xp_logs | Jean and David: Social Studies (Backdated)

Jean takes David to Angel's Clinic in District X to do some volunteer work.

David was already waiting for Jean when she arrived in District X, leaning against his bike with fingers flying over the keys of his Blackberry. The telepath had offered to take him to the Clinic she volunteered at in the hope that he could be less of a grumpy, anti-social hermit. It was a faint hope and he was a lost cause. But apparently lost causes were somewhat of a hobby for the X-Men.

"Pardon me," Jean's voice spoke up as she slipped past a couple of women holding hands. One looked normal, the other appeared to have semi-translucent skin with an opaline sheen.

Jean's attention lingered on them a moment with a genuine smile before her gaze turned to David.

"Always punctual," she said with a smile.

"Are you ready?"

“Of course,” David replied, phone disappearing into the depths of his coat as he gestured for Jean to lead the way. “Although you were not very clear on what exactly we are doing today.”

"I have a couple of programs that I help administer," Jean said as the clinic came into view. "And you will be my volunteer...." She smiled again.

"Should you choose to accept the mission. Are you up for it?"

He held the door open for her, a slight quirk to his lips. “Only if you hold my hand.”

Jean strolled past him. "It would make doctoring rather difficult....but I suppose if you are truly terrified you can always stay in the daycare. I'm sure the children would be glad to let you share their sippy cup and animal crackers."

The clinic was abuzz with activity. People of all walks of life waited in the waiting room. Some waited patiently, reading magazines or newspapers and some tried to wrangle their screaming infants or toddlers. An old man delighted a young boy with a magic trick involving a deck of cards next to a fishtank while a tired, but dedicated receptionist took appointments while finishing off her last few precious drops of coffee.

"Welcome to the madhouse," Jean said affectionately, squeezing an older woman on the shoulder as she passed, heading for the back.

“Isn’t that the Mansion’s nickname?”

North faithfully trailed after her, taking in the scene with as open a mind as anyone could hope of him. It truly was an interesting sight, although heavens (and Jean) knew how much he hated medical facilities and the like.

“So what now, doc?” He asked with an expectant tilt of his head. The handholding had been a jest, but on second thought, it was a pretty valid request, at least in the metaphorical sense. Since, well, his medical expertise did not extend beyond self-medicating. “You still have not told me what we are doing. It is all very mysterious.”

"It's one of the nicknames," Jean said, walking past the hallways filled with small medical rooms with nurses and patients buzzing about. Eventually they entered a more colorful section of the building, passing through a single locked door that required a pass card into rooms that had walls that were lined with children's drawings, posters about nutrition and bulletin boards talking about upcoming yoga and wellness classes.

"This is the recreational center that has been setup next to the clinic. They work in conjunction with the medical side of things, promoting overall wellness and helping the community," Jean explained.

After a couple of minutes of walking they slipped through another door, coming upon a large pantry stocked with canned foods and other essential items. The smell of tomato sauce and garlic bread filled the air ahead of the actual sight as they entered a commercial kitchen, where large pots of spaghetti sauce simmered on the stove and pasta boiled nearby. The buzz of people talking was heard in the distance.

Jean grabbed an apron and a hairnet and offered it to him.

"Today I figured you could help serve at the food kitchen for a little while. The food's already cooked. All you have to do is just dispense it. The food kitchen caters to the poor families around District X. It all runs on donation."

“Yes, Ma’am.” David accepted the apron and shrugged off his trenchcoat, tying the fabric expertly around his waist. With his white shirt and dark slacks, he looked remarkably like a restaurant waitstaff, complete with a faux polite smile which he flashed quickly stowed away in jest. The pair garnered a couple of discrete and not-quite-subtle looks from the few people in the kitchen, all easily ignored by him. “I suppose the traffic of people will be quite steady, if not heavy?”

"More than likely," Jean said, taking a second to stir the a pot of spaghetti sauce. "District X doesn't exactly cater to the elite."

She glanced over after a moment. "You don't have to do this if you're feeling uncomfortable."

He glanced down at himself and then at her with a quirked brow. “Do I look uncomfortable?” He paused for a beat. “Maybe. I should have worn a T-shirt.”

David may have been a rich man’s son growing up. But he was also military. And a spy. It was never a good thing to be comfortable in his books. Which was, perhaps, beside the point in the current circumstance so he said rather inanely: “I like cooking.”

Jean tilted her head, a grin blossoming on her lips. "Oh really? I'm learning all sorts of new things about you," she said.

"What kind of cooking?"

"European dishes, mostly," David shrugged. It was well known in his office that he would feed those that asked. "No better way to get it tasting right than to do it myself. Americans make a mess of cuisine, mostly."

Jean laughed. "I can't say much to defend myself since the apex of my cooking knowledge comes to knowing how to make a chocolate cake. Which is more baking than cooking. Never had the time. Now if you need someone sewn up while speeding on a motorcycle down the streets of Mumbai...I'm your girl."

She paused. "Please don't need me to do that, by the way. It can get very messy."

"I make no promises, Doctor," David shrugged, only halfjoking though he did offer a small smile in lieu of more reassuring words. "Job hazards and all." Not forgetting the adrenaline junkie behaviour and tendencies he occasionally displayed.

"But if you want authentic French or German food, I am your man."

"Authentic German, hmm?" Jean said with a smile. "I think Kurt would be very happy to hear that. If you're ever up for dinner some time. I can make the salad."

"He knows it firsthand, I believe." David did not think that Jean had magically forgotten whom he had run away to Germany with after Genosha, but he was not about to remind her."I will insist that you take charge of the fruits and dessert as well."

"Oh...right," Jean said, feeling her cheeks flush red. "Sorry, it's been a long...existence." Sometimes it was easy to lose track of who knew who when the X-Force crowd didn't live at the mansion.

"Well, I'll see what I can do. I think it might be a store bought concoction, however. Or strawberry shortcake." Fruit plus dessert in one fell swoop with minimal fuss.

"Do not worry," he said calmly, moving around her to grab a strainer for the pasta. "I am no expert in dessert. No expectations for you to meet. I only ask that it be sweet." And unpoisoned.

"I'll try my best," Jean said with a smirk, then nodded to the strainer. "Are you ready to face the teeming masses? They won't bite, I promise."

He hefted the pot he had been watching over up and brought it over to the sink where he proceeded to strain the pasta out and into another huge bowl.

"Even if they did, I promise that I bite harder."

"I have no doubt," Jean said, patting him on the shoulder. "Let me know if you need anything. I need to make rounds."

"Yes, Ma'am," David saluted sharply, before retrieving the spaghetti. "Thank you for sharing this with me. I can tell it means something to you."

Jean smiled. "You're welcome. It does," she said without hesitation. It gave her a sense of purpose, not that she needed it.

The spy gave her a quiet, contented smile and nodded at her before heading for the door. "Go on, then. I promise not to bite."

As a soldier and spy himself, there was very few things he dared hold dear to his heart. But that did not mean he could not enjoy the fact that other people did. This place clearly made Jean and other people happy, and David was content to bask in that, even if for only a little while.