xp_logs | [Paul, Paige] It's not all younger sisters he has trouble with, see?

Paul and Paige cross paths in the gym. They talk about mutations and training and talk around another subject. Paul likes her already but not enough for the huggy stuff.

Paul hadn't bothered to wrap his hands before stopping in the gym to throw a few punches at one of the reinforced punching bags there. He'd been on the way back from his run and the notion caught his fancy so he stepped in, dropped his shirt and kicked off his shoes, and went to work bare-foot and bare-handed. Years ago, he'd trained properly with a friend, a former boxer turned police officer, and the rhythm of the punches and footwork still appealed to him.

Paige had finally stopped shaking around three this morning, but it hadn't rid her of the itching feeling deep bellow her skin. Unable to keep still and yet nothing appealed to her; she'd already tried her Chemistry books, her horse and even a visit to Angelo and the puppy, but all left her even more antsy than before. Running out of ideas, Paige went back to the original sensation, the crawling, and decided that training was in order, even if she didn't end up shedding anything. She passed through the doorway to the gym, eyes half closed with her head tilted to one side and waited until it made a loud cracking noise before straightening herself and found an unfamiliar man before her. Somehow, it didn't phase her.

Paul finished a smooth, lightning-fast sequence of blows and stepped back, pushing damp bangs out of his eyes. He was really going to have to jump one way or the other, long or short, because the hair was getting annoying. In the pause, he turned to see who'd come into the gym. One of the students, the Guthrie girl, he thought. There weren't so many in school right now that he couldn't keep track. "'Evening," he said pleasantly, nodding at her.

Nodding in return with just a glimpse of a smile Paige fully entered the room. Trying to ignore the fact that she was blushing, Paige made her way over to her shelf where she kept a pair of shoes especially for this area and sat down to put them on, quite content to be looking anywhere but up right now. She had no idea why she was feeling so shy all of a sudden; this had been her home first after all.

Paul straightened his shoulders, feeling something pop under the left shoulderblade -chiropractor, right, that was on the list- and stepped forward to deliver another series of controlled punches to the bag, wishing there were an impact monitor on it. How the hell was he supposed to know how hard he was hitting if he didn't have feedback? His eyes narrowed and he stepped up the pace, punishing the insufficient piece of equipment with blows that echoed through the gym.

Paige smiled a little broader at the popping noise, still tying her shoes; someone obviously had as many problems as she did and that was somehow reassuring. Finished with her shoes she set herself to stretching out a few key places in her legs, counting in her head, before moving to her shoulders. She was notorious for pulling something or other at least once a session, but it could usually be fixed with a well-concentrated husk. Bruises and even scars didn't bother her now; it was exciting once you got over being terrified. She flexed her hand, watching the bones move underneath in fascination, before standing and making her way over to the other punching bag. Xavier had long ago learned to install a series of them, if only to have multiple spares when one became destroyed and they were waiting for someone to reinstall a new one.

Paul could see her out of the corner of his eye, he watched her approach her own punching bag, not quite focussed on the task at hand yet. Then again, neither was he. So much for treating even the fixed target as an opponent. He frowned direly, pulled Arcade's laughing face up in his mind for inspiration, and hit the bag hard enough to rock it wildly out of its usual arc. That was better. He grinned wolfishly at the memory of his fist connecting with that pudgy jaw and followed up with a neat set of body blows that met the bag perfectly each time.

Allowing herself a moment of concentration Paige closed her eyes and exhaled, slipping into Logan's ready position without thought. If she'd noticed she probably would have been amused if nothing else. There was a moment of stillness before Paige inhaled and opened her eyes simultaneously, attacking the punching bag with the ferocity that she treated everything in life. She still fought by the book, but because of that everything looked as neat and flawless as it had been created. Paige always said she couldn't dance, but she'd also never seen herself like this.

Paul stepped back before he really tested the limits on the reinforced ceiling anchor and watched Paige work. He tucked his hair back behind his ears and tilted his head, hands on his hips, brow furrowed in a slight frown. She was very focussed now. From what he remembered from the lists, she'd had a good teacher for that and had the makings of a candidate for Xavier's little army. She could hit a punching bag well, he thought dismissively. But so could a lot of people. If they wanted to make something of her they'd have to throw her in the Danger Room or at least give her a challenge in the practice ring. He wondered if they let students use the Danger Room and made a mental note to ask.

Paige paused, halting the bag with one hand and turning to face him. A piece of hair from her ponytail had fallen out and taken this moment to drape across her face which would have almost been attractive if she wasn't so irritated by it. "You're staring," she observed bluntly, part of her annoyed by his unimpressed look. She hadn't asked for an audience, thank you kindly.

