![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
x-kitten.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsMuch with the backdating
Manuel stood in the garage, looking at the assembled might of the Mansion's automotive fleet with something akin to naked envy. He was fairly sure that his driving lessons would end in failure, even though he felt that his skills were up to snuff. He had a feel for the road now, and a feel for how driving one'e self around could be liberating. Even fun, although he hid that from even Amanda. If you let people know what you found fun, then they could take it away from you. And he was in no position to defend his interests and hobbies from anyone.
Kitty was humming the major theme from the latest piece they were working on in her private dance lessons as she snagged the keys to the jeep off their peg. The latest meal she'd made for Lockheed had proved how bare the supply of dragon food (meat, meat, and a little more meat with a side of whatever else happened to be in the fridge) was becoming. She was briefly grateful again that her father hadn't asked questions when she'd asked for an increase in her allowence (if they were allowed to get divorced without telling her she could have a pet, even a pet dragon, without telling them) as she headed into the garage. Partway through the door she spotted Manuel.
"Oh, hey," she called out. "What's up, Manuel?"
Manuel felt Kitty's approach, so he didn't start when she spoke. "Just - looking," he said defensively. "I have another driving lesson tomorrow. I was thinking of what kind of car I should buy. I had my eye on this Jaguar convertible - a gorgeous piece of equipment. A shame I shall not be permitted to drive it on my own," he added.
Kitty eyed the Jag. "Nice enough, although I'm fond of the jeep, personally. Not as flash, but reliable and comfortable. And why would you buy a car before you got your license? Hey," she added. "I'm going into town. Want out of the Mansion for a bit?"
"It would be a symbol, I think." Manuel mused. "That I wish to pass my driving exam, and that to throw up roadblocks would be unwise." He sobered a bit, and then shook his head. "But you're right. If I buy it now, before I am permitted to pass the exam, it would be far too tempting a target. You say you're going out? And you want me to go with you? Is that permitted? You're a student."
"Road blocks? Permitted to pass the exam? Manuel, what are you on about?" Kitty was making her way over to the jeep, keys jangling lightly in her hand. "As for going out, don't see why it wouldn't be. You're not under house arrest anymore, far as I know. It's just into town for some groceries, although if you wanted to stop for coffee or a snack or something, that's cool, too." A quick press of a button from the keychain and the jeeps doors unlocked with a beep. Kitty loved that.
"It's very simple." Manuel explained, using the tones one uses with idiots or small children. "I wish to pass my driver's license exam, to have the freedom to get up and go when I wish and for as long as I wish. This cannot be permitted, as I am a student here, a danger to others, irresponsible - you hear the whispers as well as I do." He grinned suddenly as a feeling came over him. "But I feel rebellious. Let us, as you say, go out. I would love to get some coffee."
"Coffee it is, then. Hop in." Kitty suited action to words, climbing into the driver's seat herself and adjusting the seat far enough up that she could reach the peddles before fussing with the mirrors. When Manuel opened his door and could hear her she continued. "As for being a student here, it hasn't stopped any of the rest of us. Sure, there are probably bigots at the DMV who'd like to stop us getting any sort of rights cause we're mutants, but it'd be illeagal for them to do so."
"What is a DMV?" Manuel asked curiously as he belted himself into the shotgun seat. "And given the nature of my ability, attitude is something that does not distress me over-much," he added. "I will pay for the coffee, as compensation for the ride and the conversation."
Kitty shot him a look to see if he was joking. "Well, thank you for that," she said as she hit the garage door opener and started the car. "And the DMV. The Department of Motor Vehicles." She glanced over to see if this was regestering. "You know, where you got your permit? Manuel, you do have a permit, don't you?"
"A permit?" he said, already scowling as the full force of Kitty's emotions sunk into his brain. "I suspect that someone is playing a joke upon me. They will be made to understand that I do not take kindly to such things," he said almost in a growl. "I detest being mocked. Which means I spend much of my days here detesting my classmates, as I am often the source of ridicule."
Kitty was startled by the almost-anger in Manuel's voice. She eased out of the garage and put the car in park on the drive. Sighing, she turned to look at the boy. "Look, I'm mocking you, or playing a joke. I'm going to assume you honestly don't know what I'm
talking about, in which case I also assume Mr. Summer's does not know you don't have your permit. To get a driver's liscense, first you go to the local DMV and take a test on driving laws and are given a permit. In Chicago, where my liscense is from, you can get one at 14 and can get your liscense at 16, if you past your driver's test. The permit lets you drive under supervision of a liscensed adult, like Mr. Summers, to get practice so you can pass your driver's test when you go to take it." She tried to figure out if Manuel understood. "I would advise not letting Mr. Summers know you haven't got one, and getting one at the earliest opportunity. If you like, and have quick access to your passport and, um, I think Marie-Ange said she needed her international student card or something, we can go to the DMV now and, assuming you pass the test, get you your permit."
"You misunderstand. You have not earned my ire," he said. "Why does nobody TELL ME these things?" he said as he rolled his eyes to the heavens. "It's enough to make reasonable people turn into conspiracy theorists," he groused. "Then let us go to this DMV place so that I can gain my paperwork. I carry my documentation on me at all times - it is most convenient that way."
Kitty shrugged, putting the car back into drive and heading down the lane. "I assume no one mentioned it becasue they assumed you knew. Having your permit is listed as a requirement for taking driver's ed, and when Marie-Ange was working on getting hers there was a lot of discussion on the journals about what an international student needed to do it." She glanced over at Manuel, who still looked kind of cranky. "Um, I might suggest coffee first. The DMV is a horribly depressing and crank-causing place. Filled with beuracracy, mundanes, and waiting in lines."
Manuel nodded. "You know the situation better than I. I will listen to you," he said, clearly still not sounding too happy about things. "And I did not realize the permit situation, and nobody stopped me from enrolling. An oversight, I'm sure," he said with a sigh. "It is frustrating, not having an advocate and having to do this all myself."
Kitty nodded understandingly as she drove towards a nice coffee shop she knew that did good pastries and wasn't that out of the way to get to the DMV. Personally, she couldn't manage going anywhere near a government office in a bad mood - it would be intolerable. "I can imagine," she said. "Look, if you ever have questions about stuff like this, don't hesitate to ask. If you don't feel up to asking one of the teachers I'll be glad to try and help." Ms. Frost being gone and Shinobi having just left, she admitted to herself that Manuel was running out of people who would help him. And for stuff like knowing how to get an American driver's licsence Amanda couldn't really help.
"Here," she added, pulling into the parking lot and shutting the car off. "Well get a quick coffee and cake and then hit the DMV. We ought to miss the lunch rush here and make it to the DMV before the after work rush starts. That'll cut down on the lines and the wait."
Manuel nodded. "I appreciate this," he said, staring at her intently for a few moments. Apparently satisfied by whatever it was that he had seen, he walked into the coffee shop. "Do you think they'll have Turkish coffee?" he asked Kitty. He then squinted at the menuboard and absently rubbed something under his shirt. "Drat. Does not look like they do."
"No, but they've got excellent French pastries and cheese cake to die for." Stepping up to the counter she placed an order for said cake, as well as a double latte before turning to Manuel. "Do you know what you want?"
"I'll take a cappucino, as strong as they can make it, and one of those pieces of cheesecake that you feel are so good," he said pleasantly. "I'll go get us a table." He then dug into his wallet and withdrew a $50. After looking at it to be sure it was what he thought it was, he gave it to Kitty.
Kitty blinked slightly at the bill in her hand, then shrugged. "Have you got change for this?" she asked the girl behind the counter who had already run in Manuel's order.
"Yep, 'sokay." The girl passed the order for the coffee's down to the barrista by the steamer before pulling out the cheesecakes for them. "That's quite a catch you've got there," she added with a grin at Kitty.
"He is not my boyfriend," Kitty informed her, handing over the money and taking her change.
"Oh, well then. Can he be mine?"
