Nathan and Illyana, Saturday morning

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Nathan and Illyana see one another for the first time since Asgard and banter a bit. Set in the kitchen Saturday morning.

There was something to be said, Illyana thought distractedly, for the modern miracle of electricity. Sure, magic solved some of life's problems -- depending on where you lived, quite a lot of them, actually -- but magic did not make toast (for example). She drummed her fingers on the counter, glancing at the clock on the microwave and wishing her body would adjust to regular mealtimes again. Not to mention enclosed spaces, crowded areas, and night at the wrong time, but one had to take things slowly, or so experience reminded her every so often.

Nathan walked into the kitchen and stopped, smiling a bit at the sight of the blonde girl standing there with her back to him. "Hello, Illyana," he said simply, going over to the fridge. "How goes?"

She jumped ever so slightly and turned at the sound of his voice, looking somewhat embarrassed. Months of being hyper-aware had not got her back into the good habit of keeping her guard up when she was alone. "Paranoid as usual," she said, lifting one shoulder and smiling slightly. "Yourself, purported lapses in logic aside?"

"Becoming at one with my encroaching senility," Nathan bantered, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. "It's surprisingly liberating." He glanced over at the cupboard, the door swinging open and a glass floating out and over to his hand. "And don't knock paranoia. It's a healthy survival trait."

"It is always good to see someone embrace the difficulties of ageing so gracefully," she said sweetly; her tone shifted back to normal. "And believe me, I wasn't knocking paranoia. Stayling alive happens to be one of my long-term goals."

"Aging is inevitable," Nathan said placidly. "Why kick and scream?" Pouring himself some juice, he leaned back against the counter, sipping it and watching her. "So. Glad to be back?"

Illyana raised her eyebrows. "Well, it sure as hell beats Asgard," she said dryly, "with my general lack of being enslaved and all."

"On the other hand, you don't get to break people's fingers here," Nathan pointed out cheerfully.

"There's a downside to everything," she retorted with a half-mocking smile. "But that was strictly business there." She paused. "Well, mostly business, and somewhat to do with the fact that ugly drunk men of dubious morals speaking Norse irritate me on many levels."

"Ah," Nathan said playfully. "I find breaking bones to be a particularly effective form of moral correction, myself. Kudos."

Illyana grinned briefly. "It did seem to teach them to play nicely pretty fast," she said, clearly amused. "Although I don't think Miss Blaire appreciated the tactic much."

"Feh," Nathan said dismissively, taking another sip of his juice. "Alison's no fun. Did you meet Dom while she was here? You ought to meet Dom."

"Don't think I know her," Illyana said, glancing back to check the timer on the toaster. "The name's kind of familiar, though. Should I assume she's more fun than Miss Blaire?"

"Fun in the bad way," Nathan said with a perfectly straight face. "But I think the two of you would get along. Dom doesn't have a whole lot of use for the small niceties, either."

"Sensible of her," Illyana said approvingly. "Combined with fun in the bad way must make her an interesting woman."

"I've always thought so." Nathan tossed back the rest of his orange juice, then refilled the glass. He couldn't help smiling at Illyana. "I did mention how glad I was to see you back and in one piece, right?"

She smiled back, looking slightly bemused and uncertain. Right into uncharted territory. Good. "No, but thank you," she said, clearly unsure how to respond. "I'm personally pleased to be back and relatively whole." With excellent good timing, her toast popped up, and she busied herself with the obviously arduous and intense task of spreading peanut butter on it.

"Rather than beat around the bush and try and be subtle about it," Nathan went on, watching her attend to her toast, "is there anything I can do for you? To help you get used to being here, again>" He shrugged as Illyana glanced back at him. "More gym sessions? Long arguments about Russian history?"

She turned her attention back to him and smiled. "Gym sessions sound good," she said, "considering now that I'm back in something resembling good shape I'm not keen to lose it again. Doubt I could argue Russian history with anyone over age twelve, though," she added dryly. "I'm definitely not quite up to speed after two months of forgetting all of it again."

"You should take my course in the fall," Nathan suggested. She gave him an inquisitive look. "History and culture of Eastern Europe and Western Asia. I've decided that the mostly-Western students here need a little educating about how that part of the world did actually have a history."

"An impressive task, considering the audience," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Sounds very interesting. If I'm allowed to take age-appropriate classes, that is."

"I don't see why not," Nathan said. "But I'll clear it with the Professor myself, if you're interested."

Illyana looked thoughtful for a moment, weighing her options quickly before replying. "I'm interested," she said. "I'm always up for learning useful things."

"Excellent," Nathan said with relish. "Fresh victims."

"The best kind," Illyana said solemnly. "Especially if they're willing."