[Paul, Hank] Tell Clarice to take back the socks...

[x-vega.livejournal.com]

Paul, in the grip of a lot of painkillers and between healing phases, is perky enough to play a hand of gin with the big fuzzball and the little fuzzball.  Blue and fuzzy is good, brown and fuzzy is good, but we find out that grey and fuzzy - the colour and texture of lost memories - is not.  Hank gets to hide out from the chaos and have some grownup conversation.  They decide mutually not to let anyone unnecessary visit Paul as he's tipping over from being just unfortunate to look at to downright disturbing.  Set around midday.  Paul's dropping in and out of being alert is typical for someone with a blood-cell production disorder.


It had been a taxing.... month? Asgard, then Mistra, then Shiro, now this thing with the girls this morning. Maybe all of... what, a few days here and there in-between? Less, sometimes. None at all, this time, really. He had been planning on taking some time more or less 'off', when he woke up to hear (well... read) the latest, and it didn't take long to decide that, for once, the abundance of other medlab staff could handle it quite well, and he could just go about what he'd planned on doing for the day. Which, at this early juncture, meant coaxing Delphine out of Clarice's care (Or perhaps, coaxing Clarice to release the feline). Of course, telling the feline that "we're going to see your papa" probably helped rather a bit in that regard. In any case, it was therefore not long after his afternoon breakfast (wholesome cereals make Beasts grow up big and strong!) that the fuzzy, bespecticaled head that is that of Henry McCoy makes an appearance in Paul's Room of Recovery, alongside a light rap on the doorjamb before the polite, requisite question. "Are we up for a visitation this sunny afternoon?"

The sight of Hank peeking around the door, and Delphine's little head peeking around down below him, got a laugh out of Paul.  "Of course.  Come on in."

With a grin, Hank entered the room, settling the cat on the foot of the bed, prior to closing the door and finding a spot to perch himself. In this case, a chair reserved for visits, though naturally, it's not his habit to just sit normally so much as crouch atop the poor abused furniture. "Due to an increase in the insanity levels outside, I felt that perhaps Delphine would like to come hide in relative quiet. And I gather she's missed the company." That, of course, doesn't comment upon Hank's own hiding so much, but. Perhaps it does, at that.

Delphine leapt onto the bed, mewing pitifully.  Paul pulled her close and kissed her nose, murmuring endearments to her in French.  Then she wriggled to get free and began inspecting him curiously, alternating sniffs with disapproving little false sneezes.  "Yes, Papa needs a bath, I know," Paul said to her.  "And yes, if I didn't hurt so much, I'd be grateful to be in here.  You're welcome to hide out yourself," he added.  "Though I might fall asleep on you after an hour or so."

The blue-furred doctor grinned, nodding. "A most welcome offer, I assure you... And the slumber is expected. After all, You aren't precisely in top form just now. But i imagine that the forced exile, after a fashion, leaves one in the mood to be sociable, even if not in top form." A brief pause. "And it's certainly a welcome respite from the apprent sudden rush of teenaged..." Another pause, while he grasped for words. "Stuff, to use the term."

Paul listened to Hank, half-losing the meaning in the rumble and the convoluted phrases, but enjoying the sound of it nonetheless.  "I can see that it's going to be exciting around here.  Well, I'm in the medlab and all hell's broken loose.  Does that mean I'm officially settled in?"  Paul winced as Delphine attempted to clean his reddened, blistered cheek.

"It's unfortunate, but accurate to say so, I think" Hank threw a rueful grin agross the intervening space, withdrawing a deck of playing cards from his lapcoat to keep his hands busy with. One of the advantages to big hands-- one can shuffle anywhere, and it doesn't come off nearly as a fidget. "And there are the students attempting to beat a path to breaking down the door to see with their own eyes, so that, too, would indicate being rather well-established in mansion life. Speaking of which, I hope it will not bother you unduly to have them kept at bay for rather a while yet."

Paul looked startled.  "They want to see /me/?" 

Now, that, draws out the McCoy humour, in a rather more wry than rueful grin. "I know, shocking, appalling, and rather frightening, isn't it? Actually, it's mostly Clarice, who doesn't seem to have considered the effect radiation has on a person quite yet. A particular notion that I'd prefer to keep out of her young mind for the meantime. 'Unfair" or not."