Kitty rolled her eyes. "I suspect his girlfriend would not approve." Shaking her head with bemusement she took the two cakes over to the table Manuel had found, giving him his change. "They'll bring the coffee when it's ready."
Manuel smirked as Kitty walked up. "The girl at the counter is quite something," he said idly, settling back into his seat. "I saw that entire thing from here. Very funny, in a way," he added. "Not really my type, though. I like 'em slender and dark-haired."
"And sarcastic and Brittish or Asian, yes, I've noticed," Kitty said, blithely ignoring the fact that she technically fit the discription, too. "As for the counter girl, I think it was as much about the fifty as it was about you. I know far too many girls like her. Speaking of, though, here's your change." Leaning back in her chair she took up her fork and started on the cake.
Manuel scooped the change and shoved it into his pocket, not bothering to count it. "Exotic is good," he commented, then set to on his own cheesecake. "And I've known a hundred girls like her. Money-grubbing gold-diggers just looking for someone to buy them the nice things and the big rocks. They make wonderful pets," he added with a flourish.
Kitty shrugged. "I guess, if you've got the money and the patience to put up with their dullness. And I think you're being hard on her. I doubt she's so much money-grubbing as, well, poor." She looked back over to where the girl was back to work, cleaning off the esspresso cups while watching the latest pot of coffee brew. "She's probably been working a part time job since she was old enough to do it, trying to get enough to make up for what the scholarships won't cover, and the idea of having someone who will take care of you can be very appealing." Kitty's family weren't flush, certainly no where near Manuel's league, but they were well off enough that their daughter hadn't ever had to worry about money without being able (or wanting) to shelter her from the truth about life for thoes who didn't have it.
"I wasn't always wealthy," he said quietly. "I was the parasite preying on the bored and the rich for a while. Kept me with food and shelter and most likely kept me sane when my power was threatening to drive me utterly mad," he admitted. "So I know exactly what you're talking about."
Kitty nodded seriously, although the approach of said counter girl with their coffees kept her from responding. When the girl moved off she picked up her latte and blew over it, cooling it slightly before taking a drink. Changing the topic she said, "By the way, you have read the driver's ed book, right? The one with all the rules of the road? Cause that's all you really need to know to get your permit, but if you don't know it you won't pull it off."
"I have an eidetic memory," Manuel said matter-of-factly. "I don't forget. But yes, I've read it," he said, then sipped his espresso with an expression of distaste. "They call _this_ espresso?" he said with disgust. "More like the taste of Jubilee's sweatsocks." He then tossed it back as fast as he could without actually tasting much of it.
Kitty raised an eyebrow, doing her best not to think about why Manuel would know what Jubes' sweatsocks tasted of. It just wasn't her business. "Well, in that case you'll do fine. It's really a very easy test. The driving test is more difficult, but if you pay attention to Mr. Summers you'll do fine."
Manuel sighed. "Mr Summers truly does not like me. It's very distracting when that thread is sitting there pulsing at me," he said morosely. "You would think I would be used to that by now. I am not very good at making friends the human way."
"No, you're not," Kitty admitted, finishing off her cake before wrapping her hands around her cup again. There wasn't any point in lying to him about that, not when he knew it at better than anyone else could. "Do you know why?" What she really meant was 'why do you think that is?' but it sounded too much like something Samson would say.
Manuel leaned back in his chair. "Because very few people here appreicate the things I can do for them," he said after a moment's thought. "And I am trying to fit in, but it's hard here. Nobody behaves like I expect them to. I have spent many a night trying to puzzle out why someone does what they do. And it does not help that I did some very dumb things while I was trying to control my power. And it also does not help that it seems to be only good for hurting people most of the time."
Well, at least he hadn't said it was because they were afraid of him. It was the easy answer, and the least satisfying and least useful one. Kitty was glad he was actually thinking about the matter these days. "How do you expect them to behave? I mean," she clarified, "what do people do, or even just one person, that wasn't what you expect, and what did you expect. Maybe I can help." God knew she spent enough time trying to figure out her classmates' overly emotional reactions to life through her own overly analytical frame.
"Take your boyfriend Jamie. Where I come from, if he had done the things he does, to me and to others, he would at the very least be censured harshly for his actions, if not actually ruined," he said. "Unless he had a powerful patron to shield him from reprisals. And everyone here is so _rude_ - they use shortened forms of people's names, and they lack public respect for their betters."
"Well, as for Jamie, if you mean his pranks, he has been censured for one when... when it went to far. Essentially, when it made the other party uncomfortable. And yes," she added, holding up a hand, "I know you don't mean pranks when you're talking about how he is with you. But it's all sort of tied, in, I think. And to what you percieve as rudeness. Americans just don't really see it that way. There's less... I don't know, hierarchy and value placed on that sort of false show of respect. I mean, it's not always a false show, but we'd rather have the informality that comes from being able to trust and work together than the cold and distant formality." Cocking her head at him, she asked, "Does that make any sense?"
Manuel shook his head. "No," he admitted. "In private, friends may call friends whatever they wish. But in public, the forms _must_ observed. Surely, Katherine, you can see that?" he asked her. Why it was suddenly so absurdly important that she see his point of view he was not sure, but it was. So he intended to try. "People are not equal. Some are above others. It is the way of the world. Here, in the school, all of us students are equal, but the teachers outrank us. So we show them respect, in return they give us an education, opportunities to excel, to be noticed, to stand out from the crowd."
Kitty noticed the slight emphasis on her full name and shook her head right back at him. "Americans don't like admitting that people aren't equal. All men are created equal, and so on. And we show respect through our actions, not our words. I could call someone by an honorific title and not have half of the respect I have for Al, and part of that respect stems from the fact that she doesn't, and wouldn't, insist on some silly title just to emphasize the fact that she is older than me and is one of my teachers."
Manuel closed his eyes for a second. ~Americans!~ he cursed to himself, and not for the first time. "You make my point for me. I am not an American," he pointed out quite unnecessarily. "Your words _are_ actions," he pointed out.
That got a small smile out of Kitty. "No, you're not. Which could very well be why you're having so much trouble figuring out why people at school behave the way they do. And yes, words are a form of action. They are a form of action which can be most easily twisted and falsified, and performed with no meaning behind them."
Manuel rolled his eyes. "You are not telling me anything I do not already know," he pointed out. "There is a vital skill in picking out the twisted and the false from the sincere. One that I happen to be quite good at." When he used his power, which would be why his social skills were so terrible of late. But he didn't want to dwell on that fact. Not today, not now.
Kitty finished off her drink, setting the cup back down at last. "Yes, you are, but not all of us have your social training, or talents like yours and the professors to give us an edge. I'd far rather know straight out who is honestly fond of me and who is simply making mouths at me for the purpose of 'respect'..." The quote marks could practically be heard in her voice. "It's more honest."
"LIfe doesn't work out that way," he said plainly. "People are not straightforward. And people like myself of Headmaster Xavier are rare. It doesn't take a psi to cleave truth from lies," he pointed out helpfully. "All it takes is an awareness of human nature, and knowledge of the persons being discussed. Do you think that I am lying to you?" he asked her by way of an example.
"Not an accurate example, Manuel," Kitty replied. "It's factual information that you can learn to tell when someone is lying to you, and that psi talent is rare. So no, I don't think you're lying to me, but it's not relevant to whether or not there is an unnecessary amount of added... well, added chaff to wade through when everyone is going around being uselessly formal and polite all the time."
"It's not useless," Manuel protested. "After all, anyone can just come out and be rude. But to twist the knife in while keeping a smile on your face and the pleasant conversation going - now _that_ takes skill. My father is a master - or at least he used to be. King Juan Carlos is another." He, unfortunately, was not. "And what is so bad about formality? Sure, it may
take a little longer to say, but it's more pleasing to the ear, more correct by the rules of etiquette and protocol."
Kitty's eyes flashed and she scowled. "Then I hope I am never forced to meet either man," she said. "I have no desire to meet someone else who can smile at me, lie to me, and leave me broken inside." Oh, that came out more harshly than she'd meant. It was just that the way he talked about his father reminded her of how she had spoken of Essex once, and anything that reminded Kitty of Essex was likely to set her off. "There is nothing wrong with formality, but there's no purpose to it, either. Formality for it's own sake is useless."
