ArchivedLogs:Parent-Teacher Conference
| Parent-Teacher Conference | |
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| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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20 November 2013 Aloke has some concerns about Shane. |
| Location
<XS> Chimera Room – FL2 | |
The guest rooms at Xavier's are spacious and comfortable, well-furnished suites readied for visitors. A mid-sized guest suite, its sitting room is large but its bathroom and two accompanying bedrooms -- one a queen, one holding two full beds -- snug and cozy. Its windows look out over the front yard, providing a wide view of the forests and lake in the distance. In here the decor is subdued, tawny golds and ash-grey stone with hints of green thrown here and there to brighten it. Monstrous creatures prowl the room's artwork, amalgam in shape -- lion heads, dragon wings, scorpion tails; small glass figurines hunch on the bookshelf and hang painted on the walls. A quiet moment in the early evening finds Micah sprawled out over the bed with a quilt pulled up over his legs, laptop open next to him and a nearly-finished blanket in purple-blue-and-white zigzagging stripes hanging from the knitting needles in his hands. There is a fresh mug of tea that smells faintly of pear sitting on a coaster on the bedside table. He is wearing his usual for such casual activities: Batsignal hoodie over a chocolate brown T-shirt (on which a stegosaurus is cursing a neighbouring T-rex for its 'sudden but inevitable betrayal'), and presumably a pair of faded jeans hidden under the quilt. He is taking a moment to count back over part of the pattern in the blanket before resuming his work on it. With a few teachers either gone or dead but classes back in session, extracurriculars and sports underway, Jackson has been back to very-busy even with his other jobs currently out of the picture. He isn't the swimming coach but the swimming coach has taken his family and headed out of state pre-quarantine, so for the moment he's playing temporary stand-in for the water polo team -- which, given that /they/ know far more about water polo than /he/ does largely just has meant making sure nobody drowns. He still smells very faintly like chlorine when he returns to their suite, dressed comfortably in sky-blue UFOs, a pale lavender Lorax t-shirt, mismatched bright-coloured armwarmers, a cheerful rainbow hoodie. He's still too-thin, still too-pale, but there's a bounce to his step as he heads in, stopping by the bed to press a quick kiss to Micah's cheek. "Hi, honey-honey." Nudgenudgenudge, he's kicking his shoes off to nudge Micah a little bit over so that he can claim bedspace to curl up on at the older man's side. "Ohgoshpurple. S'pretty. -- Y'ain't been goin' too crazy in here have you? I mean -- okay s'probably more to do here than at the Clinic."
“Hi, you.” Micah's face brightens in a broad smile as he sets the laptop and knitting aside, scooting to let Jax onto the bed but then immediately moving closer to wrap him in a tight hug. His nose twitches bunny-like at the scent of chlorine. “You been swimmin'? An ohgosh, no, I just sat down t'warm up for a second. Went fishin' with Spencer this mornin' before the first class that would let 'im sit in. Been out on a few food runs. Helped bring things in from the gardens. Went down t'the clinic an' made lunch there. Visited Lucien. He's still...not good.” His smile wavers a bit with that. “So, managed t'be a little busy. Not like usual, but enough not t'be a crazy.” "I been -- watchin' people chuck balls at each other in the water, s'like swimmin', right? Did get some laps in at lunchtime, though, but." Jackson grimaces for a moment. "-- not even close t'what I'm used to. The pups're gonna give me the scowliest faces -- I mean they usually outstrip me by miles but now it'll be by, like. Lightyears." Though it's not a very /serious/ grimace, back to a smile soon after as he nestles in closer, draping an arm across Micah's chest. "-- Good. Good. Sounds like good-busy, anyway. Well, not Luci, that's --" His head shakes against Micah's side, just before his phone buzzes in his pocket. He shifts slightly to take it out, unlock it to check his messages, and then he grimaces again. "Ohboy. Back in school three days an' already I'm gettin' pinged to chat about Shane. That's --" He pauses, before admitting: "-- like a day an' a half longer'n I thought it would take. Mmm -- y'up for a parent-teacher /Talk/, honey-honey, or I could meet him down in the staff lounge if not." “If it's not a /heated/ pool this time of year, s'crazy enough either way,” Micah teases, walking vaguely-tickly fingers across Jax's stomach. “I don't know that Shane's at his fastest right now, either, hon. Think the fair lot of us are in recovery mode for a minute. An', yeah, good-busy. Bein' helpful. Still sleepin' way more'n I have since I had that bullet hole in me. Yeah, Luci's not...he might need some atypical healin' help if he's gonna come back from this one.” He arches a brow at the relayed message. “I may as well go with; you'll just have t'tell me what happened after otherwise. Save the effort. Is the lounge where y'all typically do these things?” Jackson shivers beneath Micah's fingers, exhaling soft and happy. "Yeah, I think we might be recupin' from this'n for a fair bit." He presses his cheek to Micah's side, lips compressing. "-- We do know a couple'a folks what could manage atypical healin' help. If it comes t'that. Y'been by Geekhaus? Hive's kinda in the same boat, he got rid'a his -- people an' it did a /number/ on his brain." For a moment longer he indulges just in the quiet comfort of burrowing in close to Micah, but finally he looks back to his phone with a sigh. "Typically I -- ain't livin' at the school. He can come here, s'a closer haul from his room /or/ the art room than the lounge is."
