xp_logs | Quentin & Sooraya, backdated to July 17

Quentin offers to help Sooraya with her school supplies drive, but he quickly burns through any goodwill he might have engendered by continuing to harangue her for District X.

"Yes, that would three boxes of each. Yes, that is right." Sooraya paused as she listened to the person on the other end of the line, idly doodling on a piece of paper before her. "If you cannot help me with that, can I talk to someone who can? Your supervisor maybe?" Luckily she had move from the kitchen to a nearby parlor once it became clear this was going to be a long phone call.

Some day, Father Quire was going to have a conversation with Quentin about all of the cash advances he was taking out on his credit card. But that was a problem for Future-Quentin. Present-Quentin needed money and plastic would not do.

Quentin stepped into the main foyer and took a deep, stabilizing breath. Chuckles had described this as one of the simplest uses of telepathy, but opening his mind to the ether, even just to perceive the presence of other minds in the area, always carried great risk. Still, Xavier's guidance had been good, and it was not long before Quentin identified the signature he was looking for down the hall.

He did not think to knock on the doorframe or otherwise announce himself as he entered Sooraya's makeshift office and dropped the bundle of cash on the table in front of her.

"No, I will not hold! You have been giving me the runaround for the last thirty minutes!" Sooraya startled a little when the money suddenly appeared in front of her and her eyes slid up the arms of the owner of the money. She blinked when she recognized the pink hair. "You know what? I will call back in an hour or so. I suggest you find out something I can use!"

Dropping the phone on the table, she looked at Quentin, surprise visible on her face. "Uhm... thank you. I had not expected that."

"For your school supply whatever thing. You said you needed money, so. Here. Should get you a forest's-worth of notebook paper." He glanced at the phone and raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?"

"That would be some suppliers who have been giving me the runaround about a discount they have. First call, they said it would possible but now they are not so sure." Sooraya glared at the phone. "But if they keep it up, I will go somewhere else. No worth it."

"They know it's for mutants, then?" Typical. Even the assholes who made pencils were doing the most. He shook his head and turned to leave. "Well, good luck with that. Hopefully for your sake, you'll handle that better than the crafts fair."

"No, it has nothing to do with that. This is just plain old bureaucracy within that company. And maybe a lack of training of the employees at the help desk." Sooraya frowned at him and snagged a chair with her leg. "Sit." She pointed at the chair. "Looks like it's time for that talk."

Quentin sighed dramatically and turned back around. He very pointedly did not take the offered seat. "Why do you think I have anything else to say to you? I just gave you money. Fuck, I'll even help put together your party favors or whatever. I don't have anything else to say to you."

"And I am grateful for that, as well as any help you would like to offer. I was going to let it be, but you were the one to bring it up. This world is harsh enough without us being at each others throats at the mansion. Now, sit." Sooraya replied, her voice lace with steel.

"Ugh." That was quickly becoming Quentin's catchphrase. He sat, arms folded across his chest and one leg crossed over the other, and leaned back, telekinetically balancing the chair on its back two legs. "What?"

She studied his face for a moment, before tilting her head and inquiring seriously: "So how long will I be hearing about what happened and the choices that I made that day?"

Quentin considered the question for a brief moment and then shrugged. "Til I find someone else to criticize, probably. When someone actually dies because someone makes an even more fucked up decision than you did."

"You know, if you had not made the choice to try and blow your brains out, then I might actually have been able to do something." Sooraya raised her eyebrow. "All hindsight of course, but without a walking wounded I could probably have slipped back with Topaz when you all were safe."

"If you'd made the choice to actually help that poor guy in the first place then I wouldn't have gotten fucked doing your job for you," Quentin retorted coldly. He stood up again, letting his chair fall to the ground with a crash. "Don't use me as an excuse for your own ineptitude."

"No Quentin." Sooraya shook her head, staying seated, but her eye boring into Quentin's. "I am well aware of my own failings and shortcomings. The consequences of the choices I made. But those choices I made do not exist in a vacuum. That is what I want you to see."

"Oh, I see that. But that doesn't justify your inaction or everyone's white knighting of you at the expense of the actual victim. That's what you and every other self-obsessed, myopic idiot here needs to get through their thick skulls. You know," he said as he started pacing, too much nervous and angry energy coursing through him to be able to take his seat again, "I can't believe that none of you sees the hypocrisy of preaching brotherhood and community and then, when the oppressor faces you down, you shrink back like a dog instead of standing up against them."

She calmly regarded his... well almost rant... "Just let me ask you one question. What would have happened if we had interfered, we would have been caught and the mansion would have been brought to the attention of the authorities?" Probably not much chance of success, but she had to try.

"If you're gonna use these ridiculous doomsday scenarios then at least think them through," Quentin scoffed. "We've got fucking superheroes and murder-spies operating out of here. What happens when they catch the flatscans' attention? Or are you going to tell them to stop because it's too dangerous for all the babies here, doesn't matter if they're doing good work or not?"

"We are not invulnerable here, Quentin. That is something you do have to realize. The mansion and its inhabitants have been attacked before. So it's not just doom scenarios, it's experience." She tilted her head, studying his face a moment before asking. "How much do you know about Genosha?"

"Small island in Africa, colonized by white Europeans, recently revealed to have built its wealth on the backs of enslaved mutants, who were prohibited from sharing the spoils of their own labor. Typical capitalism but with a genetic twist. What this country is only like two steps away from itself."

"Three years ago the mansion took in two refugees from Genosha. And they retaliated. The students back then and several staff members were kidnapped during a rally, a number of them enslaved and turned into mutates. A rescue mission only partly worked and several were captured. Some were abused and tortured." Sooraya eyes were far off as she remembered those events.

That was not anything that Quentin had expected to learn. His expression softened sympathetically, but only for a moment before he pulled it back under his everyday veneer of misanthropic hostility. "Seems like even in the best and noblest of situations, you all can't keep people safe here. Gotta wonder what the fucking point is, then."

"Not always no. We do our best, but in the end we are fallible humans beings. But even if we not always succeed... should we just give up then?" She inquired honestly, tilting her head.

"Literally my point. We don't give up. And we don't abandon our brothers and sisters." Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by a beep, and Quentin pulled out his cell phone from his pocket to check the message he got. "Well, this was fun, Sooraya, but I've spent all the time I could today to bash my head against a wall."

"Of course Quentin. Again, thank you for the money." She studied him for a long moment. "You know, maybe if you bash your head against that wall long enough, you might just break though. And see things from a different perspective." Sooraya's own phone rang and with a last nod at Quentin she answered it. "Yes, It were three boxes..."