Manuel sighed - he got that surge of emotion right between the eyes. "There's more to the story here then what you are telling me. Want to talk about it?" he asked her. "And do you want another coffee?"
She eyed the cup balefully, then nodded. "Yes, please." Reigning in her emtiontions as best she could (she had noticed that faint wince of his) she said, "As for the other... Well... Suffice to say, I have met one person who also had that skill you hold in such regard to be able to smile to your face and twist the knife. And he was always perfectly formal, and I wonder now if he ever said a true word in all the time I knew him." Which wasn't exactly true. More like she still occasionally went obsessively over every moment of their time together in her mind, trying to sift the truth fromt he false and the good from the bad, and she was never sure anymore if she got it right.
"Sounds like a well-brought-up man. So what did he do to tie you in knots so?" Manuel asked, trying to reassure her without using his power. "I'll give you a minute while I get coffee." He stood up to go wait in line to purchase the Java.
Kitty half snorted to herself. Well brought up indeed... By the time Manuel came back with the coffee Kitty was at least calmer. "This would be easier to explain if you knew the whole story, and you may already know part of it. What do you know about Dr. Nathaniel Essex?"
"The name means nothing to me," he confessed. "Should it?" He handed her her coffee with a smile, and settled back with another cup of espresso for himself.
Kitty accepted the mug with a nod of thanks, craddling it in her hands and lettingg it burn them slightly with it's warmth. Gazing into the cup she began, "He's the foremost genetiscist in the field of mutant genes as well as being a formidibly talented surgeon and, most relevently, he was a staff member at Xavier's for a little under a year, I believe. He was my tutor, both in genetics and in powers experimentation. Did you know that Ms. Braddock used to be blind?" she asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
Manuel shook his head. "I never knew Betsy," he admitted. "When I arrived and became conscious, it was only Kwannon." He clearly didn't like the reminder of Kwannon, and he scowled into his coffee cup before draining it down to the dregs. "GAAH! Still horrible," he complained.
That would have gotten him laughed at normally, but the best she could do now was a small, mirthless smile. "Yeah, well... Kwannon was Essex's fault," Kitty said rather flatly.
"Kwannon was Essex's fault?" Manuel said, clearly confused by this utterance on Kitty's part. "I'm afraid I don't quite follow how that is possible."
"It was the surgery she went through to get her sight back, surgery which Essex suggested and performed." Kitty still believed that the surgery had to happen, but the whole mess had become confused and cloudy in her mind. "Something went wrong, and I don't know enough about the issues involved to explain it better than this, but as a result, the Kwannon personality became a part of Ms. Braddock."
Manuel just stared at Kitty as if she had just grown a third head and propositioned him for a menage a trois with Lockheed. "That's quite a stretch." he said dubiously. "But I suppose that's the sort of thing I have to accept if I am going to have any chance at all to relating to my ... peers." he said, nearly choking on the last word.
Kitty shrugged, taking a swallow of her coffee. "I don't think most of them really know that, actually. It had to do with the discintegration of nerves, the close tie between her sight and her mutant powers, and the source of the organ replacements, I think. It was... it was complicated. And," she added, "it's not really the point. Actually, none of this was the point, was it? Shall we go get you your permit?"
Manuel shrugged and then nodded. "May as well." he said, standing up to dispose of his empties. "Thank you." he said, awkwardly. "It is not often when I am given a chance to just sit down and talk to someone." And Lord, how he'd _missed_ it. This was almost like taking siesta and talking with Alphonso's business partners about anything and everything.
"My pleasure," Kitty said, finishing off her own drink. And, surprisingly, it had been. The topic of their latest conversation still tended to upset her, but the fact that she could talk about it at all was a nice thing to know. Draining the cup she set it into the flatware bucket on their way out. "And now, to the DMV, last bastion of buracratic stupidity."
Manuel nodded, and worked on reinforcing his mental shielding. To do that, he had to spend most of the car ride there concentrating - obtaining the Void, and feeding his disquiet, his confusion, all his passions into the Flame until only he and his mental link to Amanda remained.
After three years of living at the mansion Kitty knew well enough to give a telepath mental 'space' when they got that thinking look on, and Manuel's gift was similar enough. When he had fallen silent she glanced over at him and noticed his concentration, then shored up her own mental blocks, keeping her thoughts and emotions as much out of the 'air' as she could. And it was easy with driving still being a fairly new thing to her - concentrating on the road gave her a focus.
It wasn't long, however, before they were pulling into the parking lot of the DMV. Kitty shut the car off and pulled out the keys, glancing over. "Ready?" she asked, quietly.
Manuel nodded. "As ready as I will ever be. The emotional atmosphere in there is toxic - I can sense it from here. But this needs doing, and I - well, I have no excuses. I was taught how to shield, and this should be an excellent test. If I start projecting, though, I'm going to need you to get me out of there. Do you think that you can do that for me?"
Kitty nodded. "Yes, of course. And if you need something to focus on that's, well, cleaner than all that, I have enough self control I can probably help."
Manuel shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but you've been friendly to me so far. That is too precious for me to risk it by using you as a crutch. But thank you." Settling his pride about him like a cloak, Manuel walked into the DMV with his chin held high.
Kitty nodded, not really understanding but accepting this, and followed Manuel in. She nodded to the woman standing uninterestedly behind the first desk and snagged copies of the forms he would need to fill out and a pen for him. "Fairly simple to begin with," she said. "Fill in the forms and take a number." Scanning the room she saw that they were in luck - her guess about getting in before the afternoon rush had been correct and there couldn't be more than six people in the place.
Manuel reached for something under his shirt, and then nodded. "No problem," he said, and snagged a pencil with a garish plastic flower on the end of it to begin filling out the forms. After about ten minutes, he stared at the form, then at Kitty. Then he turned back to the form.
Catching his hesitation, Kitty haded him the pen. "Here," she said. "They usually want these things in pen." She scanned over the form quickly, then pointed towards the address block. "That'll be Xavier's, not your home in Spain," she said, as though that had been why he paused. "And they'll want your full name, as well as your alien resident info." As she spoke she pointed casually to the respective blanks in the form.
Manuel followed her directions, hiding his relief that she was indeed not going to leave him to twist in the wind. "Do you know what this section is about?" he asked her, pointing to the second page of the form. The strain on his shields from just the emotional residue of this place was fast becoming annoying to have to deal with.
Scanning quickly over the form, Kitty nodded. "It's an affidavit that all the rest of the info is true. Just sign and date at the bottom, and then you're done with the forms."
Manuel did as instructed, taking great care to make his signature as legible and proud as a de la Rocha's should be. Finally, he then looked at Kitty somewhat blankly. "Now what? Who takes this form?" he asked her, unwilling to admit verbally that he had no idea what was going on here.
Kitty nodded to the frumpy looking woman standing behind the counter and pointedly ignoring them in the way of all good government workers. As he handed the forms over Kitty snagged a number out of the machine and said, "Here. Looks like you're number 206, and I think they just called 201 so we won't have to wait that long. Let's take a seat." She scowled in the general direction of the uncomfortable looking chairs.
Manuel nodded, and then sank into the chair. "There's a lot of frustration in here." he said quietly. "A whole lot of it." He was resolved to wait without fidgeting and without letting the environment destroy his mood. He would not show weakness before Katherine.
"Yes," Kitty nodded, watching as an old man who really probably wasn't even safe to drive anymore headed up to answer the call for 202. "It's a staple of the American experience - frustration and aggravation with our government offices. And the DMV is one of the worst."
Manuel checked - yep, she was right. Aggrivation, too. "I can see it. It soaks this place." he added. "Would it be wrong of me to admit that I am tempted to see if I can nudge myself to the top of the queue?"