Aloke appears at the door moments later in some light colored jeans, brown ugg boots, and a sweater-over-dress shirt combo, with the shirt sleeves rolled back over the sweater cuffs. The shirt is pale pink, with a dark gray knit sweater. "Hey guys," Aloke says, signing 'sorry' as the door swings open. "The door was open." He shrugs, smiles, and steps inside. “I'm more'n a little sure it might,” Micah replies with his voice a little too soft, eyes falling closed. “Hive. I would've said it wasn't a good idea for 'im t'do that until someone was set up t'help, but the way he was /already/ this time... I'm not sure what we're gonna do for 'im without Luci's help.” He nuzzles his forehead against Jax's neck as the illusionist fusses at his phone. “Not gonna argue. Just got all cozy an' warm in here.” Micah looks up a moment later as the door opens. “Goodness, but you're quick.” He pushes up into a more presentable sitting position. “Evenin', Aloke. How're y'doin'?” "I ain't sure if he waited much longer there'd even /be/ a chance'a him comin' back. I -- ain't sure," Jackson adds softer, "that he's comin' back even now." He sets his phone down after he sends his text message -- on Micah's chest -- his head tipping back slightly to accommodate nuzzling, a very faint glow blossoming beneath his skin that makes the backlit tattoos visible at his wrists look more akin to stained glass. "Yeah, I'll definitely take cozy an' warm over -- ohgosh." He straightens very abruptly, with a sudden deep flush, at the sudden Aloke!Entrance. "-- ohgosh, m's -- ohgosh, I forget that be-right-there with you means like /right/ there um -- hi. Hello. Hi. Sorry there's a -- chair um. Maybe the -- sittin' room would be more. Professional." His fingers scuff through his multicoloured hair; its disheveled state afterwards doesn't really add to /professional/ either. Aloke signs 'sorry' again, looking more than a little chagrined at barging in on the men. "Look, just before we get started on 'official business' and whatever, I never got to tell you..." Aloke clears his throat, finds a chair, and sits facing the bed. "How much our picnic in the park really saved me when I was... when my mutation went out of control. Ages ago. It was a happy memory that really helped me through that." The newly fifty-something smiles and looks down, a little embarrassed at his own sudden upwelling of emotion. “Oh...hon.” Micah's cheeks take on some reddish colour of their own, either in response to Jax's blushing or Aloke's message. “We'll have t'do it again some time...when the outdoors ain't full of cold an' bitey deadfolk.” When the older teacher finds a seat in the room, he just scoots up to sit on the edge of the bed, offering Jax a hand to do the same. His other hand is occupied in catching Jax's cell phone where it goes sliding off of him, having forgotten it was placed /on/ him that quickly. He passes it back to its proper owner, the 'reddish' in his cheeks finding a truer red. "Oh, gosh," Jackson says again, still furious red as the glow winks out of his skin. He slides to sit on the edge of the bed beside Micah, one leg tucked up beneath him. He takes the cell phone back, slipping it into his pocket. "That -- was a good day. A nice -- m'glad it helped you, honey-honey. Some day," he says a little wistfully, "we'll be able t'jus' hang out in a park again. Weren't /that/ long ago, even, I feel like the past couple weeks jus' feel like years." Aloke gives a small smile, and nods, still looking at the floor. "It was... years ago, for me. But that's not why I barged in on you." He looks up, a hint of a mischievous grin showing at the corner of his mouth. "I just... I'm so glad both of you are here, actually, because I need your advice with Shane." He holds up his hands to forestall any overt concerns. "Honestly, I think he's a good kid. I even /like/ him, despite his best efforts. I don't dare tell him how much reminds me of myself at that age. But... he's just so extreme. I thought maybe it was post-apocalypse trauma but, well, I went and checked my notes." Aloke shrugs awkwardly and says, "A lot of my memories from before my accident... they feel like twenty years ago. Anyway. I just... don't get it. I mean, I'm used to college-aged art kids - not exactly the most mannerly, or proper speaking. If it was just the cussing, I wouldn't even blink. But he's constantly just... pushing people away, and I don't get it. What does he /want/?" Aloke's grin earns yet a deeper shade of blush, an easy matter to sneak up on crimson once these things have gotten underway. Micah doesn't respond until the matter of Shane is broached. “Oh... Yes, he's a sweetheart, really, but