xp_logs | Shinobi, Paul, and Hank

x-shinobi.livejournal.com posting in

Tuesday afternoon, after the fallout from a couple posts, Paul goes to check in on Shinobi, who has decided to hide in his room until it is no longer Tuesday. Hank, seeking sane company of his own, then proceeds to find them in bed together.

After Betsy was gone, Paul checked on Aurora and satisfied that she was busy, he trudged off to Shinobi's suite. He let himself in, in case Shinobi was really asleep, and entered Shinobi's room quietly. Shinobi was sprawled on his bed in the half-light, one arm flung over his face. There, on the desk, were the notes and the cigarettes, as promised. Paul crossed the room soundlessly to collect them.

Soundless as Paul's movements were, Shinobi was very aware of things in his living space. "Is it Wednesday yet?" he asked without moving his arm, voice slightly muffled by both his mood, and his sleeve.

"Not at all. Wednesday's not going to save you," Paul said dryly. He sat down on the bed, smiling a little at Shinobi's dramatics. "Sure isn't going to save me. Is hiding helping?"

"It makes it easier to pretend it isn't happening," Shinobi replied thoughtfully, pointing vaguely towards his open laptop, and Alison's currently-displayed post. "It's almost enough to make me wish I'd just stayed in Boston. Almost."

Paul grabbed the laptop and clicked a few times, then typed something in quickly before putting it back where he'd found it. "Like I said to Betsy, this place needs simultaneous loosening up and smartening up. What's the big deal? Scott has a few drinks and makes a dumb post. If that's the end of world, then we're all in a lot of trouble. People need to get over it."

With a wry snort, Shinobi shifted both arms to pillow them behind his head so he could look up at Paul. "Sarah and a few others got reamed last year for going out and getting pissed, so I think people are reacting on reflex. They're just forgetting that Sarah and the others got reamed because they were underage, not because they had a couple drinks."

"If they were stupid about it, they should get blasted for it, yes. Drinking underage is a big deal around here. You'd think that people who were already in a rather oppressed minority would be more careful about not breaking stupid laws, yes?" Paul pushed the laptop away and flopped back on the bed beside Shinobi. "Americans are crazier than Canadians, that's for certain.

"I miss London," Shinobi sighed wistfully, shifting just enough to give Paul enough room to lay down. "Hell, I miss Brighton. Brighton was fun, and there was none of this shite about image inducers or hiding or anything. There was no bigotry there, period, 'least not while we were there."

"Brighton's grubby," Paul said, settling down. "I like London okay. I like other places better, though. France is nice. Paris is hideous in the summer, but the rest of it is nice. I like Canada, personally. I love Montreal."

"I had Paris ruined for me, which I'm still unhappy about," Shinobi grumbled, freeing a hand so he could rub at his face. "I need to go back to Japan soon.. Canada first, though."

"I /like/ Japan. Japan makes sense. So does Canada, but in a different way. This place? Makes very little sense." Paul shrugged. "But the pay isn't bad. I just don't understand the people. I thought it would be a good place to kick back and teach a little and hang about. Apparently, complications are universal." He yawned and winced as something in his neck popped.

"You could go to Japan with me?" Shinobi suggested, turning his head to offer Paul a slightly hopeful smile. "God knows Sarah wouldn't go with me, as it involves a plane and probably dressy clothing once I'm there, and with my father being who he is, I'm not very keen on going off alone. Not that I know when I'm going, or anything useful like that."

"I'd love to go, as long as..." Paul sighed, fiddling with the pack of cigarettes he'd taken from the desk. "If my sister's well enough to leave when you're going, I'll come with you."

Shinobi nodded, his smile softening, and reached over to lightly pat Paul on the arm. Even if it was a slightly awkward movement, due to the bed's size. "It won't be anytime very soon, Paul. There's the party to deal with, and classes, and so forth.. besides, I'm already late, a little extra time to apologize for won't hurt anything."

"That's good." Paul closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I would like to go, I haven't been back in too long. What is it you're late for?"

"Visiting my mum." Shinobi somehow kept his smile as he returned his arm to its place behind his head. "She passed on in August of last year, and I'd promised her at the service that I'd come see her again August of this year. I owe her something of an apology, on that score."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Paul said sincerely. "I'm sure she understands, though it'd probably best for you if you go soon. I'm shit for visiting like that. I hate it. I feel like I should go but then it feels like if I go see one of them, I should see them all."

