can like sense when someone's time was up and I'm actually like part grim reaper?"
“No,” David shook his head, resisting the urge to smack the girl on the head. “Although considering your first manifestation, I wouldn’t dismiss that possibility out right.” Then, because he just knew that she would have a retort for that, he hastily soldiered on. “What I was implying, however, is that you have some kind of...” Here, the man visibly floundered for the right words.
“I wouldn’t call it precognition, exactly,” he mused, thumbing the fuzzy beginnings of a beard with his free hand as he regarded Layla thoughtfully. “It’s more of a… an instinct? Something more subconscious than actually seeing the future like we can. Rather, it’s like you know what is going to happen but don’t decide what to do until seconds before you have to.” And then there was that somewhat blank look in her eyes when she did, as though she had just shut off something in her head and was listening to or being controlled by someone else.
"The other Laylas totally know what to do," she told him, as matter-of-fact as if she was telling him the sky was blue. "They put me in that crazy bitch monster Moreau's head. Which was like a fucked up Matrix, dude. Anyway, there were a bunch of other Laylas running around. They were like more spastic than me even. Doctor Grey said she thought I had 'an ability'," Layla wrapped the word in finger quotes, "when she saw the other Laylas and shit. "I didn't think they were like actually from me or some other mutation or something, though. It was all fucked up there, I figured it was just like, I dunno me trying to figure out stuff and trying so hard that my brain spazzed on the astral plane. You think Doctor Grey was right and the other Laylas were, like, me or something and I have mad like instinct skills or something?"
The man was frowning, trying to keep up with her explanation and not being able to fully comprehend it. But he got the gist, and nodded slowly. “You could call it that,” he said slowly, as though needing a thorough taste of each word in his mouth before he let it go. “Maybe. So you were in the astral plane and you saw visions of yourself there, telling you what to do?”
"Kinda. Hm, how do I explain this?" She scratched her chin, nose all scrunched up, as she tried to mull over the possible analogies. "Okay, so picture the roadrunner, you know the cartoon character? And how when he like zooms off he's just a blur but when he stops you realize he's the road runner? Okay, so picture that. And turn him like super bright orange, okay? And then make him Layla. Okay, now you have real Layla," she raised a hand and pointed down at herself from above, "and then all these little road runner Layla streaks like explode outta me. whoosh." Her arms jetted out to her sides in clear demonstration of said whooshing. "And they all go like check shit out. Only I'm standing there going like 'but if we do that this will happen or this will happen or this other thing. But those all suck.' So then I'm like 'Okay but what, like, doesn't suck?' And suddenly new Layla-runner streaks whoosh out! Only like Doug was freaking out or something so like four streaks go to him and they stop and you see they are other Laylas! And they're like staring at him like he's a horse they wanna buy or something. Not that I know what people look for when they buy horses but you get my point. And Maddie was sort of freaking out so another Layla streak stops by her and is like checkin' her out. But not in a gay. Because she's like my girl but in a homegirl way. Anyway, I'm standing there like 'look, those options all suck, I like the one where like these two get all dealt with but we put the smack down on fucked up dude whose head we're in,' right?" She paused, giving North a moment to process her whole explanation. "Only then all those Laylas disappear and this Layla runner streak comes back from this like replicating mutate hole that Meggan said the real Moreau was in and she starts to like try to flag people down. Like she's making all these huge pointy movements," which the real Layla was kind enough to demonstrate for the spy, "to get Ms Frost to go over to Doug and was trying to like push Meggan over there too, only she kept falling through Meg so I think other me is sort of stupid because she kept on trying to push her. Anyway, she was basically trying to like lead people around and once people went to the freaked out people they needed to be with she like led me and Doctor Grey off to deal with fucked up dude."
