xp_logs | Log: Jean and Jake, early Monday

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Guess where they are? In the kitchen. Jean comes over Jake making a sandwich, and wants to know why his medical file consists of about three lines. By bribing him with cookies and beer, she talks him into letting her do a full medical check up.

Hmmm. Only green paprika left. Did he want green paprika? No, no he did not. Jake frowned at the contents of the fridge. Perhaps he could do something with the mushrooms? Mushroom sandwich. That sounded boring. There had to be something else he could add. He ducked his head into the fridge, searching behind the tupperware.

Jean definitely did not understand the thoughts coming out of the kitchen. Ok, sure, usually people thought about food while they were in there, but they usually weren't so... focused. Curious, she pushed open the doorway. "Hello?" she asked, then spotted the man who seemed to be attempting to crawl into the fridge. "Please tell me you are not experimenting with the poor man's cryogenics."

Surprised by the voice, he bashed his head into the shelf above him, and emerged cursing and holding mozzarella cheese. "Does everyone around here get a kick out of sneaking up on me? I mean, to have to buy you all bells or some-- Doctor Grey!" he exclaimed as he finally recognized the redhead he was ranting at.

Jean blinked. It wasn't unusual that people could recognize her around here, but she still wasn't sure who this was. "Yes, that's me. Are you all right? I didn't mean to startled you. Um, who are you?"

"Oh, I´m fine, I just like bitching," Jake waved off her concern. He held out a hand, realised it was the one with the mozzarella and shifted the cheese over to the other hand. "I´m Jake Gavin. I work with Remy on the Intel things? I used to go see you at the hearings some years back. I was most impressed by your verbal smackdowns."

"Ah," Jean said, shaking his hand and smiling faintly at the mozzarella. "That would be Jake Gavin of the Infonet Gavins, of course. Your medical file is practically non-existent, but you were a... counselor here for a while?"

And that was where Jean's information on him dried up, which she didn't like in the least. It was bad enough that there were dozens of new people about, but at least with their medical histories she could keep some sort of track of what had happened while she was 'gone'.

Jake grimaced. "Don´t remind me. I think I can safely say that counseling is not an alternative career path for me. The little bastards--I mean, delightful darlings liked to torture me with their issues in a most unholy manner."

Jean snorted. "I adore the kids, really and truly, but you are correct that it frequently seems they do this stuff on purpose, just to get at you. It's not true, they'd have their fits and fights without us around, but when we're about they might as well get a little extra amusement in on the side."

"Yeah, I understand it completely, I just don´t want to be involved in it," Jake grinned. He glanced down at his mozzarella. Oh, right. Food. "Hey, do you want a sandwich? I´m sure it´ll turn out.. edible."

The construction so far underway on the counter was given serious study, and Jean shrugged. "Sure, why not. I'm game." She collected a pair of glasses out of the cupboard and asked, "What would you like to drink?"

"Anything´s fine, except orange juice," Jake said absently. He was busy looking for scissors to open the mozzarella packet to let the water run out. He wasn´t sure if Lorna did the grocery lists or the buying, but if she did, she truly was a goddess.

His mind seemed awfully focused and well shielded, but somehow food always drew enough of his attention that there were flashes of mental noise. Of course, they were all about food... "Scissors ought to be in the drawer on the left of the stove top," she told him, pouring cranapple juice into both glasses and snagging the bag of baby carrots before closing the door to the fridge. "So, tell me about yourself, Jake."

"Hey, thanks!" He paused for a moment. Oh, right. Telepath. All right then. Satisfied that he´d remembered, he dismissed the issue, and went back to the sandwich. Mayonnaise on the bottom, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes and mozzarella slices on top. "I feel this needs something else, but I´m not sure what," he pondered out loud.

Jean eyed the pile seriously. "There is a distinct lack of pickles," she told him, "or mustard, or both."

"You´re right." Jake gave the sandwich a narrow eyed stare. "Pickles, I think. Mustard and mayonnaise taste funny together." Pleased to have solved his problem, he went back to her question. "About me? What do you want to know?"

"Depends on the quality and quantity of mustard and mayo, but I bow to your superior knowledge." Jean settled into a chair, munching on one of the carrots. "Well, what brought you to Xavier's, if it wasn't a burning desire to try your hand at child-counseling."