"She always was very understanding," Shinobi agreed. "Were it dad's grave, I wouldn't bother, save maybe to do a dance on it or something.. but she actually loved me, and made no secret about it, even if we didn't see each other much." He shrugged, with a wry smile. "I can understand why you hesitate, I think.. if you ever decide you want to make the rounds, as it were, I could go with you. I wouldn't mind, if you wouldn't."

"I've never done it," Paul said, tossing the cigarettes in the air and catching them again. "I don't know if I could. I don't think so. I visited my parents once. I remember the funerals of my adoptive parents. I've been back once. I get billed every month for a fair amount for plot maintenance for the four of them and a few other people. I'm a coward, but at least my bank account isn't."

"I wouldn't call it precisely cowardly, but as you will, I suppose," Shinobi murmured thoughtfully. "Hnnh. You'd mentioned things needing discussing, before you came up, didn't you?"

"I did? Oh. Right. I lied so I could come see you."

"You could have just said you wanted to come by," Shinobi chuckled, giving Paul an amused look. "It isn't as if I'd have said no."

"That would have been direct and adult of me," Paul said, giving Shinobi a nudge. "I thought that was against the school rules."

Shinobi shook his head, grinning lopsidedly. "Only when being direct and adult means you don't agree with someone else," he observed innocently. "Then it's against the rules."

"Oh, I see." Paul tried to sound sincere and thoughtful but it was ruined by the laughter just beneath the surface of his voice. "Thank you for clarifying that, Mister Shaw. I suppose most people wouldn't disagree with me getting out of that room. Or needing a smoke. Or possibly losing my mind. Is that permissible on school grounds?"

"Getting out and smoking are permissible," Shinobi replied thoughtfully, peering up at the ceiling. "I'd say losing your mind isn't, but people around here do it at the drop of a hat, so saying you couldn't would be something of a double-standard, now, wouldn't it?"

"I'm a strong supporter of the double standard, so I'm screwed," Paul said dryly. "Besides, only one crazy person in what's left of the family at a time." He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. "How'd you get into this mess, Shinobi?"

"I was kidnapped, believe it or not," Shinobi chuckled, returning his attention to the other man. "On my way out of one of my father's holdings in Paris. Emma and Manuel'd been imprisoned there, there was a grand rescue, and my car and I were hijacked for the getaway. I stuck around because it seemed safer than staying with dad. I think I made a mistake."

Paul laughed and shook his head. "Oh, I'm thinking the same thing myself these last days. But there's all kinds of safety. I'm used to a dysfunctional little world. I took myself out of mine and it nearly killed me. Maybe this is just a less orderly asylum, no?"

"Much less orderly," Shinobi nodded, letting out a heavy sigh. "I really am tempted to go home some days. Mostly the days where this place stops defaulting to 'home' when I think of the word."

"I suppose I can see that." Paul turned the pack of cigarettes over and over in his hands. "I don't think anything defaults to that word for me, so I'm safe there. Why do you stay?"

"The X-Men, these days," Shinobi murmured thoughtfully, trying - and failing - not to frown. "I don't think Charles' dream will ever happen, but that doesn't mean I'm not bloody well going to fight to try and encourage it to just because I'm a realist. I used to stay for Emma and Sarah, but.."

"But?" Paul leaned in, bumping up against Shinobi gently to get him to continue.

"Emma worries me now," Shinobi shrugged, making a bit of a face. "There's too much of the Club in her, I can't trust her like I used to. And we already discussed Sarah."

"I thought that was getting resolved," Paul said, frowning a little. "Though I have to say..." He shook his head. "It's not for me to say anything, actually. I agree with you that the Club is dangerous, all organizations like that are. They're not to be toyed with and it's better not to deal with the Devil, so to speak."

"I still want to take one of the Courts for myself," Shinobi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But only because the people who currently hold them can't be trusted with them. Same reason I want father's company - I don't trust him with it, I want to run it better tha he does, or have it dissolved entirely. I'm still trying to decide." He grunted. "Sarah's going to be seeing Kylun, to try with the whole 'moving on' thing, but that doesn't change the fact that she betrayed my trust and it hasn't come back yet."

"Better to raze it and build on better ground," Paul said quietly. "And as for Sarah. I hope it comes back, Shinobi. Sometimes it doesn't. And sometimes all you end up doing is cutting yourself to ribbons on the pieces, both of you. God knows I know that much." He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. "Sometimes walking away isn't an option. But if it is, don't hurt yourself and don't lie to yourself. That's all."