"I'm evaluating," he corrected her, unapologetically. He raised an eyebrow at her irritation and refrained from finding it amusing.

Bristling immediately, Paige fixed him with slightly narrowed eyes, pushing her hair out of her face. She did not have time for this and she did not train with him. "I'd ask for my "marks" but your face says it all," she replied, only the fact that he was eventually going to be a teacher keeping her from saying anything else.

Paul shrugged and smiled slightly. "Really? I had no idea I was so transparent. Is that part of your mutation? Jumping to conclusions?"

"No, I've just try to avoid such emotionless-" Paige started to answer before clenching her jaw and issuing a half apologetic grimace. "I'm afraid you've caught me during my unpleasant stage where I generally avoid people. Do you have anything constructive to offer or may I go back to attacking the disappointingly inanimate object?"

"Your footwork is stagnant," Paul noted, wandering over and picking up his shirt. He used it as a towel to wipe sweat from his neck and shoulders. "Your punches are well-placed, but you're hitting a punching bag. Your timing is excellent and your focus as well. You have good balance. You're graceful and your basic technique is solid. If I had to guess, I'd add that you're bored and underchallenged. You're also probably here to work out something going on in your head more than to work on your skills."

Paige gave him lopsided smirk, more amused than angry now. "As you said, I'm fighting a punching bag. It doesn't move. Not much room for the footwork I'm used to." She watched him move idly, quiet study and supposed she could understand why the school had been so very excited at his arrival. He might even be attractive if he didn't open his mouth. But that wasn't fair, she'd managed to get along with Logan and he was more than willing to tell her when she was being stupid. Then again, he'd managed to smile when she got things right, too. Shaking her head slightly to rid Logan and the pang that came with him Paige refocused. "As for the rest, you're almost correct. I'm here to ignore the problem in my head. I don't allow such distractions in my work."

"Who's training you now?" Paul asking, the frown returning. Something wasn't quite right around here. There were all this half-children in limbo, it seemed. Almost trained but not quite. It put his teeth on edge, like taking peacekeepers into a warzone. A person could be one thing or the other, but not both.

"Scott Summers, when he can. He's a busy man, Captain and all," Paige answered with a hint of a challenge, as if daring him to say bad about her teacher. She really didn't like the look on his face right now, but she didn't like being thought of as anything but complete and in control and so she kept it under wraps. "It's difficult. No one really has a mutation like mine so I have make do with what they can give me, in bits and pieces."

Paul nodded. "He's a good leader, but he can't do everything and shouldn't. You're right, he's busy." He stretched slowly, not wanting his back to tighten up. "And piecemeal is the way of it, everyone's different. Need to work with what you've got, that's for sure, no matter what it is." He was indifferent to her challenge, still thinking about the situation. Summers wasn't the problem.

Paige let the muscles in her shoulders loosen, pleased with her response. She knew the problem wasn't her; if he bothered to accuse her of that she would merely laugh at him and tell him she had more important things to do, but defending Summers was important to her. "Which is what I do, I assure you. I'm one of the dwindling numbers who isn't afraid or embarrassed by her gift."

"Good. So what is it?" Paul sat down on the floor to stretch out his legs, looking up at Paige through the sweat-heavy locks of his bangs.

His sitting down suddenly brought her attention to the chill of the room. This was why she generally avoided negative emotions; they were so distracting. Paige rubbed at her arms, shaking out limbs that were threatening to tense up on her. "Metamorph. At least, that's what it says on the file."

"More specific. What good does it do?" Paul got to his feet gracefully and gestured toward the sparring mats. "What's the functionality? How do you use it in a crisis? I know a lot of metamorphs. I'm pretty sure your file didn't say anything about turning into an animal or growing to a nine-foot, one-ton, hairy beast. I'd have remembered that." He was getting cross but kept a lid on it. He had to work with these people, children and adults alike, and he didn't like how they'd been handled.

"Ask a good question and get a good answer, Mister Beaubier," Paige returned with ease, tightening her hair before stepping gracefully onto the mentioned matt. "I tear off the outermost layer of my skin to reveal a new form underneath. Flash fry if you will, but I thought husking was catchier. Prevents me from getting hurt, added speed and abilities as I see fit." She tilted her head slightly and squinted, just a bit, trying to see the man who so many had raved about for years. Almost there. "Oh, and I use it very well in a crisis, thank you."

Paul nodded. "Nice. I like it already, very useful. What are your limitations? Weaknesses?" He stepped into the ready position much as Logan might have. "What needs work?"