Layla stopped for breathe, inhaling deeply and then letting the air out all at once in a rush. She seemed to deflate with the exhale and sat there, slouched in her chair. "So that's sort of like how it was on the astral plane the whole time. I mean, other me is kinda a bitch though because she totally got the rug pulled out from under Doc Grey once and she wound up like falling in this water pit but other than that she like behaved and shit and told us what to do and where to go. But it was weird because like I'm sitting there thinking 'okay and then we do this' while she's like trying to show us or whatever. She couldn't talk. Other me's like a mute. And incorporeal."
“Well, then,” David quirked a brow at the winded girl, having somehow followed her enthusiastic explanation, which looked like it should have been accompanied by a soundtrack. “It sounds like you do have an ‘ability’ that does not involve the dead, Miss Miller. It’s not precognition because you don’t know what will happen if you listen to the ‘other’ Layla’s instructions. And if she caused Dr. Grey to fall, then she’s either not always right or she only protects you, so you should be wary of that.”
He put his utensils down and wiped his mouth, a strange look on his face – the kind that meant he was thinking a lot more than he was verbalising – as he regarded the blond. “Was Dr. Grey able to see your alter egos? Now that you’re aware of this power, you should develop it. Learn what triggers it, see if you can consciously control it instead of blanking out and waiting for the other Layla to make up her mind.” He smiled lightly and shifted so that he could stretch his legs out, knee joints cracking as he moved. “You threw my precognition off for a while when we sparred. In fact you threw me over your shoulder when you should not even have been able to touch me. But the moment your rhythm was disrupted, everything else fell apart. That’s not something that you want happening again, ja?”
"Not true. Not about the fighting stuff but about the not knowing thing. I know what's gonna happen. Like, I know what I'm aiming for. I know everything I'm doing is to get to what I want to happen. I just...don't know the inbetween stuff. Do you know the in between stuff when you get, uh...are they visions? Like actual like watching a movie visions?" She shook her head. "Anyway, my point is, I know what will eventually happen. I just dunno what will happen after I do whatever I need to do to get there. Like if there's four steps I know the steps but not why I'm doing them but I know what I find after the last one. Does that make sense?" She wasn't sure it made sense. Hell, she wasn't sure it even made sense to her. "I mean, I dunno. I'm kinda thinking while I talk. Which, okay, maybe not the best plan ever but eventually I figure out my point and sometimes it makes sense to people who aren't me and most of the time it makes sense to people who are me. But some times it makes no sense to anyone. Except maybe my zombies. I've never asked them." Layla, queen of the tangent!
She had a point, right? Maybe she'd made her point somewhere in all that. The girl tilted her head and pursed her lips while she thought. Yes, her point was totally made, but there were other points too! "Yeah, Doctor Grey could see the other Laylas when we were in asshole's head. Everyone could. I mean, like, other Layla totally failed to like push Meggan but Meg could still see her trying. Does it matter if everyone else could see them? I mean, we were on the astral plane or whatever and basically everything is fucked up there. Besides, I make up my mind. Other Layla just shows me how to get there. Like, we think about the situation and we think of what like could happen in the situation and then I'm like 'nah, I want that thing to happen' and then Other Layla is all 'here is your map!' It's like the directions google maps gives you, dude. Like turn here and go this many miles and then veer to the left. Got no fucking clue what it looks like around you but if you do what it says you still get to the awesome Chinese restaurant someone told you about, you know?
"But anyway, no, I don't want someone laying my ass out when the thing in my head like flips off or whatever. But if I fucked up your precognition then maybe it was fucking up my Other Layla and then either way I'm fucked until I learn to fight better. And I'm working on that. Well, I am when Kyle gets back from his trip with Dori. I wanna find other people, too, though. To teach me to fight, I mean. 'Cause I figure more teachers means more styles and techniques and if two people teach me twice a week I learn more faster, right? I just, uh, gotta find someone else still. But I'm working on that!"
If Layla Miller had a third mutant ability, it had to be the amount of words she could propel out of her mouth with the limited air her tiny lungs could inhale. David struggled between annoyance and amusement before he settled for handing her a spoon loaded with more food so that he could talk while she chewed.