Shinobi shook his head. "No, it's always an option. It just isn't always a healthy one."

"I walked away." Paul turned his head, looking toward his suite as though he could see through the walls. "It felt like the right thing to do. I was wrong. In spite of everything, how broken it all is, she still found me. Mad out of her head, she knew where to go. Nature conspires against reason, once more."

"Everything conspires against reason once you set foot in this house," Shinobi observed, watching Paul thoughtfully. On the one hand, he was talking, which was good.. and on the other, more ironic hand, doing so over a lot of alcohol might prove a more pleasant experience.

"It's not just this house," Paul said, leaning in and taking on a conspiratorial tone, almost whispering in Shinobi's ear. "I've been around the world a few times. Sometimes I think the whole thing is mad. We're stuck in a handbasket full of Hatters and the tea is running out."

Almost as if Shinobi's comment about reason being hopelessly outnumbered was his cue, a large, blue-furred form took the opportunity to enter unbidden through the door, in a rather less than polite but understandable manner. Hank needed someone to make a scene in front of, and there were relatively few people that wouldn't try to stop him in the middle of one to try and make him feel better. He didn't need feel-better. He just needed a good old-fashioned rant. So, knowing that Paul was dropping in on Shinobi, and that Shinobi wouldn't mind a visit from his chess partner (nevermind they hadn't played in months at this point, it counts!), the course was clear to follow.

Which effectively explained the fact that the normally-serene, genial doctor was now pacing the room, without even much of a greeting before launching right into what was on his mind, the blue fur rippling in agitation.

"I seem to recall-- in fact, I rather think I recall clearly-- that some months ago, I had a conversation with a man. I do believe that during this conversation, I had occassion to show a couple of little pet projects I'd been working on. Now, mind you, being as it was months ago, I can't be sure of exact words, but it went something along the lines of 'Well, Hank. This is a lovely design for a journalling system you've worked up. I must say, I'm rather impressed by it. Would you be willing to put it into operation here at the mansion? I believe it would benefit everyone to have a place they can vent their fears and worries and concerns and feelings in a healthy manner, with a natural support structure in place. And it would do so well to promote the sort of community I think best represents things here.'" Having made several circuits, he gave the pair his first, distracted glance. It didn't really matter if either were listening or not, or what he'd walked in on-- it was saying it that mattered, anyway.

"So would someone please, please... explain to me in some fashion what in the nine levels of Dante's Inferno HAPPENED to that!? Maybe I'm misremembering the conversation or imagined it, as I'm not sure who I was talking to-- Oh, wait how could I forget; his NAME IS ON THE BUILDING!" By now, Hank had run enough that someone could get a word in edgewise, as he'd paused with his arms flung up dramatically and paused for effect. And because he'd run off the end of his thought without having another handy.

Shinobi'd had his mouth halfway open to reply to Paul before the dull thudding of someone approaching registered, and he looked towards the door just in time to see Hank come inside. Blinking owlishly, he silently mused about how he now had two normally tightly-bottled people venting in his living space, resigning himself to simply listening from his spot in bed - with Paul, OH THE SCANDAL! - as the blue-furred one paced about the room. And when Hank finally paused, Shinobi simpled grinned, lifting a hand to wave at him. "Hi, Hank. Should I go put tea on?"

Paul watched Hank over his shoulder for a long moment, then shifted to lie with his back to Shinobi, head propped on one hand, listening.

"Tea might not be a bad idea," he said, reaching back to pat Shinobi approvingly, "unless you have something stronger in the desk drawer or somewhere. Hank..." Paul sighed and gestured for Hank to come closer.

"It falls apart when people have absolutely no fucking interest in supporting each other. Correcting, yes. Fixing, sure, heroic feel-good efforts are always welcome. Gossipping, of course that's good. Arguing? Bring it on. But God forbid any of them actually take responsibility for how things affect them. God forbid they should have to just let someone else's imperfections slide. You didn't misunderstand. You just put it up for people who don't know have a fucking clue about what it's really for."

The bed made a distressed creak as Hank found a place to flop down sullenly upon without crushing the other two men, nodding absently in agreement. "Oh, I know all this, of course. But since I shan't be making a public scene in my private writings today, I needed to locate a fresh forum for the sentiments. I'm sorry to say you two were elected without campaign." He paused briefly, added, "You know, I set that server up on a weekend I could have spent across the country at the SLAC playing relativistic billiards with subatomic particles?" He shrugged, offered Shinobi an apologetic grin. "I think I can survive without, but if you'd care to share a pot between the three of us, I don't think I'd consider it a crime."

