Summary:Scott's returned, and looking for things to do. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Scott Summers hasn't been around the mansion much in a bit. He just returned last night after a long sabbatical, putting his th ings in his room and generaly getting settled. He's still not sure what his place will be here, but he knows this is home and he already feels better back inside the familiar Mansion walls.
He's just finished a workout in the gym, clad in a t-shirt and track pants along with a pair of sneakers. He has his visor on, easier to keep in place while jogging, his brown hair damp from the shower as he heads through the foyer.
"Stop right there."
Jean came out of nowhere, really. Mostly as she usually does. She moves around the manse like a spectre, especially when there's downtime and school has been out of session since the last hours end. A clipboard is in her arms, tucked tight against her chest as she leans against a pillar, one ankle hooked over the other. "Is this going to be a thing now? You disappear, then come back and not even say a word of hello?"
She moves away from the pillar now to approach, it wasn't a quick one, just a casual approach with a smile upon her face. She wasn't upset nor disappointed, just happy to see an alumni back in his former home. "A hug? A high five? No, how you been and what's going on and what's been happening?" She snorts. "What's to eat, who's been cooking, any missions to go on, do we have a team assembled.." She runs through the gamut of questions that might be asked, all without prying into Scott's mind. "But more importantly, how are you?"
Scott Summers listens to the barrage of words with a patient and slightly amused expression on his face. AS she finishes, he moves in and does, indeed, take a hug, albeit perhaps a little awkwardly depending on her level of cooperation.
"I got in at two in the morning. It didn't seem wise to raise the whole household just to throw me a welcome home bash," he says. "I figured I'd check in…well, right about now, after my morning run, workout and swim," he says. He's been up since five in the morning, as always, and bright eyed and bushy tailed as can be. "And I'm good. Better. I needed a break. I just had to get myself to admit it."
"So…status report?"
The hug was accepted, thankfully he wasn't smelly nor too sweaty that would cause her to recoil in 'yuk'. She pats his back and laughs a little, then pulls away to get a look at the taller man, then nods in approval. "The vacation did you some good. Me next."
"I was awake. I'm always awake." Which isn't healthy, naturally. But even if she wasn't a picture of health, no one would be really able to tell.
"Nothing to report. So far, all quiet on the home front, save for some issues over in Mutant Town, but we haven't gotten the official word to mobilize and mount up. Most of the few and present, they're out there living their lives and doing their own thing."
Scott Summers actually smells rather good, having been freshly showered post-workout, the smell of his soap sharp and pleasant. "Always awake doesn't sound good. Sounds rather unhealthy, in fact. You need to take care of yourself if you want to take care of everybody else."
"I'm not particularly worried about official word. If someone needs taken care of, we should take care of them and figure out the paperwork after. But I'm glad to know that things have been at least a little quiet. Of course, part of me just t hinks that means we need to watch the horizon even more closely."
"Eh." Was her only response to taking care of herself. She begins to walk through the hallways, passing off the clipboard to Scott without a mention of it for now. "If you're talking about keeping your eyes on the horizon, I'm going to assume it means not just New York." She states. "There are other places that are being monitored as of right now, by my own doing at least, it wouldn't be too bad to get out of the state." And quite possibly take care of it herself. But she doesn't say that.
"List of assignments." She gestures towards the clipboard. "Vacant seats among the staff, you can pick what you need and want to do from there. Let me know, I'll get the paperwork going, you re-registered and you can start whenever you feel you need. At least it'll give some of the substitutes a bit of a break."
Scott Summers leans against the wall, as he watches her go along the halls, "That all sounds very official," he says. "And yeah, I want to keep an eye out for anywhere we can help."
He frowns a bit, "Man, I thought I was the stiff one. I came back to be an X-man, not a schoolteacher. I don't mind running scenarios and getting their training up, but I'm not going to be a math teacher anymore. It's not who I am and it's not what serves them best. I'm best of service on the front lines against the people endangerous the lives of mutants."
She stops and turns, then raises her brow. "Me? Stiff?" She shakes her head. "Who do you think I learned it from." She doesn't lean, she shrugs. "No one said math. There's a full list of things you could do to enrich and nuture, as well as protect and serve. Going out to do battle shouldn't be something that children aspire to when they think of the great Scott Summers."
