Summary:In which Hank meets with Allison Crestemere, possibly even by chance! They talk about The Institute and the future. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Allison sits by herself, eating a bowl of noodles.
That's the short story. The long of it is … well, no, that's the long of it too. The noodle shop is sparsely-populated at this time of the day. It's busy enough to seem busy, but it really isn't; that is, it's not as busy as it could be. The slender blonde sits at a table that is close to the door, and pushed against a wall: it's probably the gwai-lo table, or the table reserved for women who don't have a date.
THE TABLE OF SHAME.
Like all millenials, she is checking out her phone as she enjoys brunch. From her expression, she looks gravely concerned with whatever it is she's looking at, or frustrated by whatever it is she's looking for, but cannot find. The soup broth is lukewarm by now, and she holds a mouthful of noodles hanging precariously from chopsticks above it. Who knows how long she's held that pose? Could've been for a while.
Slow eater, perhaps.
Hank McCoy has been up through the night - and if it shows it is probably not all that apparent to most folks, though he's a tad less energetic than is his norm. Regardless, the rather distinctive man bulks large as he enters, and surveys the restaurant. "Noodles. Need noodles…" He murmurs, his voice very very deep, almost deep enough to feel. Regardless, it isn't the size of the man, nor is it the depth of his voice that draws attention - it is the blue-black fur! Oh, and the claws and fangs, but most people notice the fur first.
A genial smile is offered to the room at large, and then he approaches the counter (and the somewhate dubious looking young man manning it). "Good…" A vaguely jaundiced look outside flows into a broad smile. "..-morning-. Might I have a bowl of the ramen, some fried shrimp and an order of egg rolls, please?" Well, that's a fair amount of food, but he IS rather large.
The young man offers a tentative nod, and makes a brave attempt at a smile. "Of course, sir." The order is written up, paid for and Hank makes his way to a table only one removed from Allison's as he waits for the food.
Allison happens to look in Hank's direction.
Unfortunately, she was pushing some noodles in her mouth at the time. Those noodles come sputtering out of her mouth, and all over her smart phone, unconsciously. She probably hasn't seen a mutant quite as apparent as him before, and, if she had, it was at a distance. Up close, the feral majesty of Dr. McCoy is rather impressive. If he had a giant techno-bracers, he'd be an excellent Overwatch cosplayer.
Embarrassed, she tries to regain her composure.
"Sorry, I — " She points at her noodle-covered phone with her chopsticks. " — just, uh — watching a minging bit of — I mean, this — " Cough. " — um, just watching the YouTube and it had a cat that — " Allison sort of trails off, failing in her attempt. So, with her cheeks filling with blood, she furtively cleans off her device with what napkins she has, mumbling something under her breath.
"Sorry," she apologizes again, out of the side of her mouth.
"No need to apologize, Miss." Hank replies with evident equanimity and a rather toothy smile. Rising, he fetches a few more napkins for the clearly distressed and mortified young lady, offering them with a gallant bow. "Honestly, I surprise MYSELF some mornings!" That with a quirky grin. This close one can see just how -odd- his shape is, longer than normal limbs, very broad of chest and shoulder, massive hands and his shoes have to be size twenty at least! His grooming is impeccable, however, though there is a faint scent of chemicals, perhaps he was in a lab or some sort of factory prior?
Along with the napkins he offers his name. "Hank McCoy, apologies—most humble and profound if I startled you." A chin-point towards the phone. "If it misbehaves, I'd be quite happy to take a look at it for you? I wouldn't want the loss of your phone to be on my conscience."
Allison finishes off wiping her phone clean as she continues.
"Still, it's awful rude." Judging from her British accent, she's probably someone who respects manners. Stereotypically so. "I haven't a reason to act so, really. Isn't — well, I mean, there are other mutants in the city, so — " Shrug. " — I ought not be so completely mad when I see one." And then, she puts her phone done. "So, bear with me, then? And thank you."
The blonde returns her attention to the blue-furred man.
