ArchivedLogs:Homecoming

Homecoming
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Mariot
In Absentia	2013-10-06 Catching Mariot up on the news.
Location <XS> Teachers' Lounge - B1
Running a school for mutant teenagers just taking control of their powers is not an easy job, and the teachers at Xavier's deserve a place to come and relax. This lounge is their place to come and de-stress, and it does not skimp for relaxation. The room is elegant and luxurious, plush couches making up the seating in the lounge and a glossy glassy bar wrapping around one wall, well-stocked with alcohol (and perpetually fresh-brewed coffee, for those so inclined. A large-screen high-def television hangs on one wall, stocked with about as many movies and games as the childrens' rec room upstairs. High bookshelves hold a wealth of books. The fridge here is always well stocked, and the cook is always willing to make deliveries down to this level. Far in the back, a hot tub is submerged into the floor, for still more unwinding. Jackson is often not found around the school on weekends, but this one has seen a good deal more of him than usual. He returns on Sunday night with his children in tow, bustling the twins (and their beagle) off to their dorms before making his way down to the basement. He's dressed -- no differently than he ever is for class, really; asymmetrical black-and-green batik skirt, chunky platform sneakers, brightly coloured mismatched knee-high socks, a pale lavender t-shirt printed with images from the Lorax (in lettering wound through the pictures it reads, 'Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not.') He has a thermos in one hand, a large black messenger bag with the FreakAngels logo over his shoulder; from this he retrieves a small tupperware to set it on the table. He tucks himself into a corner of a couch, kicking off his shoes as he tucks his feet up beneath himself. He opens his thermos to pour a small amount of tea into its lid to let it cool. Also rarely seen, of late, another member of the school's teaching roster enters the lounge. Starting on a beeline for the kettle, it takes Mariot a few moments to register that there is another presence in the room, and a couple more after that to locate and identify it. She's clad in soft-soled, flexible boots; tight black jeans; and a black t-shirt sporting an image and slogan for the "Agartha Express". Physically, she's moving smoothly enough, but until surprise registered on her features, she had a rather tiredly distracted air. "Hello! Sorry. I didn't see you there," she says apologetically. "I didn't mean to ignore you..." "Mariot." Jackson looks up with a quick bright smile. He leans forward to pick up the thermos cap, blowing against the surface before taking a small sip. "Was hoping you'd come by, actually. Professor Summers told me you was back in town. Wanted to see if I could get you up to speed on --" For a moment his smile presses a little thinner. "Well, things. How was your summer?" Mariot casts a somewhat longing glance towards the kettle, but turns to more fully give Jackson her attention. "Busy," she says ruefully. "And... I gather that things here have been somewhat 'interesting', yes. Fortunately, there's not been quite so much... drama on the other side of the Pond, but I know that doesn't make things any easier +here+..." "I wouldn't say things'a been /easy/, no." Jax's tone is a little wry. He sips at his tea again, other hand waving towards Mariot's kettle in indication. "S'aright, get your drink. Sometimes," his voice lightens here, slightly amused, "caffeine helps with this kinda thing. Busy-good? I mean, d'you get a lot done? Sometimes around here I feel like no matter how busy things get s'just kinda treadin' water." Mariot permits herself a rueful chuckle, turning away for a few moments to set the kettle boiling, and to rummage in the cupboards. Emerging with cocoa, she props her rump on the edge of the work-surface and looks back to Jackson. "I certainly hope that I was useful. The... eye-catching superheroics are never likely to be something in which I can compete with others, but I hope that I've made some sort of difference. Now, however, it seems that they think we need every hand on deck in New York that we can get." "Yeeeeah, the eye-catching superheroics ain't exactly all they're cracked up to be, anyway. I'm pretty sure where the difference is /really/ gonna be made is --" Jackson hesitates, turning a small smile down to his cup. "Irrelevant to this conversation," he finishes with a quick laugh. "D'you want some cupcakes t'go with that? Pumpkin chocolate chip." His shoulder hitches up in a shrug. "Ain't wrong about New York, though. M'sorry, things all kinda -- blend together after a while, what was -- where'd you /leave/ things before you took off? I don't actually know where I gotta start catching you up /from/." Though she busies her hands with preparing her drink, Mariot keeps most of her attention on Jackson. "When I left, my largest concerns +here+ were to do with swarms of exotic bugs appearing in one of the girls' bathrooms, and with people startling Faelan into teleporting to strange places..." "Yes, ma'am," Jackson replies to this light and easy, leaning forward to take a sip at his tea, "but I'm supposed to be catchin' you up on current events. I don't know what you /know/ so I can't fill you in on what you don't. The school's been