"Thank you."  Paul touched his cheek where Delphine had been licking it to try and fix the wounds.  "I'd really rather they didn't see me like this.  I'd put it down to pride, but it's also best they don't.  They've seen enough to keep them in bad dreams, from what I understand."

There doesn't seem to be much argument from Hank on that score. "Precisely. I don't know many adults who are prepared to see the effects of radiation poisoning. I'm in no real rush to expose the frailities of biology to children, even the sorts of extraordinary ones we have around here." Cards fluttered between fuzzy hands. "And frankly, there is currently more than enough..." Visibly, a number of rather harsh descriptors parade through Beast's mind before he settles on one. "...youthful mishaps floating around to keep us busy without piling avoidable psychological damage to otherwise unharmed children atop it." A shrug. "But I digress unnecessarily. How are we feeling today, besides the blatantly obvious?"

"Better than I should be, thanks to Amanda," Paul admitted.  "I've seen this before and I saw the numbers.  I know I should be dead, or I would be if I were human.  And I know I should be a lot worse than I am right now given how I was Friday night.  Still.  I hurt.  I feel toxic.  And I can feel my skin dying and slipping and... it's just not pleasant.  The most annoying thing right now is that I bloody stick to everything in sight if I move."

For now, with irritation upon waking still fresh in his head, Hank decided to simply skim over mention of the girl, instead nodding. Considering between a professionally-colored response, or a social one, he reminded himself he came here with the idea of NOT working in mind, and grins. "Literally bloody, I imagine.  well, a little anyway. Look on the bright side, though... when your skin grows back, you'll probably sport a tan to be envious of."

Paul laughed at that.  "And no tan lines, you're right.  Damn things have been bothering me since I got here.  I appreciate the perspective.  And the company."  Delphine butted against Paul and mewed loudly.  "I see you, chere.  You're not glittered yet, I'm impressed."  Paul eyed the cards in Hank's hands.  "If you're looking for a challenge, I'm afraid I can't help you.  But I can play badly..."

Hank glanced down at the cards, and grinned. "Mostly just to keep my hands busy. They become accustomed to having things to do. However, I would not be adverse to a hand or five. Have a preferred card game? Honestly, I tend to prefer a good game of chess, but it's rather less portable... and it's harder to put together a regular group to fleece when the game is chess. Poker has the innate advantage of actually being a betting sort of pastime."

"Chess is good," Paul said, perking up a little.  "But so is poker, euchre, gin - the game as well as the drink - and about anything else you can think of.  Fourteen years in the paramilitary sector plus a good six years before that on team busses to competitions, I can play about anything."  Delphine set about making a nest in Paul's lap.  "Ow, ow... angel, you're hurting Papa."  He moved her to a pillow and she whined, rolling over to show her belly.

Hank pushed himself up, to move to sit upon a clear portion of bed, pausing to offer the cat a one-fingered scritch behind the ear. "Quite attached to you, I've noticed..." And then, he had to retrieve his finger so he could deal. "I think we can skip the high-stakes poker. I haven't been favored a hand of the classic gin rummy in quite some time... and I think perhaps, you're not quite up to a game of Speed in any case."

Paul managed a grin.  "Playing Speed with me is unfair at any time.  I always win."  Delphine put her paws up on Paul's shoulder and mewed at him for attention.  He sighed and winced and moved her.  "Bebe, Papa's skin isn't going to survive you."

Watching the cat long enough to finish dealing cards out, Hank reached across in an attempt to scoop Delphine into his lap, instead, to receive one-handed attentions there. "Apologies, my dear, but I'm afraid it'll have to be a surrogate today. Papa's in somewhat of a bad way. Though I'm certain he's pleased to see you, too."

Delphine squawked dramatically but allowed herself to be scooped.  "Thanks Hank."  Paul picked up a hand of cards.  He cast a wistful look at his cat who was gnawing half-heartedly on Hank's thumb as revenge for being removed from her Papa.  "She is attached, but so am I, I'm afraid.  First time parent and all that."

the gnawing elicited a wince from the man, because half-hearted or not, cats do have rather sharp teeth. But not so sharp that he sees fit to deny the feline her revenge before stroking her back in recompense. Once some placation was reached, he picked up his own cards, arranging the hand to his satisfaction. "I'm told it's rather the case. Though as yet, it's primarily secondhand information. Or perhaps not. It becomes a bit nebulous here at the mansion at times."

