Scott and Marie-Ange, backdated to Tuesday

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

Marie-Ange goes and seeks out Scott to nail him down about her training. It does -not- go well. Oh, she'll be training. Its just, well, Scott's not happy with Marie-Ange right now.



Once Mr. Summers had posted that at least -some- of the crisis was abated, Marie-Ange decided that it was time she went and pestered him. She understood perfectly that he was busy, between the crisis and trying to teach and probably more crises on top of that she didn't know about. But she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she needed to get this done herself - and that he was possibly waiting for her to take the initiative.

It took a few searches to find where he was, and she'd had to check his office twice before finally catching him walking towards it. Folding her arms, she waited for him to look up and then took a deep breath. "I spoke to my parents. I spoke to the Professor. Was there anything else I needed to do before you were willing to talk to me about this, or is there a secret test about me taking the initiative and asking on my own to prove that I am really willing?" It had come out a touch more annoyed than she wanted, she thought.

Scott gave her a very hard look, which was probably mostly spoiled by the glasses being in the way. "Marie-Ange," he said very clearly and calmly, "I don't play games. Lesson one." He opened his office door and pointed inside. "In. Sit down."

It had -definitely- been more annoyed sounding then she wanted. Marie-Ange managed to look contrite, and ducked her head, quickly and not half as confidently as she wanted to, walking through the door and sitting down.  "I was not trying to imply that you play games. I ... just thought that perhaps ..."  She trailed off, not sure if the unreadable look on Mr. Summers' face was the glasses, or just an expression of irritation at her explaining.

"Everyone's a critic," Scott muttered, going over and sitting down beside his desk. "Look, I haven't come to you because it's been a very long last couple of weeks, okay? Significant amounts of life and death stuff on my mind."

She knew. Logically, it made -sense-. Marie-Ange just couldn't shake the feeling that if it had been anyone -else-, he'd have managed to say something.  "I do know that. I -do-." It wasn't that she wasn't worried about Alison, but she wasn't much help in that regard, so what else could she do? "That is part of why I came to you after you said it was..  less unsafe is better than safer, I suppose."

She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. Scott told himself not to grind his teeth. That didn't do anything but wear down his teeth. "So your parents agreed?" he asked curtly. "And how did the talk with the Professor go?"

"They agreed. Reluctantly. My father is not happy about it, but he signed all the appropriate papers."  Marie-Ange said, frowning.  "And the Professor ... "  That had been a truly uncomfortable talk, and would -not- be the only one.  "He said that you were the final authority on that subject, but that my willingness to volunteer was key. He spoke to my parents as well."  She sighed. That had -also- been awkward, uncomfortable and resulted in the reinstatement of her having to call home twice a week, rather than once.

"We don't conscript people, no. Contrary to what you might hear in the halls," Scott said, a bit more wryly. "So tell me again, Angie," he said, leaning back in his chair and hoping his use of the nickname would come across as a little friendlier. "Why do you want to do this?"

"I do know it isn't a conscription." Marie-Ange said, just a touch tightly. "I'd like to think I'm a bit smarter than to just listen to every rumor I hear."  Besides, that rumor was Remy and she generally ignored all his paranoid ramblings.

Sitting up a little straighter in the chair, Marie-Ange composed herself for a minute.  "I know you said you were worried about it being because of Doug. It is not just because of him. It is because of what he did, but not because he spent the last week writing fifteen pages on kevlar and exactly why he has ugly green bruises."  She shook her head.  "I am tired of my visions coming too late, I am tired of not knowing what to look -for-, and ..."  She clenched a fist.  "I have this power, I have both these powers, and I do not know how to use them to help people -properly- and I need to learn. Before anyone else gets hurt again because of one of my visions."

"Why do you think training for the X-Men will help you with that?" Scott rubbed at his somewhat-unshaven jaw and studied her intently. "Your images - well, I can draw up some training exercises that could help you use them more effectively, yes, but that's only half of the equation. Your visions seem to be the heart of the problem. None of us, with the exception of Nathan, know anything about precognition, and you're working with him already."