"Not wrong to admit it," Kitty said, "but wrong to do it. That's a lot of what the frustration is, really. Government offices keep awkward hours, and the DMV is oen pretty much everyone ends up in, sooner or later. But between schedule wrangling and the fact that everyone has the same free hours - lunch break, before and after work - means that sometimes it can take four or five trips to actually get to do what you need to do, and hours wasted." 203 was called, but seemingly in illustration of Kitty's point whoever it was had already left, unable to wait or possibly only having stepped out for a smoke to come back and curse themself later for missing their number. However, 204 was quick to take their place, which was promising, but one of the staff was going on a break, which wasn't.
"You surprise me again." Manuel admitted. "Usually saying something like that is grounds for at least a half-hour lecture on the Proper and Ethical Use of Mutant Abilities. I could probably recite it to you in my sleep I've heard it so many times," he said with amusement. "This is dull," he complained.
"Ah, but I managed to condense the entire lecture down into two ideas. One - thinking about and wanting to do things is not a sin. Two - acting on thoes impulses is." She counted them off on her fingers, then grinned at Manuel. "And yes, it is dull. Normally people bring books, or newspapers, or people to talk to - that'd be me - or they sit and grouse and stew in their frustration."
Manuel laughed. He actually laughed. "Your critique is noted and appreciated," he said, grinning. "My day has been quite dull, and I have very little idea what you find interesting to discuss," he admitted. "I am not much of a scientist."
"Many of my friends are not one with the higher scientists, but that doesn't stop us. Although it does provide a resonable starting point. How are your classes going?" Number 204 seemed to be having some deep and highly argumentative discussion with the lady behind the desk, and 207 had just settled down into a chair behind them, pulling out some knitting.
"Tolerably well this term," he said with a grin. "International Affairs is a great class, even though Nathan is teaching it and he really does not like me at _all_," he said. "Economics is fascinating, and Clarice wants to form a fencing club. Could be fun, even if all the competitive stuff is on rails. Still - it would be nice to cross a blade in sport."
"Seems like almost everybody has a thing for blades these days," Kitty mused. "Almost wants me to give it a shot, although I must admit I don't think swords are really my style." It seemed as though 204 had finally finished bickering and 205 was called, as 208, 209 and 210 came in in quick succession, glaring at each other as the wrangled for the pens at the sign in desk.
"I have had, as you put it, a thing for blades since I was old enough to hold one without dropping it," Manuel said. "It was customary for young men in my family to learn something of the gentlemanly arts - music, dance, swordsmanship, courtship, things like that," he said, lost in the haze of memory for a while. He returned to reality with a sharp blink. "None of that means anything here, though."
"I wouldn't say it means nothing," Kitty argued. "It means you are multi-talented, and shows you are capable of learning a variety of skills. The fact that you can intermix your skills - dancing like a fencer, for example - proves you're clever and intelligent. It definitely means something, just not the same things it meant in Spain."
Manuel shrugged that off. "No one _cares_, though. I have spent much of my life honing my skills, and then when I came here, I learned that they don't mean anything. So I can dance, so what? Doesn't impress anyone, doesn't earn me any slack. I fence, yes, and that gives me something to do in my free time. I enjoy music, and am taking the music class, but there's no clubs nearby where I can play. I may be multi-talented, but they're all the wrong talents. Here, you have to be friendly. You have to have a sense of humor, be able to laugh at your own humiliations, or at the jokes of others. You have to _get along_ with people you never would have looked at in your old life."
Kitty frowned. "You said you learned courtship? That's all making friends is, you know, courting them, only there's less sex involved. Seriously, Manuel," she said. "I know you know how to be charming and witty. I've seen you do it. You just chose a very select group to do it to, which is fine. It's a choice. But, it's not a choice that will win you a lot of friends. If that's what you want, then more power to you. If that's not what you want, then stop griping and do something about it. You're a smart guy so I'm not sure what's stoping you." She considered him closely. "Yes, there are things, like this," she said with a wave around the room, "that you don't know. But this is also proof that when you ask, when you admit you don't know it, you can get help."
Manuel smiled softly. "And where I come from, if you admit that much weakness you are basically putting yourself into their control for the foreseeable future. I have been owned once, I did not care for the experience," he said, voice full of a terrible pride. "I know, intellectually, that things are different here - that my classmates do not play status games, that there is very little jockeying for position. I made a very poor first impression, but I was insane for my first few months here. My power was out of control."
"Yes, but what's your excuse now?" Kitty smiled, then blinked as the number board flashed. "Or rather, hold that thought. You're up."
She lead him to the desk with the waiting official, this time a bored looking man in his mid fourties who was clearly stuck in a dead end job and knew it. The official glanced curiously at Kitty as he took the form from Manuel.
"I'm just here to help him," she said. "The forms all correct."
The man nodded, scanning over it. "Looks fine. The test machines are all in use. Sit over there," he nodded to an entirely different waiting section, "and you'll be next."
Manuel wandered over to the appointed area, and sat down in front of the all-new all-different waiting area. "This grows tedious," he grumbled under his breath. Looking at Kitty, he shrugged. "I don't need an excuse for being myself, do I? Not anymore, anyway. My old excuse was how I used to shield - to keep everyone else out, I had to focus in on you - just as an example. And my excuse now, as you put it, is that the damage is done. Getting people to reassess a first impression without compelling it is difficult."
"Grows tedious? It started tedious." Kitty smiled, then arched an eyebrow. "So you're saying you just don't feel up to the challenge of getting them to change their minds?"
"It's not a question of being up to the challenge, it's a question of the challenge even being _possible_. To preserve my position, such as it is, I refrain from actively scanning my classmates. Without my power, it seems that I am not very persuasive. I got used to using it as a crutch, it would seem. I'm having to relearn interactions all over again, or so Samson tells me."
"Ah, a double challenge, then. Good thing you're up for it, cause I think it is possible." Kitty smiled, then caught the eye of the man behind the desk who was nodding at them. "Oh, looks like you're up. You go where he tells you and take a test on rules of the road. If New York is as up to date as Chicago was it'll be on the computer. If you pass the test they'll give you an eye test and you'll get your permit. Good luck."
Manuel wandered over to where the DMV employee was waiting for him and took his test. The test took perhaps ten minutes of his time. Then he wandered back over to where Kitty was sitting to wait for them to score it. "Even if it is possible, it will take _time_, and each blown conversation makes it that much harder to recover without my power. You begin to see the difficulty, yes? It is a negative feedback loop."
As Manuel aproached Kitty stood up, meeting him half way and heading over to the desk where one of the office workers was nodding at them - the joys of electronic scoring. "Not necessarily," Kitty disagreed. "Cause it's not linear, is it? One good conversation can go farther than one messed up one, and the inverse can be true."
"You only missed four," the man behind the desk said, "so you're good to go. Can you please look into here?" He gestured to the eye test machine.
Now she'd lost him entirely. He put his face into the eye exam machine, suddenly very glad that they weren't expecting him to distinguish colors. That always went badly, as he knew now that his color vision was different from most folks. But the eye exam went flawlessly.
"Very good, that's fine." Turning to his computer the man started typing, filling in blanks on the screen. "Please stand there," he said, pointing at a clear white space on the wall with a camera pointed at it. Manuel moved and the moment he was properly placed the man took the picture, coming out with a classically bad picture. "Very well. Hold on, please. This will print out and then you'll be done." Before either of the teenagers could say anything the man had disappeared into the back room.
Manuel waited for his learner's permit to print out, then grabbed it from the drone and looked at it. "It takes _talent_ to make someone like me look this bad." he said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm of half a mind to insist they do it again, and this time to _focus_ the camera."
The man simply said, "Please sign the back, sir," cooly, ignoring Manuel's comments.
Kitty grinned. "It's traditional. All photos the government arranges to have taken will look horrible. The world would end if someone had a good driver's picture. If they focused it they would just over expose the whole thing, or something."
Manuel signed the back of the card with a flourish, then looked at the man. "Are you finished?" he said, the picture of icy arrogance for just a second.
"You're done, yes," the man said, unimpressed. "Next!"
"Come on," Kitty said. "Let's get out of here."