“My power can work in several ways. But default-wise, yes, I ‘see’ things happening as though they were a movie played from my perspective,” he paused again, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead, still trying to visualise what the girl was trying to explain to him. “You know what you want to do and the other Layla shows you how to get there. Which is why until you decide on what you want to do to get there, the vision in my head doesn’t run smoothly and it changes every time you change your mind. But for every mind change you make, I can react differently, so confusing the other Layla is a likely possibility.”
And then, just because he could, David resumed speaking just when it seemed like the teenager was going to reply. “I will check in on your progress when I am sure that the good doctor isn’t going to leash me to the bed again or exact retribution on me. I’m sure the mansion is host to many willing teachers in combat. Beyond that, some strength and stamina training would not be remiss.”
"Herr Wuschelig's been teaching me the trapeze since like basically since I got here," Layla informed him when she was sure he was going to let her speak again. "It builds upper body strength like mad. And the training with Yoda's built like arm and shoulder strength. I mean, I guess I could like lift weights or something too. I'm not really like a weights kinda person. That shit is boring." The teenager paused, tilted her head and frowned. "What counts as stamina training? Like running? 'Cause I skate all the time and you need to be in shape to last for long on a board. But, like, I'm down. I like actually doing stuff, you know? I dunno what counts though. I should find someone. Like Yoda but not Yoda since he's all on the road getting his quiet and shit right now."
“Running, swimming, gymnastics. Cardiovascular exercise. Whichever, really. You can even pick up a martial art – those are good for mental training as well, which I suspect you need just as much. Ask around. I’m sure the school has teachers that can set you on a proper training regime,” he shrugged, reclaiming his spoon so he could finish his meal. “If you really can’t find one, then just wait until Yoda returns. Unless you’re really desperate. Then give me call and I’ll see what I can do, although perhaps avoiding this place for a while would be safer for me in the long run so I may have to find a third party proxy to take my place.”
"I try to avoid desperation," Layla told him quite reasonably. "Nothing good ever comes out of desperation tactics, dude. First it's desperation and then it's selling your baby for another crank fix. Not that I'm planning on like taking up a drug habit. So not me. But you know what I mean. I'll find someone. I have mad recruitment skills. And, you know, people actually like me. Well, people who aren't that creepy jackass who likes to like play daddy for people." Layla rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I got this." She grinned but it only lasted for a brief moment. "But, hm, what should I do about the, like, ability thing? Maybe Nico can figure something out. She's been helping me try to get a handle on my zombification shit anyway."
“You might have to experiment a little. See what works, what doesn’t. What Other Layla can and cannot do. How you trigger it. How you control it…” David shrugged. “Powers training is not really my area of expertise except in an observational capacity or unless you’re looking to learn how to wield it around a precog. If Nico can help you then give it a shot. Otherwise, I would go for one of the astral plane users or accessors since Other Layla seems to exist there. Make sense?”
The teenager sighed and flopped back in her chair. "No." The word came out as a bit of a whining complaint. It matched the pout on her face pretty well, though. "People are all 'experiment' like that actually means anything. I don't even know when that shit is working or not. I like just barely figured out how to sorta sense when I'm raising road kill from the dead. Which, dude, by the way? If you see rodents and shit around here who look totally wrong and not just because they're rodents? Take their heads off. Mini zombies keep like springing up like it's Dawn of the fucking Dead." Which probably was supposed to be a giant, glaring, blinking, annoyingly pink neon sign to Layla. But she was busy ignoring it. Signs suck. "Like, we don't know what my thing is. What Other Layla is or what she does. How did you figure out your visions shit? I mean I guess it's sorta easier because you have actual like visions so not really comparable." She was frowning again.