"I do not -know-."  Marie-Ange said flatly. "Yes, I am working with Nathan. Yes, it has done some good. I have a better focus on specific parts of what I see. But that does not tell me what to look for."  She sat up a bit straighter in her seat.  "To help prevent things like Magneto trying to kidnap Miles I would need to know about Magneto. To know more about Magneto I need to be an X-man, and to do that, I need to train. Quod erat demonstratum."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Most of your visions have focused on people close to you, correct?" he asked. "What if you train, and find out that knowing about Magneto doesn't help you foretell his actions any more efficiently? What then?"

"Nathan said I shouldn't play what if games." Marie-Ange said.  "If I train and it does not work, at least I know. Rather than -not- knowing now and running around like a headless chicken."  Which, she thought was a really gruesome image. Though, better than imagining running around like headless Warren.  That she put out of her mind very firmly, very quickly.

"Do I look like Nathan?" Scott said, a bit of a snap to his voice. "I want to know your level of commitment, Marie-Ange. If doing this doesn't allow you to utilize your precognition the way you want, are you still going to stick to it? Or is that all you want out of it?"

"Then you should have asked me that." Marie-Ange said, trying not to get frustrated, or at least trying not to let it show. What was -wrong- with this man? She wanted to, she was competent, he'd let Paige volunteer.  "This is not about my precognition, Mr. Summers. I think I can help, I think I would not be terrible at it. Yes, I think the precognition is epically helpful but I had thought that you would want something that might help, not to turn me away because you think I am trying to be ...  I do not know what you are thinking."  Damn. She'd let that frustration slip out anyway. Double damn.

"You're taking my questioning of your motivations as a prelude to me turning you away?" Scott shook his head. "What," he asked dryly, "you expected to be welcomed with open arms and no questions? You're seventeen years old, Marie-Ange, and from my point of view - admittedly, I don't know what you've been thinking for the last few months while all of this has been happening - this is awfully sudden."

"I've been thinking I am sick and tired of watching idly while people I love get hurt!" Marie-Ange said, jaw clenched.  "I do not know what kind of answers you want to hear. I do not know what I need to do to make you understand that I am not joking about this. I -hate- not knowing."  It wasn't sudden. She just hadn't realized how much she'd been thinking about it until she -thought- about it. And Marie-Ange knew how very little sense that made to -her-, much less trying to explain it to anyone else.

"There's one thing I'm not sure you understand here," Scott said very quietly. "If you train, and do so successfully, you will be in situations on a regular basis where the people you love get hurt. Or killed. If you're successful in putting your visions to work, you may be the one whose information sends them into those situations." His fingers tapped out a restless rhythm on the arm of his chair. "Being an X-Man is not about protecting the people you care about. A lot of the time, it's about protecting people who not only couldn't care less about you, but very often hate you and what you are."

It took a few moments before Marie-Ange could unclench her jaw to respond. "It is -still- better than doing nothing. Than not knowing. Than sitting around knowing I could help and just praying or pacing or making the infirmary even more crowded with volunteers."  She sighed tiredly. "It is about protecting people I care about. At least it is for me. Just not...  so short-sightedly as maybe you think. If people hated mutants less, then Magneto would have less of a reason to try to kidnap little boys and then things are safer for Miles. If people hated mutants less, then idiot bigot snipers would not try to kill Alison, and end up shooting Doug."  She shook her head. "And yes, I do know it is not -that- simple."

He didn't like it. Really didn't. She was brimming with hostility and obviously stressed, and that wasn't the sort of mood you should be making decisions like this in. Her attitude was also setting his teeth on edge, which really wasn't a good place to start from his perspective. He pondered the problem for a moment longer, weighing the options, the risks, settling it all in his head. Only then did he answer her.