But, she shrugs, taking a step closer to retrieve the clipboard with an open hand. "When the kids realize that they'll actually have to use geometry in their lives, they'll wish they've had you for a teacher to show them how to do it." Not a guilt trip! Not at all! But where is the lie?!
Scott Summers runs a hand through his hair, "Nobody wants to do battle. Not even me. But I'd rather they be prepared than not be able to defend themselves because I was too busy teaching them differentials," he sighs. "Yeah, I can be a good math teacher. I can be a good lot of things. Being an X-man is what I'm best at," he says.
"What about you? You have so much ability, so much power, so much to offer. Why are you being wasted doing office work?"
"It seems like that's what being an X-Man is. Doing battle. Oh, and the copius amounts of research. Not that I'm complaining, mind." She leans against the wall now, then sighs, slowly sinking to the floor to relax.
"Me?" She snorts. "I teach English and am the school psychologist. Nothing is more sharper than the mind and a pen. They're both equally mightier than the sword." She laughs, figuring that eventually, that'd be something the Professor quotes. "But I strike out on my own. Between here, college, and the world, my cup drowns."
Scott Summers shrugs, "Than I guess I'm good at battle. I'm okay with that," he says.
"I'm not sure about the pen and the sword. But if you feel your mind is sharp and you're satisfied with what you're doing, then I'll keep my mouth shut about it,' he says. "I'll figure out a role for myself, don't worry. I'm not one to be idle."
"No, no. Don't keep your mouth shut. Just go ahead and say it. I'm not going to pry for it."
"We do need a school mechanic." Jean grins, "Totally non teaching. And I do hope you don't mind if I take your bike out for a spin a time or two… actually.." She wonders about this, she had never thought to ask. "You can customize, right?"
Scott Summers shakes his head, "I'm not being coy. I'd just like to get the lay of the land for myself. I trust you entirely, it's just a matter of me knowing what fits and feels right for me."
"And yeah, I can do mechanic stuff. That…would be nice, really. It helps me think. And yeah, I'm a full-on ride pimper," he grins.
"Scott Summers, coy shouldn't even be in your vocabulary." She grins and slowly pushes herself to a stand, all the while fixing her buttoned down shirt and dusting off the back of her dress pants. "Ride pimper, to what extent." She was quizzing him now, because an idea was forming, and this was going to be good.
Scott Summers smiles, "I can probably pull most anything relatively custom off. I can't give you machine guns or oil slicks, but I could make it pretty sweet. And I might be able to figure out the latter with a little help from, say, Hank," he says. "But I can m ake it damn fast and damn cool looking. I've got a program on m y laptop, we could flip through the possibilities, order some parts if you want."
"I think what I want may be all hydraulics?" She was squinting now, then nods to herself.
"I know what I want and how I want it. May I?" She reaches up towards his visor, not intending to take it off, but to touch the top of his forehead. "It's better you see for yourself then me try to explain it, because I have no idea how to without stealing your knowledge."
Scott Summers nods, "Feel free," he says. He really does trust her, it comes with the territory. He even manages not to flinch as she gets near his visor. "I feel like we're about to slow dance without a soundtrack. And I haven't been bought you dinner yet," he says.
It doesn't take much to invade Scott's mind and insert the images of her idea. One quick little touch with little pushback from him was all that was needed. The idea in motion.
"Like that." She says, taking a step back and removing her fingers from his forehead. Granted, she didn't need to touch him, but the emphasis was needed so that he was prepared that it was coming. "With a good grasp of telekinetics, hydros and speed, I think I could save some power reserves instead of flying everywhere."
She makes a sound with her teeth, almost like clicking. "Energy preservation, that way I won't be tapped out."
Scott Summers rolls his tongue around in his mouth, "Yeah, I'd have to consult Hank on the power sourcing then. I can rig you up a gas or diesel engine easily enough, even one with turbo, but this kind of thing might be a bit beyond my level. That said, I can make you the body easily and make it plenty aerodynamic."
"Gives me a project to keep me busy, at least."