After a couple seconds of sulking Layla sprang up. "Whatever. I will find someone to make sense or something. 'Cause I think your drugs ate holes in your brain 'cause you're all useful but not. The useful parts got eaten away. You know drugs do that, right? One day a little zombie worm is gonna crawl in your ear and like find a home in there." She nodded like she totally knew what she was talking about and it was all totally feasible. "Anyway, you probably need to, I dunno, do shit before they release you on like the unsuspecting public and shit, right?"
“Probably,” David agreed, and stacked the plates and utensils on the tray before covering it for Layla. He had not had to figure out his visions – other people figured it out for him. And then all he could do after that was work around the parameters they had set for him with logic, mediation, sheer will and a lot of trial and error. Of course, experimentation had led him to where he was now, so it probably did not always work out right. So on that count, David didn’t doubt that Layla would be able to find better and more appropriate teachers, and he settled comfortably into being useless. “Thank you for the food, kleiner Teufel. It’s been the highlight of my stay.”
Layla winked at the name and picked up the tray of dishes. "I am a glaringly bright spot against the darkness, damn it!" She grinned and spun on her heel, holding one hand up in something of a wave. "Später, Herr Krieger. Remember, just say no to drugs! And if you land your ass in here again I am totally petitioning you for a liquid diet with that nasty ass tube up your nose," she called brightly. Layla stopped at the door to turn and smile at the man. "Oh, and thanks for saving my ass, by the way. Like, repeatedly. I figured it was implied with the feeding, but, you know, your judgement might be questionable so I figured I should spell it out for you." Her tone kept up that chipper, cheerful note, making light of her accusation regarding his judgement and the implication of his drug overdose that came with it.
Without waiting for a response, the teenager spun back around and disappeared into the hallway.
After leaving the German Layla decides distraction is in order, but apparently she's not the only one who needs it.
Trying out this whole not joined at the hip thing seemed like a good idea in theory, right? Layla was a little twitchy about letting Sarah out of her sight but she figured it probably wasn't entirely healthy to hole up in her room with her girlfriend and never come out again. It was pleasant, but probably not healthy. That was why she had her board in hand and was heading into the garage so she could swap her wheels out for new ones. New wheels would keep her busy longer because of the sheer novelty of them. Besides, what was the point of new parts if not to rough them up?
When she hopped down the few stairs that led from the house to the garage, though, she realized someone was in there. The doors were open, letting light flood the area, and blues music filled the air. It didn't really strike Layla as garage music, but what did she know? She thought garages should be filled with heavy rock, classic rock or maybe the more rocking types of country. Dropping her board, she hopped on and went rolling down the length of the garage until she came to Sir Socket's Solstice. "Dude, the Almighty VibraSocket is gonna totally fucking kill you for fucking with his car," she told the person who was currently out of sight. "Unless you are SirSocket. In that case, carry on!"
Scott had been entirely focused on his work. He had been running a test on his brakes and exhaust system. It wasn't strictly necessary, after all they had only been gone for a few weeks but the busy work kept his mind busy and off topics he'd rather not deal with right at this moment. He had come down to the garage and put on a blues CD and just lost himself in his work, so it was no surprise that he didn't hear Layla skating down the garage. He had no idea anyone was there until she spoke up next to the car. He shot up in surprise, his head inevitably making contact with bottom of the car resulting in a grunt of pain. He pushed himself out from under the car with an angry glint in his eye until he caught sight of Layla. "Ouch." he said simply rubbing his head, his angry words dying on his lips. "Well it's good to know someone is looking out for my car in my absence."
"Dude, ow," was about all the sympathy he got from the girl, though the words did come with a sympathy cringe. She hopped off her board and kicked the nose up so she could grab it by the front truck before wandering closer to the man. "You should totally work on that whole head-meets-undercarriage thing or whatever. That can't be like good for your brain. I hear brain cells totally die that way. It's like Kamikaze cell! First they're firing away, then they shove you into like metal shit and explode. In your head. It's like legit bad for you." The blonde craned her neck and peered around the car as if that would magically tell her something. "So whatcha doin' other than like murdering your brain cells?"