pretty quiet, really. The city's been explodin'. What was it like when you left?" "Tense, but...." Mariot shrugs, the motion higlighting the toning of her shoulders and arms. "Rumours of an underground fight club. Political shenanigans and games being played in the media, and for the +benefit+ of the media. But... hrmm. Right before I left, there was a policeman killed in Central Park. Then the Evolve coffeehouse was attacked. The terrorist attacks followed once I was in the UK..." "They weren't rumours," Jackson answers, the levity gone from his tone. He's just quiet, now, expression schooled into neutrality. "It was run by the police. By that policeman who was killed, actually, among them. A few of our students were -- taken. For it. The police were collecting money to watch mutants fight. To the deaths, sometimes. But we got in and got everyone out." He takes another small drink of tea, leaning forward to refill the cap of the thermos. /He/ takes one of the cupcakes from the tupperware, unpeeling it to nibble at it slowly. "We had a press conference. About the fight club. Then City Hall was blown up and then --" His hand drops to his lap, considering. "The Brotherhood broke some folks outta jail. Includin' the woman who blew up City Hall. S'sorta been a pendulum of violence. Some people fleein' from the cops took shelter in a church in Harlem, but they done drove them all out just last week. S'about where things are now." Mariot frowns pensively, spoon clinking rhythmically as she stirs her cocoa. "Mmmm. Have any of those fugitives wound up here, out of curiosity? Or fugitives from any of the other 'excitement', for that matter?" "No. I don't think steppin' in between the cops an' apprehending criminals /legitimately/ is a thing we're really wanting to get mixed up in. Just because they're mutants don't mean they --" Jackson shakes his head. "We got hold of the money the cops had collected from the fight ring. We're workin' on portioning it out back to the survivors. Unfortunately a lot of the folks who died had no way of -- no ID, no family we can find." Mariot blinks, then nods. "That's... an unconventional form of charity, but I can't say I disapprove." Sipping carefully at the hot drink, she sighs softly. "So... setting aside all the questions I'd like to ask about what's gone before: what should I +currently+ be worrying about?" Jackson turns up a hand, fingers spreading. "The kids are always our priority here. The city -- it's still a mess. It ain't been safe for mutants in public all summer. Registration's on the horizon an' I don't think it's gettin' any better after that. It's made things more strained here cuz the kids can't go into the city without escorts. Kinda a heap'a extra work on us both ways -- need people to go with 'em when they gotta go, an' when they're here they're gettin' a little stir-crazy." Permitting herself another low chuckle, Mariot cocks her head. "Have you had many escape attempts? Either from students wanting to pitch in to help, or just to get out and 'have fun'?" "I and many other teachers have been trying to make ourselves as available as possible for students who want to get out. We've -- thankfully not had kids jumping ship to try anything stupid." Jackson grins, quick and bright, and takes another bite of his cupcake. "Yet. /Did/ you have any other questions?" He's leaning forward now to put the lid back on his tupperware container of cupcakes. Belatedly remembering the offer of a cupcake for herself, Marion pushes off from her perch and moves over to snare one. "Oh... far too many, I'm sure," she says dryly. "But... how are +you+? How well have you come through all this personally?" Jackson uncaps the container again when Mariot comes over, offering out the tupperware before lidding it once more and tucking it back into his back. His smile twitches brighter at the question, head shaking slightly and his hand lifting to scuff over his short dyed hair, autumn colours of yellow and red and orange turning his head somewhat fiery. "Me? Oh, gosh. Long's the sun's in the sky /I/ weather most anything. Welcome back, though. Wish I had some better news t'give t'you." Mariot slightly cocks her head, offering Jackson a quite open examination. "Are you sure? Not that it's really my place to ask, but..." She shrugs a little, before settling down to perch on a chair, nursing her mug in one hand and the cupcake in the other. "Thank you for the welcome. It's appreciated. I'm a little worried that people might think I ran out on them, and deliberately missed everything you've gone through." "Oh," Jackson shakes his head with a small laugh, "I don't think anyone was really predictin' this summer, ma'am. Here's hopin' for a better fall, yeah?" His smile is warm and easy, and he smoothes his skirt down as he gets to his feet. "You had work t'do. I think folks'll understand that. But you need help with anything as you're gettin' settled back in, you just poke at me, yeah?" "I will, yes. And thank you," Marion says warmly, before offering a swift grin. "And please - do feel free to call me Mariot rather than ma'am. It makes me feel either old, or as if I should be taking salutes." "Sorry, ma -- Mariot," Jackson corrects with a smile, picking up his bag to sling it over his shoulder and grabbing his thermos. "Y'have a good night, now." "And you," Mariot says warmly, raising her cupcake in farewell before impishly adding, "sir."