Manuel stood in the garage, looking at the assembled might of the Mansion's automotive fleet with something akin to naked envy. He was fairly sure that his driving lessons would end in failure, even though he felt that his skills were up to snuff. He had a feel for the road now, and a feel for how driving one'e self around could be liberating. Even fun, although he hid that from even Amanda. If you let people know what you found fun, then they could take it away from you. And he was in no position to defend his interests and hobbies from anyone.
Kitty was humming the major theme from the latest piece they were working on in her private dance lessons as she snagged the keys to the jeep off their peg. The latest meal she'd made for Lockheed had proved how bare the supply of dragon food (meat, meat, and a little more meat with a side of whatever else happened to be in the fridge) was becoming. She was briefly grateful again that her father hadn't asked questions when she'd asked for an increase in her allowence (if they were allowed to get divorced without telling her she could have a pet, even a pet dragon, without telling them) as she headed into the garage. Partway through the door she spotted Manuel.
"Oh, hey," she called out. "What's up, Manuel?"
Manuel felt Kitty's approach, so he didn't start when she spoke. "Just - looking," he said defensively. "I have another driving lesson tomorrow. I was thinking of what kind of car I should buy. I had my eye on this Jaguar convertible - a gorgeous piece of equipment. A shame I shall not be permitted to drive it on my own," he added.
Kitty eyed the Jag. "Nice enough, although I'm fond of the jeep, personally. Not as flash, but reliable and comfortable. And why would you buy a car before you got your license? Hey," she added. "I'm going into town. Want out of the Mansion for a bit?"
"It would be a symbol, I think." Manuel mused. "That I wish to pass my driving exam, and that to throw up roadblocks would be unwise." He sobered a bit, and then shook his head. "But you're right. If I buy it now, before I am permitted to pass the exam, it would be far too tempting a target. You say you're going out? And you want me to go with you? Is that permitted? You're a student."
"Road blocks? Permitted to pass the exam? Manuel, what are you on about?" Kitty was making her way over to the jeep, keys jangling lightly in her hand. "As for going out, don't see why it wouldn't be. You're not under house arrest anymore, far as I know. It's just into town for some groceries, although if you wanted to stop for coffee or a snack or something, that's cool, too." A quick press of a button from the keychain and the jeeps doors unlocked with a beep. Kitty loved that.
"It's very simple." Manuel explained, using the tones one uses with idiots or small children. "I wish to pass my driver's license exam, to have the freedom to get up and go when I wish and for as long as I wish. This cannot be permitted, as I am a student here, a danger to others, irresponsible - you hear the whispers as well as I do." He grinned suddenly as a feeling came over him. "But I feel rebellious. Let us, as you say, go out. I would love to get some coffee."
"Coffee it is, then. Hop in." Kitty suited action to words, climbing into the driver's seat herself and adjusting the seat far enough up that she could reach the peddles before fussing with the mirrors. When Manuel opened his door and could hear her she continued. "As for being a student here, it hasn't stopped any of the rest of us. Sure, there are probably bigots at the DMV who'd like to stop us getting any sort of rights cause we're mutants, but it'd be illeagal for them to do so."
"What is a DMV?" Manuel asked curiously as he belted himself into the shotgun seat. "And given the nature of my ability, attitude is something that does not distress me over-much," he added. "I will pay for the coffee, as compensation for the ride and the conversation."
Kitty shot him a look to see if he was joking. "Well, thank you for that," she said as she hit the garage door opener and started the car. "And the DMV. The Department of Motor Vehicles." She glanced over to see if this was regestering. "You know, where you got your permit? Manuel, you do have a permit, don't you?"
"A permit?" he said, already scowling as the full force of Kitty's emotions sunk into his brain. "I suspect that someone is playing a joke upon me. They will be made to understand that I do not take kindly to such things," he said almost in a growl. "I detest being mocked. Which means I spend much of my days here detesting my classmates, as I am often the source of ridicule."
Kitty was startled by the almost-anger in Manuel's voice. She eased out of the garage and put the car in park on the drive. Sighing, she turned to look at the boy. "Look, I'm mocking you, or playing a joke. I'm going to assume you honestly don't know what I'm
talking about, in which case I also assume Mr. Summer's does not know you don't have your permit. To get a driver's liscense, first you go to the local DMV and take a test on driving laws and are given a permit. In Chicago, where my liscense is from, you can get one at 14 and can get your liscense at 16, if you past your driver's test. The permit lets you drive under supervision of a liscensed adult, like Mr. Summers, to get practice so you can pass your driver's test when you go to take it." She tried to figure out if Manuel understood. "I would advise not letting Mr. Summers know you haven't got one, and getting one at the earliest opportunity. If you like, and have quick access to your passport and, um, I think Marie-Ange said she needed her international student card or something, we can go to the DMV now and, assuming you pass the test, get you your permit."
"You misunderstand. You have not earned my ire," he said. "Why does nobody TELL ME these things?" he said as he rolled his eyes to the heavens. "It's enough to make reasonable people turn into conspiracy theorists," he groused. "Then let us go to this DMV place so that I can gain my paperwork. I carry my documentation on me at all times - it is most convenient that way."
Kitty shrugged, putting the car back into drive and heading down the lane. "I assume no one mentioned it becasue they assumed you knew. Having your permit is listed as a requirement for taking driver's ed, and when Marie-Ange was working on getting hers there was a lot of discussion on the journals about what an international student needed to do it." She glanced over at Manuel, who still looked kind of cranky. "Um, I might suggest coffee first. The DMV is a horribly depressing and crank-causing place. Filled with beuracracy, mundanes, and waiting in lines."
Manuel nodded. "You know the situation better than I. I will listen to you," he said, clearly still not sounding too happy about things. "And I did not realize the permit situation, and nobody stopped me from enrolling. An oversight, I'm sure," he said with a sigh. "It is frustrating, not having an advocate and having to do this all myself."
Kitty nodded understandingly as she drove towards a nice coffee shop she knew that did good pastries and wasn't that out of the way to get to the DMV. Personally, she couldn't manage going anywhere near a government office in a bad mood - it would be intolerable. "I can imagine," she said. "Look, if you ever have questions about stuff like this, don't hesitate to ask. If you don't feel up to asking one of the teachers I'll be glad to try and help." Ms. Frost being gone and Shinobi having just left, she admitted to herself that Manuel was running out of people who would help him. And for stuff like knowing how to get an American driver's licsence Amanda couldn't really help.
"Here," she added, pulling into the parking lot and shutting the car off. "Well get a quick coffee and cake and then hit the DMV. We ought to miss the lunch rush here and make it to the DMV before the after work rush starts. That'll cut down on the lines and the wait."
Manuel nodded. "I appreciate this," he said, staring at her intently for a few moments. Apparently satisfied by whatever it was that he had seen, he walked into the coffee shop. "Do you think they'll have Turkish coffee?" he asked Kitty. He then squinted at the menuboard and absently rubbed something under his shirt. "Drat. Does not look like they do."
"No, but they've got excellent French pastries and cheese cake to die for." Stepping up to the counter she placed an order for said cake, as well as a double latte before turning to Manuel. "Do you know what you want?"
"I'll take a cappucino, as strong as they can make it, and one of those pieces of cheesecake that you feel are so good," he said pleasantly. "I'll go get us a table." He then dug into his wallet and withdrew a $50. After looking at it to be sure it was what he thought it was, he gave it to Kitty.
Kitty blinked slightly at the bill in her hand, then shrugged. "Have you got change for this?" she asked the girl behind the counter who had already run in Manuel's order.
"Yep, 'sokay." The girl passed the order for the coffee's down to the barrista by the steamer before pulling out the cheesecakes for them. "That's quite a catch you've got there," she added with a grin at Kitty.
"He is not my boyfriend," Kitty informed her, handing over the money and taking her change.
"Oh, well then. Can he be mine?"
Kitty rolled her eyes. "I suspect his girlfriend would not approve." Shaking her head with bemusement she took the two cakes over to the table Manuel had found, giving him his change. "They'll bring the coffee when it's ready."