"Tea fixes everything," Shinobi replied solemnly, reaching over to give Hank a light pat on the shoulder as he shifted to get to his feet. The bed would probably be grateful for the lack of extra weight, anyway. "We could drown them all in tea, and matters would be resolved, see? Fixes everything." He flashed a tired grin, turning to walk backwards towards the door, and subsequently, the kitchenette. "Alas, I don't have anything stronger hidden away, Paul. All my liquor is stashed in countries where I won't get people bitching at me for drinking a glass. Not worth the headache."

"Right, right. Land of the free, home of the upfuckingtight, I forgot where we were." Paul shook his head and sat up a little as Shinobi abandoned the bed. He reached over and put a hand on Hank's shoulder, rubbing the knotted muscles there with strong fingers. "Hank, I think I told Shinobi this already - sometimes you have to just go do what you want to do. You should have gone, server or not. Not that it would have avoided the regular implosions of hypocrisy around here, but at least you wouldn't be feeling even more resentful. It's not like they don't run you ragged here already without so much as a thank-you."

Hank made a combination of pleased hisses and grumbling agreement. "It isn't that quite so much. It was, after all, my choice, and I thought it worth doing, or I wouldn't have. It's just galling to see a willing sacrifice end up so." He shrugged, wincing a touch as Paul's fingers found a particularly tight spot. "And you're only half-correct, on the alchohol, incidentally. It isn't illegal for you to drink. It's illegal for you to buy. Your legal guardian is responsible for deciding whether you can enjoy a drink or two now and then. It's illegal for an adult to buy alcohol and cigarettes for a minor to circumvent the law, but not so in the case of a parent sharing a glass with their child, for instance. So technically, you'd just have to get a bottle of wine or two from... hmm. it's a bit more nebulous in-between minority and drinking age. But you get the point. Ridiculous, really. You're old enough to be yanked off to another country to kill people, you can inflict lung cancer on yourself, but a little drink is a bad, bad thing."

"Do I even have a legal guardian?" Shinobi mused incredulously, eyeing the pair for a moment before ducking out of view to begin putting tea together. He rose his voice enough to still be heard easily in his room, even if both men currently in it had pointy ears that were likely better at hearing than his were. "I'm over eighteen.. and I can guarantee you that my father wouldn't give a rip if I got wasted on his dime. Hunh." He made a thoughtful noise, then poked his head back into the doorway, looking between the pair curiously. "When your sister's settled in a bit more, Paul, should the three of us go to Harry's?"

"I think that would be a good idea." Paul moved to better soothe his grumpy suitemate's muscle knots, tucking the pack of cigarettes away in his shirt pocket. "I keep forgetting that you're theoretically underage here. You choose your government, create another human being, drive a lethal box of steel and gears, fire a gun, and put on the X-Men uniform, but you can't have a drink with us. That's complete bullshit. And it's bullshit that Scott can't have a little fun and be silly without people jumping all over him. He's the leader of the goddamn X-Men, he should get some respect and some slack for that, not the opposite. Forget Harry's. We should go to Canada."

"Mmm... well, Harry's can't legally do it, because of all the ridiculousness. It's one of those 'in your home' things. At any rate, I vote Canada. I hear Toronto's nice... I rather liked my week in Calgary some time back, too." Hank nodded, at Paul's comment. "Heavens, the man's got more reason to break down than almost any of us, but he lets go for a night and gets his throat jumped down. I guarantee you, he's going to overcompensate back the other way."

"Pedestals," Shinobi replied unhappily, shaking his head. "The kids whine about us being too heavy-handed, smothering and and stuck up, then turn around and whine about us being too laid-back and not putting bars on everyone's windows. Sarah still doesn't think anyone would have stopped her from going to the tunnels, had she left from here, you know that?" He rolled his eyes, and ducked back out of view. "Fie. Tea."

"Tea fixes everything, doesn't it? I was going to spirit you off to Baja," Paul said thoughtfully, scritching just under Hank's ear as he pondered the logistics. "But we could grab a redeye to Toronto some Friday after class and be downtown in time for dinner. I'm still taking you to Baja, but it can wait until the weather up here is worse. No pedestals in Toronto, at least none for us."