Paul smiled at that.  "Well, no kids for me.  Except for the furry kind.  Even if there are a few drifting around this place who might need a parent... I'm not a believer in the idea that any parent is better than no parent.  At all."  He sorted his cards as well.  "Would you like to open?"

"I tend to agree with you on that score... however, it isn't precisely a simple thing to stand by such principles at times. i simply take comfort in the fact that I have the leisure to occassionally hide out in the basement from it all. And manage to take solace in solely adult company now and again." Eyeing his hand critically, he shook his head. "Tradition dictates the player left of the dealer opens. It wouldn't do to offend the gods of card games or some such thing."

"Of course."  Paul drew the face-up card and frowned at his hand, reaching absently to reach for a tissue to wipe moisture threatening to drip down from his brow.  He laid another card down and gestured for Hank to continue.  "What's your specialty?" he asked, looking over at Hank after he'd finished.

Hank followed suit, frowning at his hand, as it was not, at least this early, proving very cooperative. "Specialty? Which variety in particular-- professional, social, cards-wise? I presume professional, but..."

"Medical, first," Paul said, taking his turn.  "Then team-wise.  I saw you on the lists.  I'm curious.  I read the backgrounders, but that's not always what people say about themselves."  He reached over and grabbed the ubiquitous cup of ice chips.  He was really getting his liquids and nutrition and drugs through the IV but the ice was soothing.  He just wasn't allowed too much at a time.

Hank frowned at his hand as his turn came up again. "Mmm... bio-chemistry, primarily. Aside from the general sort of medical doctor. I'm also no slouch as a physicist and computer guru. Which is probably a fair covering of my place within the team, aside from the general sorts of brutal fisticuffs one can hardly really call a specialization. I patch people up, I concoct serums, tinker odd devices into being... nothing out of the ordinary when you're sporting a prodigious number of academic accolades saying you can." A pause, before discarding a card. "Rather more time spent with the patching portion of things, much to my dismay. Other projects have been necessarily set aside of late."

"I noticed.  Tinker is about the word I was thinking of, but a physician as well.  Interesting combination."  Paul took his turn, looking not displeased.  Delphine had perked up and was peeking at Hank's cards, little ears straight up and tail curved into a question mark.  "And apparently you like Twinkies," he said with a little amusement.

Hank drew a card, looking down at the interested cat. "What, spy something i don't in all of this?" He murmured to Delphine, before responding to Paul. "Ah, yes. Well, despite knowing full well what those terrible little things do to one's body and all that, someone slipped me the confection some time back and i can't quite seem to resist them. I suspect foul play and addictive substances on the manufacturer's part. Or possibly just a joyfully harmless self-destructive bent. I'm unsure. I think caffiene holds similar ground, come to think of it."

"Cards fascinate her," Paul said.  "Mostly because she knows if she grabs some and runs off, it's chaos.  But I think she's trying to figure it all out.  She tries to read too and she likes to click the mouse when I leave the web-browser open.  Cause and effect."  He frowned at his cards and ate another piece of ice.  "Are Twinkies vegan?" he asked, only half-rhetorically.

"Always heard cats were rather intelligent sorts," Hank replied, tapping this one lightly on the nose once. Though if asked, he wouldn't be able to say why he had. "I rather doubt they are... though i suppose these days, they might use vegetable oil instead of lard or something like that to cut down the fat content and somehow appeal to the health-conscious in favor of greater dividends from that market. Not that the polysaccharides and preservatives and what all else won't still do a number on said health-conscious people. personally, I favor letting an active lifestyle make up for disparities in what is eaten and what *should* be eaten. It allows me more freedom to enjoy the things I like. Also, i suppose honesty would compel me to admit I tend towards eating whatever happens to be thrust in front of me at any given point in the day."

