xp_logs | Quentin & Kevin, Monday morning

xp_erverse posting in

Kevin has some professional advice for Quentin following the fracas on Madin's journal.

Kevin paused long enough at the door to remember that the last time he'd been in these offices was to update Lorna on Warren Worthington's encounter with Satanna. He needed better reasons to come in beyond people making bad decisions, he considered right before he noted who was first in, making yet another mental check in the files no one knew he kept. He paused just long enough to ensure Quentin Quire wasn't up to early morning unspeakable acts before tapping on the door frame of his office.

"I brought coffee. It's coffee. Good coffee, but just coffee. You're not the only one with a persona to maintain."

Post-Pride Monday morning and Quentin had almost recovered. Enough that he was actually wearing a suit and not the short shorts and t-shirt he had strongly considered for ten minutes this morning. And while he had already had his morning coffee, he welcomed another cup. So he waved Kevin in and telekinetically pulled out a chair on the other side of his desk for him. "Maybe for the best," he said, shutting his laptop, "I have a client meeting in an hour. So, to what I do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm sure this will come as a complete shock, but it's about that clusterfuck on the journals." Kevin was straight to the point, taking a sip from his cup as he sat. "Now, normally I do my best to pretend the journal system doesn't exist, but I can't do that this time. So I'd like to hear your perspective on it, if you're willing. If not, enjoy the coffee and I'll let myself out."

Quentin put down the cup before he even drank from it, and considered Kevin's request. "I really don't want to relitigate this," he said after a moment, "But fine, I'll humor you. What exactly do you want my perspective on? The content and inaccuracies of Madin's post? Armchair psychology on why Madin feels the way they do? The completely unhinged responses by a supposed superhero and a member of your team?"

"I saw plenty of unhinged rhetoric. But I'm curious why you interjected yourself. If there was a point you wanted to get across?" Kevin said, his face maddeningly blank as always.

"I think I made my point clear in my first 'interjection,'" Quentin replied, mimicking Kevin's tone and facial expression. "Do you want me to elaborate? Madin's post may have been . . . let's say 'unbalanced.' But they engendered utterly deranged responses from utterly deranged people and no one had their back. So that's where I came in."

"I saw plenty of places that could have been excellent points to call out Lewis or Gibney in support of Madin. But that's not what you did." Kevin replied, leaning back a bit in his chair. "That's what I'm curious about."

"No, because they're not interested in the finer points of rhetoric. Sydney, we both know what you specifically want to talk about. Why don't you just ask me already instead of beating around the bush?"

"Was the death threat for a specific reason? Did you have a plan in mind when you escalated things?" Kevin said. "Or was it just your first impulse?"

Quentin leaned back in his chair and nodded. "There it is. Yes, it was an impulsive comment, but it shut her up and kept her away from Madin for the rest of the evening, didn't it? So, mission accomplished."

"Is it?" Kevin said. "Right now, there are two Quentin Quires. There is the Quire that came here years ago that gets off on shock value but skates consequences because the people who know him know that the threats are empty. That Quire can say whatever horrible shit he wants because he'd got nothing to lose. And then there is the other Quire, who says he's trying to build something. Who is asking people to trust his ideas. Trust him as a leader. And that only happens when they can believe what you say. When that Quire says something, it has meaning, good or bad."

"And are these two Quentin Quires in the room with us right now?" Quentin crossed one leg over the other, trying to get across just how unbothered he was by Kevin's insinuation. The bitterness in his voice belied that. "If you're here to question my leadership, then you've missed out, 'cuz I've discontinued professional self-assessment. It's corporate nonsense that the overseers do to make themselves feel like they're actually doing labor. Not my style."

"Sadly, there's only the one Quire in the room. The one that quite possibly fucked up his business in order to win an internet argument." Kevin said. "If this was me that you pulled this crap with, the very first thing I'd have done today was make sure every one of the people working here knew you threatened to kill two members of the mansion multiple times, and question whether or not they were comfortable with that fact from their 'leader'. Next, it would be to Xavier, who as you have so often pointed out, believes in his soft nice idea of people and mutants living in harmony and make sure he knows I think you're capable of it and you scare me and others being under the same roof, sending you packing. So, I'm sure you'll sneer about all of this, but a half dozen phone calls and I've got a reasonable shot at costing you employees and isolating you out of the mansion by lunch. Want to know more?"

The telepath was silent for a moment, still schooling his expression to hide that he was seething internally. "No, you've made your point," he eventually replied. "Thank you for taking precious time out of your busy day to come talk with me. Is there anything else?"

"There's actually quite a bit else I can think I could do if this was me. It's not me, but it is someone I trained. Who I'm pretty sure is going to start coming up with similar ideas unless you get out in front of this." Kevin drained the last of his coffee and flipped it into the waste from his seat. He got up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Building something also means having something to lose, Quentin. That's the last of my unwanted advice I'll inflict you with today. Good luck." The older man nodded and walked out the office door.

Quentin remained seated, but his gaze followed Kevin out the door. He waited another moment until the older man's unreadable psi signature was far away before getting up and going to the office kitchenette to dump his undrunk coffee into the sink. From where he stood, he could observe the rest of X-Factor Investigations—his staff, his colleagues—hard at work, doing whatever was needed to help the individual mutants who came to them in seek of aid only they could provide. There was a lot to lose.

"Well, fuck."