Scott gestured to the car, "Just...well you know. Keeping busy," he admitted wiping his hands on a rag and pushing himself up off the ground. "My car needed some tests...you know make sure it's running ok." He knew that sounded lame but it was easier than talking about the real reason he was hiding here. "The amount of times I've been hit in the head, or any other parts of my body, it's a suprise I have any brain cells left." A weak smile played around Scott's lips. "So what're you doing down here today Layla?"
"Stealing screwdrivers!" she proclaimed with a grin. She reached a hand into one bulging pocket and pulled out a new wheel. "Well, okay so like temporarily stealing. I was gonna change out my wheels for new ones before like taking off and seeing if I can not break my head open for a while." Layla looked so damn proud of herself over that, which probably made no sense to The Socket but that was fine. Layla was happiest on her board or with Sarah so it made total sense to her.
Scott looked at Layla blankly, "Break your head?" He glanced at her skateboard with mistrust in his eyes, "on that?" He shook his head, "How do you trust your life to a piece of wood like that?" he asked with a smile as he tapped the hood of his car. "I'll admit the tricks look kinda good, but there's something relaxing about a car and playing with the engine. And I could do with relaxing after..." Scott's voice trailed off as a sad look passed over his face and he tried to turn away from his thoughts. He reached over to his tool case and pulled out a few screwdrivers offering them to Layla wordlessly.
"Thanks," she chirped brightly, in clear defiance of his mopey mood, and took the screwdriver that was the size she needed. The teenager dropped to the ground and started working to remove the wheels that were currently on. "And I don't, for the record, trust my life to my board. I trust it to me. 'Cause like I'm the one controlling it. And I'll either crash and burn or pull off something epic and awesome because I did, not because it did. I mean, if you want sturdy I have this bad ass board Korvus made me for Christmas. But it's too heavy to really get good air for tricks so it's not coming out to play today. But it's decent as like mode of transportation and shit, you know?" Layla laid the screws down in a pile as she pulled them out. "I bet Solstice is bad ass on like empty, windy back roads, huh?"
"It gets around," he admitted as he dropped the rest of the screwdrivers into the toolbox and walked around the car to examine the wheels. Unconsciously his smile started to show again as his thoughts focused on his car, and more particularly eking out every little bit of speed. "I can understand trusting yourself, the adrenaline rush of racing or pulling off some 'air' is addictive isn't it?" He glanced down at the teenager as she knelt over her board intent on her improvements and laughed to himself at the similarity with himself working on his car as he knelt down and pulled over the air pump to top up one of the tires on his car. "You really like skateboarding don't you?" he asked, "How good are you really?"
She shrugged. "I'm pretty good. I probably can't like get into the X-games but for random chick on the street I'm better than most. I spent most of my time in the skate parks when I was in the Bronx and Brooklyn and the city. Don't get me wrong, my foster homes were fine or whatever. They weren't like abusive horrible people or anything. But it's still not, like, a home. Not really. So I didn't really stick around the houses if I could help it. Woke up, skated, went to school, skated, came home for dinner, skated, came back and crashed. Did it all the next day again. And when there was snow out or ice I just switched it up and went to the indoor parks. I like the outdoor ones better but what can ya do? If there be ice you be inside or in the hospital. Hospitals suck for obvious reasons and broken bones can seriously kill your ability to do like anything so..." She shrugged again and looked up at Scott. "I know a bunch of tricks, I've never gotten hospitalized and I can totally fucking slaughter a half pipe. So, you know, I'm pretty good."