Delphine made a happy mrrt at the attention and curled her tail around one of Hank's wrists affectionately, like a cat-hug.  "I've been rather h ealth-conscious myself," Paul said.  "Partly because of ma petite," he pointed at Delphine, who mewed back, "and partly because, well.  I guess I got bored with the daily grind of eating and veganism was an interesting challenge."

Grinning, Hank repaid the cat's pleased noises with a one-handed scritching. "I've heard far worse reasons to take on such efforts than the trials of listless ennui, by all means. And I'd certainly credit the Vegans with having devised a terrifically complex and exacting diet that the anceint Hebrews might have found impressive, even by the standards kosher eating set down."

"It didn't make sense to fill the house with things that would make my girl sick before she knew what to avoid.  She's pretty good now.  No one likes throwing up.  Though apparently hairballs are different, especially when you can aim for my date's alligator shoes."  Paul's tone was a little despairing.  "She likes me single."

"This is all very true..." He grinned down at the cat. "But you wouldn't begrudge the poor dear her grooming and looking-pretty. I'm sure she just thought the shoes looked like an out-of-the-way place to hack up the fuzz where you wouldn't have to be bothered by the sight of it."

Paul shook his head at Hank.  "See, you've bought into her wiles."  Delphine mewed at Hank and started to purr.  "I know her.  Once is an accident.  Repeated offenses make me suspicious."  He took a card, smiled a little, and resorted his hand before discarding. 

Stopping the petting so he could take his turn and discard one of his cards, Hank smiled beatifically. "Actually, I've just recognized the winning side of this one, and allied myself accordingly. I think she's possessed of the upper hand, all told."

"Well, of course," Paul said, amused at Delphine batted at Hank's arm to get his attention.  "I think you've been adopted.  Which is a relief for me.  She makes friends more easily than I do, though.  She's far cuter."

Hank ruffles the feline's head. "I believe it's the ears. Certainly not the fuzz, as I have an abundance of that to enjoy as it is." He looks down, addressing Delphine. "A pity you're far too small to asist in moving furniture around. Not that I don't have plenty of help with that, I suppose. Or that I do have much motivation to actually move the stuff, as yet."

"Moving?"  Paul looked at little puzzled and reached for another tissue.  "I'd offer to help, but... no."

"Ah.. well, actually, I'm a bit behind moving my things to the new wing. it's been busy down here, and actually transporting the assorted deitrus isn't precisely what i'd call a welcome prospect... though I'm going to be pointedly informed to get myself in gear soon enough, I suspect.

"When did that happen?"  Paul tried to think about it and realized that his memory was, well, fuzzy.  Grey and fuzzy to be precise, and he didn't like it.  Blue and fuzzy was good, brown and fuzzy was good.  Grey and fuzzy, not so much so.

He has to actually think about it himself. "Three... four days ago? Day or two before you landed yourself here, I think." Stars, had it really been less than a week? He needed a vacation, obviously. "Very big to-do all around, and then a new set of disaster to be distracting. Life as typified at Xavier's, at least recently."

"Damnit, I don't remember a thing."  Paul bit his lip, an ill-advised gesture, and reached for another tissue.  No moving.  No facial expressions.  Right.  "I got here because... Shiro?  And before... I don't remember.  But I remember getting to Xavier's."  He shook his head.  His hair hurt when he did that.  No moving.  "Must be the rad poison, which is what I have, I know that much."

Hank nodded. "Yes... Shiro... well, rather detonated his powers in a major sort of way. Since it's essentailly solar radiation, after a fashion... not that there's a great deal of difference between radiation types at that sort of level... well, you were there. radiation poisoning, burns, the whole enchilada, as they say. But you've been making remarkable progress despite it. In any case, A couple of days before, rennovation were made on one of the wings, and everyone's more or less moved into the new rooms. I suspect I'm possibly the only holdout at this point. Though... I have no idea if you'd gotten around to it yourself. Under the circumstances, i suspect it's not going to be much problem if you hadn't yet."

"Hadn't.  I don't think."  Paul paused, sorting cards to cover his dismay at the memory issues.  He didn't care about the move but losing his faculties was really distressing.  Great.  Ugly and senile.  Who knew old age could come so fast?  "I might have... would you check for me?" 