"My name's Allison, Mr. McCoy, I — " She looks to a backpack on the floor next to her. " — will confess, actually, that I had maybe a question or two which I wanted to ask? I mean, if you've the time. You — you have obviously ordered and are waiting for your food." Obviously. "So, if you've that time." Clumsily. She's probably still reeling from the faux-pas she just made.
Maybe the chagrin of losing delicious noodles.
Little can compare to the loss of delicious noodles!
"Well, no, not really, Allison…not rude at all. I can be quite startling if you're not used to such sights, perfectly understandable and quite reasonable." His voice is very deep, profoundly so, and very precise in his enunciation. Definitely an American accent, in fact one who is a student of language might place him as from the American mid-west.
"And technically, it is Doctor McCoy…but that's hardly anything you could have known, and please, call me Hank."
Once Allison makes her confession, he smiles and looks to one of the empty seats at her table. "Shall I join you then? I'll be happy to entertain any questions you might pose, though of course I reserve the right to choose which to answer."
"Of course, Dr. McCoy."
Allison smiles very briefly, and then waits for Hank to sit across from her. "Since you may or may not respond to a question, I might as well be blunt about it." Beat. "Have you heard of a professor named 'Xavier'? A woman — another mutant — told me that he was looking for me to invite me to a school that he runs." Scoff. "I can't say I've heard a thing about the man, and I don't know what his interest might be in teaching or studying mutants. These days, it's not unreasonable to think he may be doing so for ulterior reasons, but — " Shrug. " — I also don't want to second-guess."
"Have you heard of him?"
"Hank, please." Hank answers as he sits down at the table with a smile.
"Direct is fine, and the reasons are that there are things you might ask that I've promised to hold in confidence." His smile at the question is genuine and warm. "Ah yes, Professor Charles Xavier, he's an old friend and mentor of mine, has been for many years." Okay, what are the odds of -that-?
Hank looks very thoughtful, one dinner-plate spanning hand cupped to his chin as bright blue eyes study the young woman as he thinks. "Charles tends to keep a low profile, it is hardly surprising you hadn't heard much. I can assure you, you needn't fear any clandestine machinations, The Institute is a place where mutants are welcome, and where we learn to best use our gifts and can reach our potential." A nod. "And it is an accredited educational facility."
About to go on, Hank's order comes up and he excuses himself to get it, which gives Allison a few moments to parse what she's just heard.
There's a pause as the information sinks in.
"Why do you consider it a gift?" Allison's voice is lowered. "What if you don't consider your change a gift?" Beat. "That — that's not what happened to me; I don't know what happened exactly, but I wouldn't call it a gift." Another beat. "I don't consider anything that happened before coming to New York gift." A little darkly.
And then, a sigh.
"When you say it is an accredited educational facility, does that mean — ? Does that mean I can get — what do you Yanks call it — a GED? Or some sort of, like — what if I wanted a culinary diploma? Would that be recognized elsewhere?" This is what she seems to actually be curious about now. Not so much 'development of potential' as 'I want papers and degrees'.
But at least she's a mutant.
When he returns Hank offers Allison an egg roll, then reclaims his seat before he answers. "Well…we have extraordinary abilities, and they allow us to do things that few others could. I admit that not everyone's mutations are gifts, but without knowing the nature of yours I am in no position to assess their merit or lack thereof."
A moment to eat a shrimp, and then he continues. "In my case I was gifted with great strength and agility and later I boosted it, though with some unintended…" He motions to the fur. "…side effects." A shrug. "I believe that my gifts are meant for more than my mere benefit, that I should and needs must use them to the best of my ability to the benefit of others."
He offers a kind smile at the sigh, eyes understanding in general if not the specifics. "Yes, fully accredited for a wide variety of degrees, including the culinary should that be your desire, Allison. There's some formalities, of course, but yes - you can get your GED, and more."
Allison's mouth flattens to a line.
She takes a moment or two to feed herself some noodles. In that time, she seems to compose her thoughts. Hank's obviously smarter than her, even if she speaks prettily. "I want to know more about this Institute. I — " Shrug. " — if I've been invited to it, there must be a reason for it, right? If Professor Xavier was looking for me — " She trails off in favor of eating some more.
And thinking some more on what to say next.
