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xp_logsQuentin has no time for Haller's gratitude, so Cyndi forces him to not be a total jackass.
"Quentin, are you there? Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Jim was fairly sure the younger man was in his room. He'd seen him arrive home from the X-Factor offices an hour ago, but had resisted the urge to ambush him.
He'd also wanted to be sure he was stable enough for the conversation. This was going to be awkward enough without the risk of forgetting who he was talking to halfway through.
The last time Haller had come by was 6 years ago, when Quentin was just fitting into his new body. He'd described his disconnection from reality during that time as server lag. And since Haller awoke, that lag had come back. He'd felt uncentered since the events at Haven, sure, but that was typical I Saved The World anxiety. Now he felt like the world he'd saved had tilted a few degrees and he couldn't stay upright. And the appearance of a conscious and mobile Haller did not help to realign him.
"Which one are you?" he asked, blocking the entrance into his suite so Haller could not just step in.
"Subject to change," Jim muttered. "Look, I just wanted to talk."
"Why? I got your email. You're welcome, now we're even."
As Jim had been half-anticipating, Cyndi decided tact was for cowards and did the internal version of a hip-check. "Yeah, well, not per my last email we were a bitch to you in particular, and unlike some Jims I know I don't do On Read. Probably this isn't a conversation you wanna have in the hall, but y'know, I'm easy."
"Oh. It's you." Quentin's neutral expression melted into a sneer, but he stepped aside to let them in so Cyndi wouldn't make good on her threat. He shut the door behind her, and as usual when he had a visitor (or any time, really), he went to the kitchen to pour himself a drink. "All right, what's this minute conversation you want?"
Cyndi threw herself onto the couch with the sort of boneless ease displayed by Jim never. "Well first of all, asshole, thanks for scraping me off the astral plane. I know you're not a member of the Chuck & Jimmy Respectability Politics Knitting Circle."
"Yeah, well, like I said, I owed you a debt. You saved my life, I saved yours, we're practically twins." One drink down, Quentin poured a second. "Are you good, then? All stitched back together and not Radha-fied anymore?"
The alter waved a hand. "More or less. Jimbo's shields are kinda fucked, but I guess that can happen when you get pulled apart and glued back together. Fresh sutures or whatever. The rest of us are basically okay if you don't count the weird shit where I forget I'm not that Chain douche, or 155. She was cool, but we were too similar, y'know? Redundant." She made a face. "I don't claim the creepy white dude, by the way. He's one of Jackie's. Literally nobody missed him when he went."
"I don't understand how these personality alter systems work and frankly I don't care. Things are back to normalish, so good." Quentin shook the ice in his glass, considering. "Is the kid okay?"
"Davey's solid. He's actually sort of in his own little pocket that limits a lot of damage, blah blah self-preservation instinct blah. Whatever. Don't worry, that kid's older than I am. One day Haller's going to do something terminally stupid and it's just going to be Davey and his Crayolas left."
"He'll find no shortage of suckers here who'll be all too happy to parent him. Besides your actual daddy." The bottle of gin came to his hand but he hesitated before pouring drink number three. "I hope you're not here to bring up how I brought you back. We don't have to talk about that."
Cyndi, watching Quentin's determined assault on his liver, raised a single eyebrow in an expression uncomfortably reminiscent of both Jim and Xavier.
"Probably not," the alter agreed. "I'm gonna, though."
Quentin was prepared to shoot his way out of this encounter. What would win, he wondered, Cyndi's telekinetic inferno or his telepathic artillery? He hoped he would not have to find out, but he was already visualizing the Armstrong in his mind.
"Fucking out with it, then."
The pyrokinetic rolled her eyes. "Oh, unclench. You can handle two minutes of sincerity. Besides, I don't actually wanna talk about your feelings, just set some things straight." Swinging her legs off the armrest, Cyndi assumed a marginally more formal position and held up a finger.
"One: David Haller Shame Circles are just the greatest hits of half-truths and your own insecurities. So y'know, if you were the kind of person who gave a shit about that stuff I'd keep that in mind." Another finger raised. "Two: everyone fucks up. You have the balls to go big then yeah, there's a chance you screw up big, but as one of your rotating stable of blondes said: You gotta take a risk to earn any real reward. Maybe talk to like, even one other person before you go all in with the next charismatic hottie preaching mutant utopia, but at least you're trying something new. Respect." A third finger uncurled. "Three: I'm not telling anyone shit. Whatever we saw back there, no, we didn't. You wanna bring it up then we'll miraculously recover a buried memory, but otherwise, whatever. You don't gotta worry about that."
She paused, then made a face.
"Yeah, okay," she muttered, and held up the last finger. "Four. That thing you weren't willing to do for me, that I didn't see? Thanks."
"I don't know what you're talking about." For maybe the briefest fraction of a second, a grin appeared on Quentin's face. Though it could very well have been an illusion. "I didn't fuck up. The only mistake I made was not pulling the trigger earlier, but she wasn't quite in my crosshairs just yet. Don't worry, you tell Jimothy that next time I take down a doomsday mutant cult, I'll take care of things earlier. And you tell him not to poke his nose in my business."
Cyndi gave him a salute. "Aye-aye, captain. But also, seriously . . . next time, even one other person. Workshop that shit a little. You know we're always down for the assist, but you know Jimmy'll try to get clever again and that last time really fucking sucked."
The alter rose from the couch and pressed her hands to the small of her back, stretching out her spine before turning back to Quentin to flash him a smile. "Anyway, two minutes, as promised. See you around?"
The fourth drink was finally consumed. "I'd rather you didn't." A beat. "Welcome home, sis."