Perhaps not covered quite well enough. Or hank had just been on medstaff far too long to need to see the dismay in any case, he nodded. "Be happy to. I'll get me out of the basement, which is something I've been told is desirous on any number of occassions. And I shouldn't worry about the memory loss. Should simply be a bit of short-term, and clear itself up, more or less. You'll probably retain a little blank spot, but it's a fair sight better than one could hope for, considering."

"Definitely."  Paul leaned his head in one hand.  "According to what I remember from one of our less happy terrorist thwarting exercise, braincell die off is expected and is usually finite.  We'll see, won't we?"  He drew a card and put down another.  "And thank you."  He looked up at Hank.  "Not just for checking on things, but," he gestured vaguely, "things in general."

He grinned and took his turn to draw, discard, and rearrange. "Welcome. It is, simply, what i do. Ask... ah.. well, nearly anyone, I suppose. But, I appreciate the thanks nonetheless. And thank you, for the company. This morning's drama did a fair job or riling my fur, as it were, and i suspect I'll have to be in a position to actually deal with it before too long. Nothing quite like a cat, intelligent, adult conversation, and cards. A pot of tea and it'd be an unreachable ideal."

"Green tea?" Paul said wistfully.  "Or maybe a nice singe-estate organic, shade-grown black.  Or oolong..." He sighed and looked mournful.  "I can't wait to have an operating GI tract again."  He drew a card and focussed on his hand.  "I think I should knock about now."

"All very noble teas. I've been favoring a good chai of late. Black tea, Green tea, some lovely spices. Dollop of honey. Sometimes over ice with skim milk." the latter announcement earns a scowl. "Oh, sure. Thwart my creul plans to go gin."

"Chai, I can do, with soy milk.  And yes.  I'm evil like that."  Paul set cards out, having managed to come out fairly well.  "I'm off my game, but I know when to call early.  I could see you'd quit pouting at your cards."  His eyes sparkled briefly.  "My vision may be fuzzy, but so are you, so it all works out."

The tease earned Paul a disgruntled, but not wholly so tongue-stinking-out-at. "And here I was hoping you'd take it as simply becoming engrossed in the conversation. Ah well." He lays out his cards, which were certainly in the running to manage a full set. It's a fair ways less impressive with the crucial card in the sequence he was working on missing, but at least he managed a set of three. "i'll just get you next time, villian."

"I'm only the bad guy because I'm ugly," Paul retorted good-naturedly, sweeping the cards up, or starting to.  The skin on one of his fingers slid a little and he winced.  "Lovely.  At least there's something underneath, thanks to Amanda and my mutation, either or both."  He showed it to Hank and there was, indeed, a bit of a nascent dermal layer underneath, but it was very thin and lymph was beading on it already. 

Being the doctorly sort, Hank leans over to peer at the area, adjusting his glasses. "Well, either-or, it's good to see it. Definite progress, all told."  And probably quite fortunately the man was up to his eyeballs in painkillers. "I think your return to playing good guy roles will not be too far off, at this rate."

"Indeed.  I hope so."  Paul yawned and winced.  "Damnit.  I'm never tired."  Delphine traipsed over and mewed at him, butting him lightly with her forehead.

With a grin, Hank collected cards. All told, a full hand wasn't such a bad showing. "I think that my esteemed collegue Dr. Delphine believes it is time for you to rest."

"She'll bite me if I don't do what she wants."  Paul was loopy and sleepy all of a sudden.  It kept sneaking up on him, damnit.  "You don't bite, do you?"  He eyed Hank warily.

....who was now eyeing Paul thoughtfully, before he scooped up Delphine again. "No, not at all. Sleep, Paul. You're still recovering. I'll make sure Delphine gets back upstairs alright." No mistaking the doctor's order, there. And, to the cat, "Papa needs his rest. I'll see if we can't bring you down again a little later, mm?"

"Tell Clarice to take back the socks."  It was like being run over by a truck hauling a lifetime's worth of exhaustion.  Paul knew he wasn't making much sense but couldn't help it.  "And the pens."  He laid back in bed and pulled up the covers, feeling things shift unpleasantly.  Everything would be taken care of, though.  He could sleep.