Manuel smirked as Kitty walked up. "The girl at the counter is quite something," he said idly, settling back into his seat. "I saw that entire thing from here. Very funny, in a way," he added. "Not really my type, though. I like 'em slender and dark-haired."
"And sarcastic and Brittish or Asian, yes, I've noticed," Kitty said, blithely ignoring the fact that she technically fit the discription, too. "As for the counter girl, I think it was as much about the fifty as it was about you. I know far too many girls like her. Speaking of, though, here's your change." Leaning back in her chair she took up her fork and started on the cake.
Manuel scooped the change and shoved it into his pocket, not bothering to count it. "Exotic is good," he commented, then set to on his own cheesecake. "And I've known a hundred girls like her. Money-grubbing gold-diggers just looking for someone to buy them the nice things and the big rocks. They make wonderful pets," he added with a flourish.
Kitty shrugged. "I guess, if you've got the money and the patience to put up with their dullness. And I think you're being hard on her. I doubt she's so much money-grubbing as, well, poor." She looked back over to where the girl was back to work, cleaning off the esspresso cups while watching the latest pot of coffee brew. "She's probably been working a part time job since she was old enough to do it, trying to get enough to make up for what the scholarships won't cover, and the idea of having someone who will take care of you can be very appealing." Kitty's family weren't flush, certainly no where near Manuel's league, but they were well off enough that their daughter hadn't ever had to worry about money without being able (or wanting) to shelter her from the truth about life for thoes who didn't have it.
"I wasn't always wealthy," he said quietly. "I was the parasite preying on the bored and the rich for a while. Kept me with food and shelter and most likely kept me sane when my power was threatening to drive me utterly mad," he admitted. "So I know exactly what you're talking about."
Kitty nodded seriously, although the approach of said counter girl with their coffees kept her from responding. When the girl moved off she picked up her latte and blew over it, cooling it slightly before taking a drink. Changing the topic she said, "By the way, you have read the driver's ed book, right? The one with all the rules of the road? Cause that's all you really need to know to get your permit, but if you don't know it you won't pull it off."
"I have an eidetic memory," Manuel said matter-of-factly. "I don't forget. But yes, I've read it," he said, then sipped his espresso with an expression of distaste. "They call _this_ espresso?" he said with disgust. "More like the taste of Jubilee's sweatsocks." He then tossed it back as fast as he could without actually tasting much of it.
Kitty raised an eyebrow, doing her best not to think about why Manuel would know what Jubes' sweatsocks tasted of. It just wasn't her business. "Well, in that case you'll do fine. It's really a very easy test. The driving test is more difficult, but if you pay attention to Mr. Summers you'll do fine."
Manuel sighed. "Mr Summers truly does not like me. It's very distracting when that thread is sitting there pulsing at me," he said morosely. "You would think I would be used to that by now. I am not very good at making friends the human way."
"No, you're not," Kitty admitted, finishing off her cake before wrapping her hands around her cup again. There wasn't any point in lying to him about that, not when he knew it at better than anyone else could. "Do you know why?" What she really meant was 'why do you think that is?' but it sounded too much like something Samson would say.
Manuel leaned back in his chair. "Because very few people here appreicate the things I can do for them," he said after a moment's thought. "And I am trying to fit in, but it's hard here. Nobody behaves like I expect them to. I have spent many a night trying to puzzle out why someone does what they do. And it does not help that I did some very dumb things while I was trying to control my power. And it also does not help that it seems to be only good for hurting people most of the time."
Well, at least he hadn't said it was because they were afraid of him. It was the easy answer, and the least satisfying and least useful one. Kitty was glad he was actually thinking about the matter these days. "How do you expect them to behave? I mean," she clarified, "what do people do, or even just one person, that wasn't what you expect, and what did you expect. Maybe I can help." God knew she spent enough time trying to figure out her classmates' overly emotional reactions to life through her own overly analytical frame.
"Take your boyfriend Jamie. Where I come from, if he had done the things he does, to me and to others, he would at the very least be censured harshly for his actions, if not actually ruined," he said. "Unless he had a powerful patron to shield him from reprisals. And everyone here is so _rude_ - they use shortened forms of people's names, and they lack public respect for their betters."
"Well, as for Jamie, if you mean his pranks, he has been censured for one when... when it went to far. Essentially, when it made the other party uncomfortable. And yes," she added, holding up a hand, "I know you don't mean pranks when you're talking about how he is with you. But it's all sort of tied, in, I think. And to what you percieve as rudeness. Americans just don't really see it that way. There's less... I don't know, hierarchy and value placed on that sort of false show of respect. I mean, it's not always a false show, but we'd rather have the informality that comes from being able to trust and work together than the cold and distant formality." Cocking her head at him, she asked, "Does that make any sense?"
Manuel shook his head. "No," he admitted. "In private, friends may call friends whatever they wish. But in public, the forms _must_ observed. Surely, Katherine, you can see that?" he asked her. Why it was suddenly so absurdly important that she see his point of view he was not sure, but it was. So he intended to try. "People are not equal. Some are above others. It is the way of the world. Here, in the school, all of us students are equal, but the teachers outrank us. So we show them respect, in return they give us an education, opportunities to excel, to be noticed, to stand out from the crowd."
Kitty noticed the slight emphasis on her full name and shook her head right back at him. "Americans don't like admitting that people aren't equal. All men are created equal, and so on. And we show respect through our actions, not our words. I could call someone by an honorific title and not have half of the respect I have for Al, and part of that respect stems from the fact that she doesn't, and wouldn't, insist on some silly title just to emphasize the fact that she is older than me and is one of my teachers."
Manuel closed his eyes for a second. ~Americans!~ he cursed to himself, and not for the first time. "You make my point for me. I am not an American," he pointed out quite unnecessarily. "Your words _are_ actions," he pointed out.
That got a small smile out of Kitty. "No, you're not. Which could very well be why you're having so much trouble figuring out why people at school behave the way they do. And yes, words are a form of action. They are a form of action which can be most easily twisted and falsified, and performed with no meaning behind them."
Manuel rolled his eyes. "You are not telling me anything I do not already know," he pointed out. "There is a vital skill in picking out the twisted and the false from the sincere. One that I happen to be quite good at." When he used his power, which would be why his social skills were so terrible of late. But he didn't want to dwell on that fact. Not today, not now.
Kitty finished off her drink, setting the cup back down at last. "Yes, you are, but not all of us have your social training, or talents like yours and the professors to give us an edge. I'd far rather know straight out who is honestly fond of me and who is simply making mouths at me for the purpose of 'respect'..." The quote marks could practically be heard in her voice. "It's more honest."
"LIfe doesn't work out that way," he said plainly. "People are not straightforward. And people like myself of Headmaster Xavier are rare. It doesn't take a psi to cleave truth from lies," he pointed out helpfully. "All it takes is an awareness of human nature, and knowledge of the persons being discussed. Do you think that I am lying to you?" he asked her by way of an example.
"Not an accurate example, Manuel," Kitty replied. "It's factual information that you can learn to tell when someone is lying to you, and that psi talent is rare. So no, I don't think you're lying to me, but it's not relevant to whether or not there is an unnecessary amount of added... well, added chaff to wade through when everyone is going around being uselessly formal and polite all the time."
"It's not useless," Manuel protested. "After all, anyone can just come out and be rude. But to twist the knife in while keeping a smile on your face and the pleasant conversation going - now _that_ takes skill. My father is a master - or at least he used to be. King Juan Carlos is another." He, unfortunately, was not. "And what is so bad about formality? Sure, it may
take a little longer to say, but it's more pleasing to the ear, more correct by the rules of etiquette and protocol."
Kitty's eyes flashed and she scowled. "Then I hope I am never forced to meet either man," she said. "I have no desire to meet someone else who can smile at me, lie to me, and leave me broken inside." Oh, that came out more harshly than she'd meant. It was just that the way he talked about his father reminded her of how she had spoken of Essex once, and anything that reminded Kitty of Essex was likely to set her off. "There is nothing wrong with formality, but there's no purpose to it, either. Formality for it's own sake is useless."