"Ah. That." Jake paused briefly, grimacing at the pickles he was placing down. Why did everyone want to know that? "I´m a shapeshifter, and after the whole thing with Stryker, I got stuck in a shape. A female shape. Which is why Marko keeps calling me miss, by the way, and plying me with wine coolers. Unless Remy´s right and he´s hitting on me," he added, before turning around, and bringing the sandwiches over to the table.

Jean blinked, mind flashing back to the screaming pain of Charles' mental focus. "Ah," she said slowly. "And I take it that that has something to do with the very strange note in your medical file about frogs?"

"Sort of. That was Amanda. She claims it´s a spell that isn´t supposed to work, but I´m ´extremely suggestible´." He winkled his nose. "It took her many, many cookies to make me forgive her. I didn´t even know I had a medical file."

"You have," Jean said. "It's very sparse. Everyone who comes here for more than a brief consultation with Charles ends up with one, it's procedure. Also, I can see how you might be more susceptible to such a suggestion, I guess."

"I see. I suppose I just wasn´t paying attention at the time," Jake nodded. He regarded his sandwich briefly before taking a bite. Oh yes. Another success! He swallowed, considering his next words. No one seemed to have caught on to what he could actually do yet, and he wasn´t about to reveal all his secrets, but... "Well, it... I have absolute control of every cell in my body. Except when I don´t, apparently."

"Well, perhaps it is not so much that you are suggestible, then, as that your cells are. And that is... quite a gift. It must be useful in your line of work."

"It is, rather. And I don´t get sick," he added. "So no medical file necessary, I swear."

Jean's eyes narrowed at that. "Certainly, so long as you don't suffer a head wound..." Relying wholly on one's powers and control was a bad idea in her book. Particularly these days.

"You haven´t tried your sandwich yet," Jake said accusingly, pointing at her untouched plate with his own sandwich. "And what kind of help would a medical file be with a head wound?"

"It provides us a baseline on your vital stats to help us help you while you're unable to." It was exactly the same argument that Remy had ignored from Madelyn, but it was just as true. "Which removes the possibility of us not noticing that your blood chemistry is vastly altered from your standard, or anything else. Which, given we can not assume that any mutant keeps to normal human standards, is vital in properly diagnosing any other problems which may have come along with or since the head wound."

Jake considered it, finally shaking his head. "Nah, still not necessary. I plan to avoid getting head wounds. I´ll push Remy into the line of fire instead. Kill two flies with one stone," he said, brightening. "No head wound for me, and no Remy either."

Jean snorted. "You are aware that we medicos are not above sedating people to get what we want, right? Have a physical. I promise it won't take more than twenty minutes and..." Jean's mind flipped quickly through her normal bribes to come up with the one which might be useful in this case. "... give you cookies from Hank's private stash."

Well aware that drugs never worked on him, he still gave her an against his will interested look. "Hank has a private stash? Are they good? Do they have amusing frosting? The ones Dani brings me have amusing frosting."

"This is Hank we're talking about, Jake. Of course his private stash is good. His inclination for sweets rivals Charles' for Earl Grey."

This was true. "Are the medical files secured in the same way as the rest of the mansion´s computer system?"

Jean arched an eyebrow. "Of course," she said. "And I believe Hank has put a few additional protections of his own on them, although I don't know what they are or how they work."

"Can Kitty break them?"

"I... have no idea." It was the honest answer. "My guess would be not - Hank has more experience, really, but I don't know. I know she wouldn't." Or so Jean firmly believed. She could not imagine the sweet little girl doing anything of the sort, really. Not with something so important.

Jake nodded slowly, chewing the last bit from his sandwich -- he was still considering what he was going to call it. "And you´ll give me cookies?" ...That particular weakness of his was getting scarily well advertised. At least no one had picked up on the beer thing yet.

... no one had picked up on the beer thing... Jean grinned, just barely managing to keep it this side of evil. "And I'll give you cookies. I'll even throw in a pair of rounds at Harry's, as you are not one of the kids but are still willing to let me bribe you with cookies."

He surrendered. Really, there was nothing left to do. She was just too clever for him. Cookies, beer... Jake wasn´t sure his father would understand, but maybe he didn´t have to know. "All right, all right. When?"

"Any time that's good for you. Perhaps after lunch?" Jean suggested, finally setting into her sandwich. "Oh, this is good."

"I know. The pickles makes all the difference," Jake grinned. "Any time is good for me. Remy came by and woke me to tell me we were taking the day off. I bet he did it just to be annoying."

"A reasonable guess, yes. All right then, after lunch, I'll expect you."