xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, Tuesday morning

Nathan reports to Moira's office to discuss his and Angie's little precognitive adventure. He makes it very clear that no, he did not put anything illicit in the brownies.

The note had been very, very explicit. After he got up, showered, and ate - he'd managed one, two, and a token attempt at three - he was to report to a certain Scottish redhead's office for a very thorough going-over. Or he would be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future. Nice of her to give him a choice, Nathan thought a bit wryly, and would have shaken his head if he hadn't suspected it would fall off if he did that.

Moira waited patiently at her desk for Nathan to make her way downstairs. By the vague activity on the link, he was at _least_ conscious. Everything considered, conscious was better than nothing. A faint movement caught her eye and she leaned over to peer into the small cage on her desk. Smiling, she reached in and the baby mouse tottered out from the little tea cosy that had become it's home.

Nathan stopped in the doorway, peering a bit owlishly at Moira leaning over and cooing at the little cage on her desk. "What--" He stopped, coughed, and tilted his head at her. Something had crawled into his mouth and died in the course of the night, that was the only explanation. "What's in the cage? And, uh, morning..."

"Mornin'." She gave him this Look as she lifted the mouse out gently. "An' 'tis a mouse. A bairn, actually. Catseye brought 'er ta me th' other day. I think she ate th' mum but we're nay goin' there. An' ye look like shit."

Nathan came over and sat down. Carefully. "It's a cute little thing," he said, blinking at it. Moira had it in her hand and was bending in close, murmuring to it with a little smile on her face. "Uh. You know," he started a bit awkwardly, "I really didn't put anything in the brownies. I swear. Just a lot of chocolate."

The baby--it needed a name--was no longer afraid, it seemed. As long as a certain cat wasn't around. "Enough chocolate ta send th' bot' o' ye inta precog fits?" she asked, frowning slightly. The end result had been rather amusing but when you got right down to it, it was still really creepy.

"I... don't think it was really the chocolate. Or at least, not entirely the chocolate?" Nathan ventured. Moira just gazed at him expectantly, and he sighed. "We were doing a meditation exercise. A new one, yes, but not all that much different from the ones we've been doing for months - just a variation on a theme. Only something happened, and it felt like we got... stuck, almost. Like a link, only not." He grimaced, rubbing at his unshaven jaw. "Maybe, given that my telepathy's stronger now... well, that and Angie's always been prone to weirdness with psis. Look at what happened with her and Manuel..."

"I've been thinkin' 'bout tha'. An' this an' everythin' else tha's 'appened wit' Angie's powers." Carefully, Moira placed the little mouse back into the cage, where it decided that the best place ever to go was under the food dish. "I want to run more tests but from th' way I'm lookin' at it, 'tis as if she's a telepathic sink hole."

"That... would make a lot of sense," Nathan said, blinking. "Her shields are bad, too - you probably know that already. If it's a... structural issue, that could explain why." He smiled a bit sheepishly. "I'm guessing that Charles will be the telepath helping you with those tests, though. I am, uh, apparently having tea with him before my afternoon classes."

"Accordin' ta Emma's notes on th' shieldin' class, Angie passed. Barely." Moira leaned back in her chair. "An' good, ye do need ta 'ave a verra lon' talk wit' 'im." She was cheerfully ignoring that e-mail in her inbox that said something along the lines of stopping by when she had the chance.

"Rather like you do," Nathan said without thinking. "For different reasons, I mean..." He paused, focusing on her again as he realized she was giving him one of those narrow-eyed looks. "Was I not supposed to hear you not thinking about that? Because it was kind of loud."

She rolled her eyes at him, clearly irritated. "It wasnae tha' loud. Anyway. Wha' ye two did was amusin' at first but then moved right alon' inta creepy. 'as it affected ye this mornin'? Besides ye lookin' like ye spent all night doin' keg stands?"

Nathan decided to reserve further comment on Moira talking to Charles. He could just mention at tea, if nothing else, that she seemed to be avoiding it. "I feel hungover. Quite seriously. Not just like I'm hungover, but actually hungover." He paused, thinking. "Nothing wrong with my vision, though, apart from a little bit of blurring, which isn't uncommon for me with a hangover. I'm not seeing anything weird this morning, either. The patterns are still there in my head, but... farther down."

Reaching up, Moira pinched the bridge of her nose. "...congratulations. I think ye an' Angie jus' came up wit' th' first example o' drunk via powers. Angie's powers acted like a sink 'ole again in combination wit' th' massive amounts o' sugar..." She frowned and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "Chemicals 'ave always interacted wit' 'er strangely," she muttered to herself.

"It was so strange, Moira..." Nathan trailed off, his eyes going distant. "It was like she had my style of precognition and I had hers, or we were sharing, maybe, and seeing everything... I'm not even sure half of it was real."

"Nay surprisin', given tha's wha' 'appened wit' Angie an' Manuel," Moira pointed out. "They're powers clashed an' mixed for a while, remember? I'm really nay surprised this 'appened, nay when I've stopped an' thought 'bout it."

"I wonder if we could ever duplicate it." Now Moira was giving him one of Those Looks, and Nathan grimaced, raising a defensive hand. "Not that I'm enjoying the hangover, but if it turns out that it didn't have any negative impact on us other than that, and if we could learn to... control it, or channel it... just imagine." He paused, his eyes going distant for a moment. "Short-term and long-term. Personal and event-based..."

"Only in a controlled environment," she warned. But it could, possibly, be doable. "'ave another psi there as back-up jus' in case somethin' _does_ go wron'. Angie went insane for a while there an' while I think she's gettin' better, we dinnae want somethin' goin' wron'. Or wit' ye, nay after everythin' tha's 'appened recently."

He smiled a bit faintly. "Just imagining the possibilities. I wouldn't want to risk it if it wasn't safe." Something to ask Charles about, though. "So," he joked, "you are going to remember to tell Cain not to give the baby Gatorade, right?"

Moira snorted but relaxed a little bit, some of the irritability she had been feeling started to fade. Stupid hormones. "I'll keep tha' in mind," she said, shaking her head, a smile flickering through.

Nathan leaned across the desk, his hand covering hers and squeezing gently. "So," he teased lightly, even as he managed to finally reach out down the link in a caress. "Do I have an appointment with the machine that goes ping, or the one that goes bleep?"

Turning her hands, she gripped his back and grinned at him. "Bot', actually."

Nathan tsked. "This fondness you have for getting me in your machines... it's very suspicious, you know. Very suspicious."

Moira tilted her head at him and smirked, just a little bit. "Wha' can I say? Yer all sexy when surrounded by various pieces o' equipment."

"Personally, I think you just like it when you get to tell me to stay put and not move."

"Well, then there's tha'."