Manuel sighed - he got that surge of emotion right between the eyes. "There's more to the story here then what you are telling me. Want to talk about it?" he asked her. "And do you want another coffee?"
She eyed the cup balefully, then nodded. "Yes, please." Reigning in her emtiontions as best she could (she had noticed that faint wince of his) she said, "As for the other... Well... Suffice to say, I have met one person who also had that skill you hold in such regard to be able to smile to your face and twist the knife. And he was always perfectly formal, and I wonder now if he ever said a true word in all the time I knew him." Which wasn't exactly true. More like she still occasionally went obsessively over every moment of their time together in her mind, trying to sift the truth fromt he false and the good from the bad, and she was never sure anymore if she got it right.
"Sounds like a well-brought-up man. So what did he do to tie you in knots so?" Manuel asked, trying to reassure her without using his power. "I'll give you a minute while I get coffee." He stood up to go wait in line to purchase the Java.
Kitty half snorted to herself. Well brought up indeed... By the time Manuel came back with the coffee Kitty was at least calmer. "This would be easier to explain if you knew the whole story, and you may already know part of it. What do you know about Dr. Nathaniel Essex?"
"The name means nothing to me," he confessed. "Should it?" He handed her her coffee with a smile, and settled back with another cup of espresso for himself.
Kitty accepted the mug with a nod of thanks, craddling it in her hands and lettingg it burn them slightly with it's warmth. Gazing into the cup she began, "He's the foremost genetiscist in the field of mutant genes as well as being a formidibly talented surgeon and, most relevently, he was a staff member at Xavier's for a little under a year, I believe. He was my tutor, both in genetics and in powers experimentation. Did you know that Ms. Braddock used to be blind?" she asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
Manuel shook his head. "I never knew Betsy," he admitted. "When I arrived and became conscious, it was only Kwannon." He clearly didn't like the reminder of Kwannon, and he scowled into his coffee cup before draining it down to the dregs. "GAAH! Still horrible," he complained.
That would have gotten him laughed at normally, but the best she could do now was a small, mirthless smile. "Yeah, well... Kwannon was Essex's fault," Kitty said rather flatly.
"Kwannon was Essex's fault?" Manuel said, clearly confused by this utterance on Kitty's part. "I'm afraid I don't quite follow how that is possible."
"It was the surgery she went through to get her sight back, surgery which Essex suggested and performed." Kitty still believed that the surgery had to happen, but the whole mess had become confused and cloudy in her mind. "Something went wrong, and I don't know enough about the issues involved to explain it better than this, but as a result, the Kwannon personality became a part of Ms. Braddock."
Manuel just stared at Kitty as if she had just grown a third head and propositioned him for a menage a trois with Lockheed. "That's quite a stretch." he said dubiously. "But I suppose that's the sort of thing I have to accept if I am going to have any chance at all to relating to my ... peers." he said, nearly choking on the last word.
Kitty shrugged, taking a swallow of her coffee. "I don't think most of them really know that, actually. It had to do with the discintegration of nerves, the close tie between her sight and her mutant powers, and the source of the organ replacements, I think. It was... it was complicated. And," she added, "it's not really the point. Actually, none of this was the point, was it? Shall we go get you your permit?"
Manuel shrugged and then nodded. "May as well." he said, standing up to dispose of his empties. "Thank you." he said, awkwardly. "It is not often when I am given a chance to just sit down and talk to someone." And Lord, how he'd _missed_ it. This was almost like taking siesta and talking with Alphonso's business partners about anything and everything.
"My pleasure," Kitty said, finishing off her own drink. And, surprisingly, it had been. The topic of their latest conversation still tended to upset her, but the fact that she could talk about it at all was a nice thing to know. Draining the cup she set it into the flatware bucket on their way out. "And now, to the DMV, last bastion of buracratic stupidity."
Manuel nodded, and worked on reinforcing his mental shielding. To do that, he had to spend most of the car ride there concentrating - obtaining the Void, and feeding his disquiet, his confusion, all his passions into the Flame until only he and his mental link to Amanda remained.
After three years of living at the mansion Kitty knew well enough to give a telepath mental 'space' when they got that thinking look on, and Manuel's gift was similar enough. When he had fallen silent she glanced over at him and noticed his concentration, then shored up her own mental blocks, keeping her thoughts and emotions as much out of the 'air' as she could. And it was easy with driving still being a fairly new thing to her - concentrating on the road gave her a focus.
It wasn't long, however, before they were pulling into the parking lot of the DMV. Kitty shut the car off and pulled out the keys, glancing over. "Ready?" she asked, quietly.
Manuel nodded. "As ready as I will ever be. The emotional atmosphere in there is toxic - I can sense it from here. But this needs doing, and I - well, I have no excuses. I was taught how to shield, and this should be an excellent test. If I start projecting, though, I'm going to need you to get me out of there. Do you think that you can do that for me?"
Kitty nodded. "Yes, of course. And if you need something to focus on that's, well, cleaner than all that, I have enough self control I can probably help."
Manuel shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but you've been friendly to me so far. That is too precious for me to risk it by using you as a crutch. But thank you." Settling his pride about him like a cloak, Manuel walked into the DMV with his chin held high.
Kitty nodded, not really understanding but accepting this, and followed Manuel in. She nodded to the woman standing uninterestedly behind the first desk and snagged copies of the forms he would need to fill out and a pen for him. "Fairly simple to begin with," she said. "Fill in the forms and take a number." Scanning the room she saw that they were in luck - her guess about getting in before the afternoon rush had been correct and there couldn't be more than six people in the place.
Manuel reached for something under his shirt, and then nodded. "No problem," he said, and snagged a pencil with a garish plastic flower on the end of it to begin filling out the forms. After about ten minutes, he stared at the form, then at Kitty. Then he turned back to the form.
Catching his hesitation, Kitty haded him the pen. "Here," she said. "They usually want these things in pen." She scanned over the form quickly, then pointed towards the address block. "That'll be Xavier's, not your home in Spain," she said, as though that had been why he paused. "And they'll want your full name, as well as your alien resident info." As she spoke she pointed casually to the respective blanks in the form.
Manuel followed her directions, hiding his relief that she was indeed not going to leave him to twist in the wind. "Do you know what this section is about?" he asked her, pointing to the second page of the form. The strain on his shields from just the emotional residue of this place was fast becoming annoying to have to deal with.
Scanning quickly over the form, Kitty nodded. "It's an affidavit that all the rest of the info is true. Just sign and date at the bottom, and then you're done with the forms."
Manuel did as instructed, taking great care to make his signature as legible and proud as a de la Rocha's should be. Finally, he then looked at Kitty somewhat blankly. "Now what? Who takes this form?" he asked her, unwilling to admit verbally that he had no idea what was going on here.
Kitty nodded to the frumpy looking woman standing behind the counter and pointedly ignoring them in the way of all good government workers. As he handed the forms over Kitty snagged a number out of the machine and said, "Here. Looks like you're number 206, and I think they just called 201 so we won't have to wait that long. Let's take a seat." She scowled in the general direction of the uncomfortable looking chairs.
Manuel nodded, and then sank into the chair. "There's a lot of frustration in here." he said quietly. "A whole lot of it." He was resolved to wait without fidgeting and without letting the environment destroy his mood. He would not show weakness before Katherine.
"Yes," Kitty nodded, watching as an old man who really probably wasn't even safe to drive anymore headed up to answer the call for 202. "It's a staple of the American experience - frustration and aggravation with our government offices. And the DMV is one of the worst."
Manuel checked - yep, she was right. Aggrivation, too. "I can see it. It soaks this place." he added. "Would it be wrong of me to admit that I am tempted to see if I can nudge myself to the top of the queue?"