Scott nodded as he turned back to his car, "Broken bones aren't nice, at least you managed to avoid ending up the the hospital." He looked up in concern as he spoke, the adult had no idea that a hospital stay was a possibility involved with skateboarding. Perhaps it was more dangerous that he had previously anticipated. "So you pretty much lived for skating before you got here? It's good to have a hobby, and if it gets you outside so much the better." Standing up Scott flipped open the hood of the car and started down the checklist of tests he was following in his head. "Would you like to try competing in a tournament? Maybe not he X-games but something smaller? Just to test yourself or for fun?" he asked off handedly as he struggled with an extra tight cap. "Gaah, Layla could you pass me rounding thing...the wrench?" he asked his hand making a aimless circular gesture in her direction as he spoke.
"Which fucking wrench? Rounding thing is really, really not useful, dude." She got up anyway and started looking around. Layla was in absolutely not convinced she would figure out which one he meant, but hey miracles happened! "And yeah, I lived for skating. And I mostly still do. I just have, uh, other distractions too. Like, you know, Sarah." If it had ever been unknown that the girls were dating it definitely wasn't after Layla had sought the other girl out and kissed her in front of everyone once Moreau had been taken down. "So basically, like, skating and Sarah. Yeah that's kinda accurate." She picked up a large-ish wrench and held it up. "This one?"
"The big one," Scott replied peeking his head out from under the hood, "Yep that' one'll do," he told the blonde, taking the offered wrench and burrowing his head back into the inner workings of the car. "Well those are pretty good ways to spend your time. As long as you don't forget school and homework," he flashed a grin at Layla before twisting the wrench one last time and closing the hood of his car. "And done!" He turned to look at Layla with a concerned expression, "How is Sarah? I haven't really seen her for well days now."
"She's alright." Though Layla wasn't as bright, cheerful or confident in saying that as she had been up until now. "I mean, she's okay, but she's sort of, I dunno. She's worried about what she did. If she hurt people. Even though it wasn't hurt, not really, and everyone knows that. And she misses her hair." Some of Layla's characteristic personality crept back into her expression as her eyes shifted about from side to side. "I don't think she appreciates my total acceptance of her fuzzy-headedness. Or me fuzzing her head." More shifty eyes. "All the time."
"Fuzzy-headedness?" Scott asked with a smile as he leaned on the hood of his car. "She probably appreciates it more than she lets on." He gestured to his fake eye, "Sometimes it just takes a while for people to get used to major changes. It's hard to let people see that, especially those closest to us, you don't want to appear too weak to them. It helps to know that there are people who care for you." Scott looked over at Layla, "She went through a lot in Genosha, but she's a strong one. Sarah will be ok."
"I know she will." It was clear from her tone that Layla was worried about her. It was hard for her to keep up the cheerful exterior when Sarah was the topic. Because Sarah was her weak point. "I totally thought of drawing hearts on her head with sharpies but I didn't think she'd like really appreciate the total show of like affection and acceptance that it was. She'd just shower a lot. Well, a lot more. It's like people need a brillo pad to get like the grossness of Genosha off them. But I don't think like soap or exfoliating all their skin off is like gonna do it, y'know?"
Scott looked at Layla with amazement before a grin slowly started to spread across his face, "Sharpie hearts....you wouldn't have. No wait I take that back, you obviously would." His sense of decorum battled with his amusement at the idea of anyone walking around with hearts drawn on their head. "I'm sure she'd appreciate the sentiment eventually. you know when she got over the fact that you'd been using her as a drawing board. Two weeks without showers is quite a while, I can't blame anyone for wanting to spend all day in the shower, besides dealing with Moreau left everyone feeling dirty inside, and sadly no-one's yet invented a brillo pad for the soul. Gotta make do with trying to scrub away all traces of Genosha or you know" he gestured around the garage, "hiding from the world."
"You're not supposed to admit that you're hiding," Layla pointed out as she fell back down to the floor to continue the work on her board. "I mean, dude once you admit you're hiding then you get questions, people try to get you to un-hide, then they wanna talk about things. Just make what you're doing sound like really important or urgent or something. And then people don't question it as much. Or, like, hide where there are no people to find you. Instant success!" She threw her arms up in the air to go with her instant success point. Then she went right back to work without ever having looked up from the wheels and trucks that consumed her focus. "You should get outta the house, dude. And not like the garage but like outside the fence. Here's the garage," she put down the wheel she had just pulled off. "Here's the fence," she drew an invisible line with her finger. "And here should be you," Layla picked up a screw and "drove" it far outside of the fence. "It's good for the soul. Or something."