"We'll try this," he said, his voice calm but hard. "See how you take to the training for the next month, let's say. I won't lie to you, Marie-Ange - I am not particularly sold on your reasoning for this decision. And I am definitely unimpressed by your attitude." He let a bit of a snap enter his voice as he went on. "The X-Men may not be a conventional military unit but we have a lot of a military unit's characteristics. If you're going to make a habit of being confrontational and sarcastic, this isn't going to work."

Oh sure. Jono could be sarcastic. Amanda could be sarcastic. Heck, Paige was sarcastic sometimes. Everyone got to be smart mouthed and clever except her. Being confrontational with Sif had gotten her further. Obviously it would do just the opposite with Mr. Summers, and that wouldn't do at -all-. "I did not intend to be sarcastic, sir. I got carried away and upset and spoke without thinking. I'll watch my tone from now on."

"A good portion of the training has nothing to do with your powers or the physical shape you're in," Scott told her, his voice softening a bit. "I wouldn't even call it discipline - that's oversimplifying it. Training your mind, maybe, to break you out of... well, normal behavioral patterns and shake up your priorities. It can be the hardest part of it all, especially when you're coming in cold like you would be."

Marie-Ange tilted her head. "Like Sif trying to make me see everything as a potential fight?"  She frowned. "And how to determine if it was worth it, or if it would be less painful to avoid it in the first place?"  Sif hadn't taught that part. She had been all for "Fight and die well", but Marie-Ange was definitely not into the 'die' part of 'die well'. Learning to avoid fights was all her own self-taught knowledge.

"In a way," Scott said. "Or to know just how painful it's going to be and still be able to choose not to avoid it."

"Because the alternative would be worse."  Marie-Ange nodded. See, that, she thought, made sense. Perfect sense.  She wasn't sure why he couldn’t have just said so in the first place and made sense before trying to drive her insane by poking holes in all her nice prepared words.

"Basically," Scott said a bit warily, not sure what to make of her tone. Telepathy would be such a wonderful thing at times like this. He made a mental note to speak to Charles about just how that conversation with Marie-Ange had gone. "But we're getting off-track here. A month's trial sounds like a good idea to me. If you find you don't like it, or it starts interfering too much with your schoolwork..." He let his voice trail off warningly.

Marie-Ange was fairly certain she wouldn't -enjoy- training. But in the same sense that she hadn't enjoyed training with Sif. It was useful knowledge, but it wasn't -fun-.  "If my grades slip at all, I will let you know."  She didn't expect them to. Obsessively being a week ahead in assignments did a lot for making sure she kept her grades up even with insane crises..

"I won't need you to let me know," Scott said very seriously. "I intend to be keeping a very close eye on you on a number of levels for the next month. But I think we're done here for now, then, Marie-Ange." He leaned back in his chair. "It's going to take me a few days to draw up a training schedule for you. Don't expect to experience the Danger Room anytime soon - the first thing you're going to be doing is a lot of reading."

Marie-Ange blinked. "Reading?" she asked. Okay, she was definitely confused. Paige had gone on about the jogging and she wasn't so upset about that, and she had expected some physical stuff, but she hadn't expected reading to be involved. And it occurred to her that maybe she watched too many movies. "Not that I mind. I -like- reading. I am just a little curious though..."

Scott smiled faintly. "You need to know what's involved before you get involved. Call it full disclosure." Well, it was far from full disclosure, but it was about as much as a new trainee - as opposed to a recruit who'd already had some form of experience - needed to know right off the bat.

Marie-Ange nodded. "Should I just join Doug on the being yanked out of bed and having to go out running part too?"  She knew it was probably a -touch- less polite then she'd wanted, but if there were going to be even fewer chances to spend mornings in bed, she wanted to know ahead of time. Besides, then she could just stop going running at night. It wasn't all -that- different.

One step forward, two steps back. Scott held the faint smile on by sheer force of will. "Yes, in fact," he said, when he'd not been intending to say anything of the sort. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have started any physical training with someone new for at least a couple of weeks, but really, she was irking him terribly. "Every morning. I'll be looking forward to seeing you."