"I, um — " Beat. " — I sort of turn into a monster." Clarification. "Not a monster, monster, not like — you know, a werewolf or a vampire, it's just — " Shrug. " — I become a being of pure fire? Of — no, of lava. Of — of the earth too, I'm not sure how else to describe it, but — " She shakes her head. " — it's dangerous. I'm dangerous. I melt things, I destroy things without meaning to." Her voice is on the edge of sounding helpless. "And when I get really stressed out? It's — I can pull the magma from the ground, and the earth shakes and explodes — " Half-laugh. " — I don't know."
"I sound stupid."
"No, I'm afraid you do not sound at all stupid, Allison. What you sound like to me is a woman who's been thrust into a world where she has powers that terrify her. A woman that is desperately trying to get a handle, and frightened that she might — or possibly already has — hurt someone if she loses control." Hank is firm, there's no doubt in his voice, nor in his entire mien. "I am something of an expert on mutation, and Charles is as well."
"Truth be told, yes, there's a reason you've been invited, several I'm sure but the main one is so that you can realize your potential and even more importantly, master the use of your powers so that you control them and not the other way 'round." Hank smiles. "Professor Xavier is also a mutant, and he has the ability to detect others of our kind." Like her. Like him. "That's how he found me and took me under his wing when I was still in school. It was a turning point for me, and one I do not in any regard regret. So…the question is, shall we see about those formalities and show you what the school has to offer? Nobody will contravene your will, -you- will decide whether or not to train and study there, but you can't do that in a vacuum."
The blonde looks down into her soup broth for a moment.
"I've — " She clears her throat. " — I've spent the last eighteen months making a life here, Dr. McCoy. When I got here — " She looks out the nearby window pane. " — I had nothing. No friends, no family, not much of a past, really." She doesn't elaborate. "It's difficult to let all of that go, and — " Her voice trails off.
She feeds herself another mouthful of noodles, the last of them.
"But yes. I'm afraid of what I can do. But I'm afraid of what I will lose: my apartment, my job — " Beat. " — that will all be gone, won't it? I doubt that the school — I don't even know where it is, but I doubt it will simply let me go back to my 60-hour-a-week waiting and cooking schedule, yeah? I'll bet I'd be knackered after class, and be a horrid server." She presses her lips together again.
"Would it be worth losing what I have?"
"The question is do you dare risk losing it all and possibly even more because of a lapse in your control?" Hank is not aggressive, and he is eating as well, though it should be noted he does so with care and that he does no, absolutely -never-, talks with is mouth full." He looks around the restaurant, and then to the troubled young lady. "Unfortunately the school is not conveniently close to the city, it is in a rather rural location. You would not need to give up your apartment unless you cannot afford to sustain it, and working sixty-hour or more weeks will absolutely not be workable along with your classes and training."
A shrug and gentle half-smile, one fang just over the bottom of one lip as Hank does so. "This is much the same for /anyone/ who's ever gone away to school. It is a very normal thing, and it is the training and education and such that will provide the long-term means to HAVE such things, to HAVE a life. But the price is the time spent in that learning."
"Nobody is going force you to do anything you don't want to, Allison. I'm merely asking you to consider and at least see what's there." He's very earnest as he leans forward. "Don't cut bait before even making the first cast, that is a tragedy beyond measure. See, then make an informed decision, I urge you."
The quiet things no one ever knows happen in Allison's mind in silence.
She finishes off her meal, tipping her bowl to her mouth to drain the remaining broth. When she sets down the bowl, she has more questions. There's a note of sadness in her eyes. "My father — " There's a pause after. " — my father always told me that althoughs days and nights come and go, the horizon stretches forever." Beat. "I suppose I should expect to not be able to come back that often."
Another pause.
"Will I be able to write to people? Is there a place near this school that I could meet with friends from the city, if they wanted to come visit me?" Beat. "And what if they are not mutants? Does that mean I can't speak to them again?" These are important matters to a young woman starting a new life. Apt questions. "I — I can understand why the Professor would want seclusion, but — " Shrug. " — I am not completely willing to leave everything behind."
"Not unless I have to."