"Only if I admit it to them," Scott pointed out, "And I won't tell anyone if you don't. Besides is there really anywhere in the mansion where no-one is going to stumble across you?" he asked with a laugh. "Everywhere you go someone is going to find you, sometimes the mansion just doesn't feel big enough. Where would you suggest I hide so no-one can find me?" he asked curiously. "Being outside is good for the soul, hence putting new wheels on your skateboard then? Besides, I can't go anywhere out there until I'm sure my car won't break down. Fixing a car on the roadside is never as much fun as fixing it in the garage with all the right tools and parts. Breaking down always ruins the thrill of taking her out for a spin."
"There's like a bajillion acres of woods," she exclaimed, arms thrown up in the air. "And you don't have to take a car just to get out. And like, okay, fine you're totally obsessed about Solstice and she's sexy so I get that but there's like other cars too. Oooooor you can just, like, go run away after you fix it, I guess. I mean, it takes way more time but you're kinda old so I guess I can forgive you for that. You know, old people aren't really up for being all spontaneous and shit. And they have all this patience because they're old and they don't move as fast as they used to. So, you know, whatever. Just know...I'm onto you." She raised a hand, index and middle finger pointed to her eyes, then switched it around so they were pointing at Scott's. "And I won't tell but I will totally find a taser to shock you out of your emo. Because I care."
Scott's jaw dropped as he stared at Layla, she never failed to come up with something to surprise him. "Old? You think I'm old and slow do you? I bet you I could run circles around you, thank you very much." He shook his head in mock disgust as he started to pack his tools away, "Why would I want to use any other car apart from My Solstice?" came the rhetorical question, "None of them are anywhere near as fast. And lets be honest, what's the point of driving a car if it doesn't go fast. Speaking of which, I seem to recall someone spontaneously being allowed to drive it after her driving test," he teased before cocking his head to look at Layla. "You'd taser me out of my emo? You know that's almost sweet...in a weird kinda way."
"It's totally sweet!" she came back with gusto. Layla rubbed a spot approximately where her heart was. "I have a spot for you. Right here. But not if you're emo. You totally give up all rights to the spot and you end up on the bottom of my little toe. And who wants that spot? It's dark. It's cramped. You get flattened all the time. You freeze your ass off every night. Pfft." She made a dismissive gesture. "I'm totally willing to taser you so you can keep your prime real estate, here! And you're totally old. It's cute that you think you're not, but I am here to reality check you, VibraSocket. You be old. Not like ancient levels of old but I'm pretty damn sure I can beat you in a race and it would just be sad to watch. Really. I mean, you can't like let people see you like that. Aren't you supposed to be some sort of leader of superheroes? Do you know how much cred you lose for being so old you totally lose a race to a kid? I mean, my legs are like half my height here so it's practically an unfair advantage but still. You'd lose. So badly. Soooo badly." She was mostly talking out of her ass here, but it seemed to be distracting him so she figured she would just run with it.
Scott laughed as he looked down at Layla, "Why Miss Miller, that almost sounds like a challenge," he teased. "Are you sure you want me to embarrass you in front of your friends like that? I'm just worried that'd your ego will never recover from the humiliation of being defeated by an weak, old man like myself. I'm not sure how you'd ever show your face around the mansion again after all this trash talking. Not that you do really show your face around anymore these days anyway." Picking up his toolbox Scott deposited it in storage before turning back to Layla while wiping his hands on a rag. "Being trapped in your little toe doesn't sound fun at all," he grinned, "I wouldn't wanna be demoted down there, or well shocked for that matter."