"Quentin, are you there? Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Jim was fairly sure the younger man was in his room. He'd seen him arrive home from the X-Factor offices an hour ago, but had resisted the urge to ambush him.
He'd also wanted to be sure he was stable enough for the conversation. This was going to be awkward enough without the risk of forgetting who he was talking to halfway through.
The last time Haller had come by was 6 years ago, when Quentin was just fitting into his new body. He'd described his disconnection from reality during that time as server lag. And since Haller awoke, that lag had come back. He'd felt uncentered since the events at Haven, sure, but that was typical I Saved The World anxiety. Now he felt like the world he'd saved had tilted a few degrees and he couldn't stay upright. And the appearance of a conscious and mobile Haller did not help to realign him.
"Which one are you?" he asked, blocking the entrance into his suite so Haller could not just step in.
"Subject to change," Jim muttered. "Look, I just wanted to talk."
"Why? I got your email. You're welcome, now we're even."
As Jim had been half-anticipating, Cyndi decided tact was for cowards and did the internal version of a hip-check. "Yeah, well, not per my last email we were a bitch to you in particular, and unlike some Jims I know I don't do On Read. Probably this isn't a conversation you wanna have in the hall, but y'know, I'm easy."
"Oh. It's you." Quentin's neutral expression melted into a sneer, but he stepped aside to let them in so Cyndi wouldn't make good on her threat. He shut the door behind her, and as usual when he had a visitor (or any time, really), he went to the kitchen to pour himself a drink. "All right, what's this minute conversation you want?"
Cyndi threw herself onto the couch with the sort of boneless ease displayed by Jim never. "Well first of all, asshole, thanks for scraping me off the astral plane. I know you're not a member of the Chuck & Jimmy Respectability Politics Knitting Circle."
"Yeah, well, like I said, I owed you a debt. You saved my life, I saved yours, we're practically twins." One drink down, Quentin poured a second. "Are you good, then? All stitched back together and not Radha-fied anymore?"
The alter waved a hand. "More or less. Jimbo's shields are kinda fucked, but I guess that can happen when you get pulled apart and glued back together. Fresh sutures or whatever. The rest of us are basically okay if you don't count the weird shit where I forget I'm not that Chain douche, or 155. She was cool, but we were too similar, y'know? Redundant." She made a face. "I don't claim the creepy white dude, by the way. He's one of Jackie's. Literally nobody missed him when he went."
"I don't understand how these personality alter systems work and frankly I don't care. Things are back to normalish, so good." Quentin shook the ice in his glass, considering. "Is the kid okay?"
"Davey's solid. He's actually sort of in his own little pocket that limits a lot of damage, blah blah self-preservation instinct blah. Whatever. Don't worry, that kid's older than I am. One day Haller's going to do something terminally stupid and it's just going to be Davey and his Crayolas left."
"He'll find no shortage of suckers here who'll be all too happy to parent him. Besides your actual daddy." The bottle of gin came to his hand but he hesitated before pouring drink number three. "I hope you're not here to bring up how I brought you back. We don't have to talk about that."
Cyndi, watching Quentin's determined assault on his liver, raised a single eyebrow in an expression uncomfortably reminiscent of both Jim and Xavier.
"Probably not," the alter agreed. "I'm gonna, though."
Quentin was prepared to shoot his way out of this encounter. What would win, he wondered, Cyndi's telekinetic inferno or his telepathic artillery? He hoped he would not have to find out, but he was already visualizing the Armstrong in his mind.
"Fucking out with it, then."
The pyrokinetic rolled her eyes. "Oh, unclench. You can handle two minutes of sincerity. Besides, I don't actually wanna talk about your feelings, just set some things straight." Swinging her legs off the armrest, Cyndi assumed a marginally more formal position and held up a finger.
"One: David Haller Shame Circles are just the greatest hits of half-truths and your own insecurities. So y'know, if you were the kind of person who gave a shit about that stuff I'd keep that in mind." Another finger raised. "Two: everyone fucks up. You have the balls to go big then yeah, there's a chance you screw up big, but as one of your rotating stable of blondes said: You gotta take a risk to earn any real reward. Maybe talk to like, even one other person before you go all in with the next charismatic hottie preaching mutant utopia, but at least you're trying something new. Respect." A third finger uncurled. "Three: I'm not telling anyone shit. Whatever we saw back there, no, we didn't. You wanna bring it up then we'll miraculously recover a buried memory, but otherwise, whatever. You don't gotta worry about that."
She paused, then made a face.
"Yeah, okay," she muttered, and held up the last finger. "Four. That thing you weren't willing to do for me, that I didn't see? Thanks."
"I don't know what you're talking about." For maybe the briefest fraction of a second, a grin appeared on Quentin's face. Though it could very well have been an illusion. "I didn't fuck up. The only mistake I made was not pulling the trigger earlier, but she wasn't quite in my crosshairs just yet. Don't worry, you tell Jimothy that next time I take down a doomsday mutant cult, I'll take care of things earlier. And you tell him not to poke his nose in my business."
Cyndi gave him a salute. "Aye-aye, captain. But also, seriously . . . next time, even one other person. Workshop that shit a little. You know we're always down for the assist, but you know Jimmy'll try to get clever again and that last time really fucking sucked."
The alter rose from the couch and pressed her hands to the small of her back, stretching out her spine before turning back to Quentin to flash him a smile. "Anyway, two minutes, as promised. See you around?"
The fourth drink was finally consumed. "I'd rather you didn't." A beat. "Welcome home, sis."
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Date: 2023-12-26 01:17 am (UTC)