Hank is patience itself with Allison, any silences are left uninterrupted and used to eat his own meal, after all, he's a large and very vigorous man - it takes a lot of fuel to keep his furnace stoked. "Father's often have some interesting insights, that's for sure, but don't write this life off just yet." Hank offers with an encouraging tone. "Of course you can write to people, and you won't lose your phone access, and there's absolutely no reason for you not to visit, and yes, there's areas where you can entertain visitors at the school just as there are areas that they cannot enter and should not be mentioned."
A beclawed hand extends to briefly rest on Allison's shoulder, should she permit the familiarity. "Of COURSE you can speak to your friends, mutant or not, the whole idea is so build a world in which we can all live together in harmonious accord someday. Cloistering you in isolation serves nobody, especially not you."
That hand squeezes very gently, it is surprisingly soft and a bit warmer than normal, and then it withdraws. "You don't have to give up anything you don't want to, and if you need help…all you need do is ask."
Allison seems a little calmer about the prospect.
"I'll keep that in mind." There's a pause. "I mean, if I can learn to control myself — get a degree or diploma or something — " She makes a vague gesture with her hands. " — it's just a break from this life, right? I can still come back, pick up again, and just — " She frowns, as if she just figured something out. " — let life get back to normal." As if that were ever something that mutants could enjoy, right?
She sits back in her chair.
"Thank you for answering the questions, Dr. McCoy. You — you helped put everything in perspective." The young woman smiles briefly. "I'm actually looking forward to it now. It — I was frightened at first, but — " Shrug. " — what have I to lose, truly? There's so much to gain, and the horizeon stretches forever." Her hands come to rest in her lap.
"Not sure how to repay you."
Seeing the young lady calmer, hearing how much more hopeful she sounds, that's a great thing. Hank winks. "WHEN, you learn to control yourself. I wouldn't think that you were the sort to give up, to countenance failure. You built a life from nothing, now lets see you build it further with SOMEthing." And yes, his expression is one of determination and hope. The man's energy is fairly infectious!
"Please, Allison, you needn't be so formal with me unless we're in a classroom, Hank is fine, or Henry if that's too familiar for your comfort." He grins. "I'm an educator, Allison. Perspective is something I always strive to provide." A soft laugh. "Everyone fears the unknown, but it doesn't have to define you. Trust me - your father was right, the horizon -does- stretch forever. What do you have to lose? A great deal, but as you said — there's even more to gain."
A deeper laugh. "Repay me? Dear girl, you've already paid me far more than I would have ever asked! I -adore- helping people, I love seeing hope and understanding bloom behind someone's eyes, THAT'S my coin of choice." Hank's turn to shrug. "Anything else is either irrelevant or icing on the cake."
Allison's grin is like the sun coming up.
"You do like helping people, don't you?" Whereas she seemed guarded before, the blonde sits and acts more openly. "And I — I have to admit I'm not the easiest to get along with." Even if she seems nice enough. "It's hard to find the positives when the negatives are so bloody apparent, yeah? It's easier when someone's ready to shine a light for you. Good on you that you can do so, even where the night is darkest." Dear Lord, she'd give Batman a run for his money.
So emo.
"Can I at least get your noodles? I grew up in a culture where it was considered impolite not to return favors immediately and presently." Whatever that culture might have been. "I was taught that failing to give favor when favor is given is a sign of disrespect, actually. Even if the favor is not requested." Beat. "Granted, my culture was a little peculiar, but it was what it was."
Emphasis on the 'was'.
"Guilty I'm afraid." Hank admits without even a hint of repentance or regret. When he sees that grin, sees her relax and quite literally bloom, his own smile brightness in equal measure. "Oh, sure, the dark is always there but just like fear you can't let IT define you." An emphatic shake of his head. "I can't and I won't, not ever. There's too much worth seeing, learning, experiencing in the world - this and others - to miss a single moment we don't have to!"
So hopeful.
"If you wish to get my noodles, by all means you may if that makes you feel more comfortable. In turn I'll offer you a business card so you can call me — any time of day or night — and a ride to the Institute when so ever you want to check it out. Sound goo?"
"Okay."