"It sounds like you want it to be a challenge. And you know, I can totally do that. You name the time and place for your Great Defeat and I will show up. And I'll even try to make it not entirely embarrassing for you so you can save some face. I mean, you won't save much but you gotta try to maintain something, right?" Layla laughed. "And you totally overestimate how much I care about losing to old people. I can always say that I let you win out of like respect for my elders. What's your excuse gonna be when you lose?" Not to mention Layla's complete and utter willingness to make a fool out of herself and look stupid to make other people smile. So far that tactic was totally working on the Almighty Socket.
"An excuse? You mean something like 'I wanted to help build up her self confidence and what better way than to be able to beat a teacher.' Not that I envisage any reason to break out the excuse since I don't intend to loose." He glanced at the line in the dirt Layla had previously drawn, perhaps it would be a good idea for him to get out of the garage and away from the grounds. "You almost done with your skateboard there?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I just gotta throw the new wheels on." She'd kept working but now he was distracting her so Layla was slowing down. Man, she used to have parts swapping down to like military precision and quickness! "Why, you lookin' to lose the race right now? "Cause I don't think jeans and a skirt are like running clothes, dude." She tugged the hem of her short denim skirt, pulling it out from her side and showing how little give it had. "Like I can skate in it but running seems probably like a worse idea."
"Well, I'm obviously going to need all the advantages I can get in this race," Scott pointed out, "beside if you're going to go around tossing out challenges to teachers left right and center you really need to be ready to deal with the consequences." He grinned wickedly before continuing, "I was actually thinking you're right, I really should get outta here and get some fresh air." The teacher nodded at his car, "I was going to take her out for a spin and was wondering if you'd like a lift out to a skate park."
Her totally valid - or so she thought - point about how der augenhöhle was a teacher but not her teacher died pretty quickly when he mentioned giving her ride out to a skate park. Instead of continuing her banter her eyes went wide. "Seriously? That would be bad ass, but I don't know any parks outside of like the five boroughs. Which, you know, is fine by me. Wait, are you gonna make me take a train back? "Cause that's like fine but I need to go get like ID and money if I need to do that." Which, you know, she didn't assume he would make her do that but it was better to cover her bases.
"I don't see why I can't pick you up after," Scott decided. "All I really want is to get out of the mansion. Besides if I'm taking you out and picking you up then you won't have to keep checking in with the mansion to let us know you're ok and can focus on the skating," he pointed out with an amused smile.
"You mean you don't want me to faceplant while texting in and trying to pull off like a one-eighty kickflip? Aw, you do care!" She wiped a fake tear away and tightened a screw on the next to last wheel that needed to go on. "I should probably tell Herr Wuschelig 'cause he totally thinks I'm gonna be in town. I can do that in the car though."
"Well Sarah probably wouldn't be too happy with me if I let anything happen to you," Scott replied with a grin. "Yeah let Kurt know that I'll be talking you out. We don't want a full team of X-men showing up at the skate park when he doesn't hear from you after all."
Layla gave him a salute, set down the screwdriver and fished her phone out of her pocket. Mit der Augenhohle. sein spater wieder*, was sent off to Kurt and then Layla was back to work on her last wheel. Once everything was on and she had tested to make sure all parts were secure, she popped up and held the screwdriver out to Sir Socket. "Sarah would throw down, not even gonna lie. But Herr Wuschelig knows and now if I mysteriously turn up singing to a beaver or something it'll all be your fault," she grinned.
"You'd...sing to a beaver? Why?" Scott asked lost somewhere between confusion and amusement, a state which he seemed to be falling into more and more when conversing with Layla. "Between Sarah throwing down with me and you humiliating me in a race it's a wonder I have any dignity or self respect left." As he spoke Scott dropped the screwdriver into the boot of his car and walked around to hold the door open for Layla. "After you," he said courteously. Perhaps they'd have a hot dog vendor near the skate park, he thought, something for him to eat while he kept an eye out for singing beavers.
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