"I have to know the exact structure of what I'm husking into. Luckily, that's not all that difficult for me," Paige responded, smiling slightly at the familiar scene. "But I can't turn into something with more mass than I have, although, I haven't mastered something with equal mass either, so I'm sticking to that. Working on being able to specify which limb or area is husked currently. I can usually get a forearm but I had incentive."

"What do you want to do with it?" He gave her a slight, formal bow. He admitted grudgingly that he missed working with the Beta team.

There was a simple reply to that. "Everything I can," she replied, administering a bow of her own. She didn't expect to beat him, but she certainly knew she could get him out of breath.

Paul hoped sincerely that Sam was this motivated. Not that he had any investment in a sibling pairing on the teams. Of course not. He gestured for her to come at him. "Let's see what you've got," he said mildly. This wasn't going to be a fight, just an exploration. She'd try and hit him, and he'd let her get away with whatever didn't hurt too much and let him stay on his feet for the next blow.

Paige's only indication of starting was her actual movement itself. She didn't blink, take a deep breath or even let her muscles tense overly much as a warning. She wasn't fantastic yet, she wasn't even eighteen, but the little things made it evident that one day, if she wanted to, she could be. Her hits were solid and smooth, although, she held back anything of great difficulty, anything that could cause serious hurt, until she had felt out the situation. Jean-Paul was managing to deflect or take every hit, even the kick she'd worked on for hours to get perfect, and while it was annoying it meant she didn't have to hold anything back. His mutation, obviously. She was slightly envious.

Even more some minutes later when he held up a hand for her to stop, barely out of breath. Paige was panting, so much so that she allowed herself a step back so she could breathe and not have to worry about a sneak attack. "What did I do?" she asked, bent slightly and looking up at him. It was such a Paige thing to do, to assume that she'd made a mistake and that's why they were stopping.

"You're tired," he said blandly. Captain Obvious himself couldn't have done better. "You're already over-extending. I realize that your mutation allows you to take a lot of damage, including the kind from mistakes, but that doesn't mean you're going to get better fighting tired. And, until you're no longer practicing just as a student, I understand that pushing you until you drop isn't proper procedure."

Paige offered him a rare true smile, thoroughly amused. "You are no fun at all, sir," was her reply, brushing her hair back with a hand, but it wasn't a complaint. "Does this mean I need to convince someone to let me be more than a student and then you'll make me cry with exhaustion?"

Paul nodded. "If the opportunity arises, I don't see why not. Everyone needs to find their limits, push them back, and find them again. It never stops, it just harder to find them sometimes." He stepped back into the ready position briefly, habitually, and gave her a little parting nod before stepping away. He scooped his shirt off of the floor and pulled it on, making a face at the damp fabric on his skin. "You're very good," he said neutrally. "You know that, right?"

Looking away, Paige managed to look embarrassed as she tried not to smile some more. "I like to think so. It's what I do best. But it really doesn't hurt to hear it sometimes," she answered, trying not to sound as pleased as she felt. If she didn't watch herself she'd be sounding like an eager puppy, just waiting for someone to finally notice her. "But yes. Crying with exhaustion. I'd like that sometime."

What she did best. Paul couldn't help smiling. He knew exactly what she meant and had no doubt that she'd be knocking on Xavier's door on her eighteenth birthday. "That, I can promise you," he said, pulling on his shoes. "When the time comes. Oh, and while we're on the subject of constructive offerings, Paige," he gestured toward her ponytail, "you really should consider a trim, or a new trick. You can't sweat out split ends, I'm afraid." His smile slid into a slightly mischevious grin.

Paige stuck out her tongue at him, sliding into complete ease. "Occasionally, I have more important things on my mind than grooming, sir. I'm clean and my clothes fit. That's good enough for me," she said before looking down at herself. "Okay, so I'm less clean at the moment, but still."

"It's the principle of the thing," he chided lightly. "Besides, I'd think you'd look on it as a challenge where your mutation is concerned."

"Don't take this personally, but I generally have better things to do with my mutation than to make my hair pretty for you," Paige teased in return.

"Yet," he said, winking at her before heading to the door. "They didn't just hire me to teach French and look pretty. Maybe you'll get lucky and get a trainer who doesn't care about the whole package."

Paige rolled her eyes and threw her own towel at his retreating figure with a grin. "I'll think about it. Now, get out of here before I decide to hug you and do the jumping up and down thing with screaming."

"Fleeing already." Paul didn't bother to suppress his grin at Paige's obvious happiness. "Good luck tiring yourself out." He let the door swing shut behind him and was gone down the hall, headed for the showers.