"Not wrong to admit it," Kitty said, "but wrong to do it. That's a lot of what the frustration is, really. Government offices keep awkward hours, and the DMV is oen pretty much everyone ends up in, sooner or later. But between schedule wrangling and the fact that everyone has the same free hours - lunch break, before and after work - means that sometimes it can take four or five trips to actually get to do what you need to do, and hours wasted." 203 was called, but seemingly in illustration of Kitty's point whoever it was had already left, unable to wait or possibly only having stepped out for a smoke to come back and curse themself later for missing their number. However, 204 was quick to take their place, which was promising, but one of the staff was going on a break, which wasn't.
"You surprise me again." Manuel admitted. "Usually saying something like that is grounds for at least a half-hour lecture on the Proper and Ethical Use of Mutant Abilities. I could probably recite it to you in my sleep I've heard it so many times," he said with amusement. "This is dull," he complained.
"Ah, but I managed to condense the entire lecture down into two ideas. One - thinking about and wanting to do things is not a sin. Two - acting on thoes impulses is." She counted them off on her fingers, then grinned at Manuel. "And yes, it is dull. Normally people bring books, or newspapers, or people to talk to - that'd be me - or they sit and grouse and stew in their frustration."
Manuel laughed. He actually laughed. "Your critique is noted and appreciated," he said, grinning. "My day has been quite dull, and I have very little idea what you find interesting to discuss," he admitted. "I am not much of a scientist."
"Many of my friends are not one with the higher scientists, but that doesn't stop us. Although it does provide a resonable starting point. How are your classes going?" Number 204 seemed to be having some deep and highly argumentative discussion with the lady behind the desk, and 207 had just settled down into a chair behind them, pulling out some knitting.
"Tolerably well this term," he said with a grin. "International Affairs is a great class, even though Nathan is teaching it and he really does not like me at _all_," he said. "Economics is fascinating, and Clarice wants to form a fencing club. Could be fun, even if all the competitive stuff is on rails. Still - it would be nice to cross a blade in sport."
"Seems like almost everybody has a thing for blades these days," Kitty mused. "Almost wants me to give it a shot, although I must admit I don't think swords are really my style." It seemed as though 204 had finally finished bickering and 205 was called, as 208, 209 and 210 came in in quick succession, glaring at each other as the wrangled for the pens at the sign in desk.
"I have had, as you put it, a thing for blades since I was old enough to hold one without dropping it," Manuel said. "It was customary for young men in my family to learn something of the gentlemanly arts - music, dance, swordsmanship, courtship, things like that," he said, lost in the haze of memory for a while. He returned to reality with a sharp blink. "None of that means anything here, though."
"I wouldn't say it means nothing," Kitty argued. "It means you are multi-talented, and shows you are capable of learning a variety of skills. The fact that you can intermix your skills - dancing like a fencer, for example - proves you're clever and intelligent. It definitely means something, just not the same things it meant in Spain."
Manuel shrugged that off. "No one _cares_, though. I have spent much of my life honing my skills, and then when I came here, I learned that they don't mean anything. So I can dance, so what? Doesn't impress anyone, doesn't earn me any slack. I fence, yes, and that gives me something to do in my free time. I enjoy music, and am taking the music class, but there's no clubs nearby where I can play. I may be multi-talented, but they're all the wrong talents. Here, you have to be friendly. You have to have a sense of humor, be able to laugh at your own humiliations, or at the jokes of others. You have to _get along_ with people you never would have looked at in your old life."
Kitty frowned. "You said you learned courtship? That's all making friends is, you know, courting them, only there's less sex involved. Seriously, Manuel," she said. "I know you know how to be charming and witty. I've seen you do it. You just chose a very select group to do it to, which is fine. It's a choice. But, it's not a choice that will win you a lot of friends. If that's what you want, then more power to you. If that's not what you want, then stop griping and do something about it. You're a smart guy so I'm not sure what's stoping you." She considered him closely. "Yes, there are things, like this," she said with a wave around the room, "that you don't know. But this is also proof that when you ask, when you admit you don't know it, you can get help."
Manuel smiled softly. "And where I come from, if you admit that much weakness you are basically putting yourself into their control for the foreseeable future. I have been owned once, I did not care for the experience," he said, voice full of a terrible pride. "I know, intellectually, that things are different here - that my classmates do not play status games, that there is very little jockeying for position. I made a very poor first impression, but I was insane for my first few months here. My power was out of control."
"Yes, but what's your excuse now?" Kitty smiled, then blinked as the number board flashed. "Or rather, hold that thought. You're up."
She lead him to the desk with the waiting official, this time a bored looking man in his mid fourties who was clearly stuck in a dead end job and knew it. The official glanced curiously at Kitty as he took the form from Manuel.
"I'm just here to help him," she said. "The forms all correct."
The man nodded, scanning over it. "Looks fine. The test machines are all in use. Sit over there," he nodded to an entirely different waiting section, "and you'll be next."
Manuel wandered over to the appointed area, and sat down in front of the all-new all-different waiting area. "This grows tedious," he grumbled under his breath. Looking at Kitty, he shrugged. "I don't need an excuse for being myself, do I? Not anymore, anyway. My old excuse was how I used to shield - to keep everyone else out, I had to focus in on you - just as an example. And my excuse now, as you put it, is that the damage is done. Getting people to reassess a first impression without compelling it is difficult."
"Grows tedious? It started tedious." Kitty smiled, then arched an eyebrow. "So you're saying you just don't feel up to the challenge of getting them to change their minds?"
"It's not a question of being up to the challenge, it's a question of the challenge even being _possible_. To preserve my position, such as it is, I refrain from actively scanning my classmates. Without my power, it seems that I am not very persuasive. I got used to using it as a crutch, it would seem. I'm having to relearn interactions all over again, or so Samson tells me."
"Ah, a double challenge, then. Good thing you're up for it, cause I think it is possible." Kitty smiled, then caught the eye of the man behind the desk who was nodding at them. "Oh, looks like you're up. You go where he tells you and take a test on rules of the road. If New York is as up to date as Chicago was it'll be on the computer. If you pass the test they'll give you an eye test and you'll get your permit. Good luck."
Manuel wandered over to where the DMV employee was waiting for him and took his test. The test took perhaps ten minutes of his time. Then he wandered back over to where Kitty was sitting to wait for them to score it. "Even if it is possible, it will take _time_, and each blown conversation makes it that much harder to recover without my power. You begin to see the difficulty, yes? It is a negative feedback loop."
As Manuel aproached Kitty stood up, meeting him half way and heading over to the desk where one of the office workers was nodding at them - the joys of electronic scoring. "Not necessarily," Kitty disagreed. "Cause it's not linear, is it? One good conversation can go farther than one messed up one, and the inverse can be true."
"You only missed four," the man behind the desk said, "so you're good to go. Can you please look into here?" He gestured to the eye test machine.
Now she'd lost him entirely. He put his face into the eye exam machine, suddenly very glad that they weren't expecting him to distinguish colors. That always went badly, as he knew now that his color vision was different from most folks. But the eye exam went flawlessly.
"Very good, that's fine." Turning to his computer the man started typing, filling in blanks on the screen. "Please stand there," he said, pointing at a clear white space on the wall with a camera pointed at it. Manuel moved and the moment he was properly placed the man took the picture, coming out with a classically bad picture. "Very well. Hold on, please. This will print out and then you'll be done." Before either of the teenagers could say anything the man had disappeared into the back room.
Manuel waited for his learner's permit to print out, then grabbed it from the drone and looked at it. "It takes _talent_ to make someone like me look this bad." he said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm of half a mind to insist they do it again, and this time to _focus_ the camera."
The man simply said, "Please sign the back, sir," cooly, ignoring Manuel's comments.
Kitty grinned. "It's traditional. All photos the government arranges to have taken will look horrible. The world would end if someone had a good driver's picture. If they focused it they would just over expose the whole thing, or something."
Manuel signed the back of the card with a flourish, then looked at the man. "Are you finished?" he said, the picture of icy arrogance for just a second.
"You're done, yes," the man said, unimpressed. "Next!"
"Come on," Kitty said. "Let's get out of here."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}