he...has quite the creative mouth on 'im. It's not a recent development, though I wouldn't doubt if he's a little /amplified/ about it right now.” He scruffs his fingers through his already-tousled hair, mussing it worse. “I think he's tryin' t'keep folks at arm's length a lotta the time t'protect 'imself. T'seem all hard'n spiky t'everybody. He ain't had a lotta people bein' /kind/ to 'im in his life. Or any kinda stability.” He sighs heavily. “Jax might be able t'talk t'this better. He's...been with 'im longer.” Jackson lets out a heavy breath as Aloke speaks, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. "M'real so -- I apologize if he's been extra-special inappropriate at you," he says first, a small wince accompanying the words. "He don't hold much truck with manners on his best'a days an' since gettin' back here s'been kinda /extra/ hedgehog-prickle." He drops his hand to his knee, his brows furrowed deep. "I think he an' B both kinda operate under the constant assumption that everyone around 'em's gonna screw 'em over an' then toss 'em away. Bastian jus' acts on that by tryin' t'make himself as polite an' helpful as possible so's nobody'll want to but Shane kinda spins straight the other direction. S'like he's /darin'/ us to jus' give up an' get rid'a him, sometimes. I 'pologize that you been on the receivin' end'a it lately." The question of what Shane wants, though, tips his head slightly to one side. "-- He /wants/ you t'get mad at him. Things bein' calm an' quiet makes him a touch uneasy." Aloke nods and sits back in his chair sighing as Micah explains. When Jax elaborates though, his eyes literally light up with understanding. "Shit, I never thought of that," he says, apparently missing the irony of his own cussing in this context. Then he's waving his hand to dismiss Jax's concern. "No no, I mean /yes/. Wildly inappropriate things. He's made it clear he wouldn't /mind/ getting screwed over by me." Aloke frowns and rolls his eyes, before holding up his hand again. "It's fine, I mean, it was more common when I was at NYU, but it's not my first student advance. And I don't want you to say anything to him. He'd /love/ getting in trouble for it." Aloke shakes his head, a rueful grin spreading there. Micah just nods along with Jax's explanation, though Aloke's description of wildly inappropriate things deepens the flush on all of his visible skin once again. "Oh...oh/gosh/. Sometimes it's hard t'tell with Shane, if he's bein' inappropriate on purpose for the /reactions/ or if he honestly doesn't know exactly what's inappropriate. He didn't...get all the cultural norms drilled into 'im as a kid the way most of us do. So, he's kinda missin' the ingrained sense of modesty an' what not t'say an' who not t'do certain things with. It wouldn't be an issue, really, except for runnin' at odds with most people's sense of appropriateness an' makin' folks uncomfortable. I mean...he still propositions the both of us sometimes." A hand gestures between Jax and himself. "'Cause that's just not a strange thing t'do as far as he's concerned." Jackson's blush just deepens as well, and his fingertips curl inwards, picking absently at the mesh on one of his pants pockets. "Yeah," he affirms Micah's explanation, "when it comes to some kindsa inappropriate he actually -- don't even always really know he's bein' inappropriate. He don't got a whole lotta /filter/ 'tween brain-and-mouth an' growin' up he never had no reason to /need/ one. I don't -- think B honestly has a /whole/ lot better clue exactly about /why/ to do an' not do certain things, he's just way more concerned with bein' accepted so he works a lot harder to parrot what he's noticed other people doin'." He glances up to Aloke, and then down to his hand where his glittery-bright nails pick against his pants. "It ain't -- exactly that he'd love gettin' in trouble," he says, slower, careful. "When I say he wants you t'get mad at him maybe that weren't the most accurate -- mmnh. The thing is, the labs he grew up in -- sometimes when folks hear about it they wonder how anyone could hate us so much t'do the things they done. But the truth is they don't hate us. They just don't really care at all. Nobody hardly ever gets angry at you -- nobody really gets pleased with you, either. It's all just -- /clinical/. Shane -- really likes rilin' people up. S'like his reminder to himself that he's actually a person out here. That what he does actually /gets/ to someone. But he don't seem to honestly actually care /how/ you're riled. Angry just tends to be the /easiest/. But if people get /happy/-excited or scared or --" His blush deepens. "-- well, /any/ kinda -- /passion/. He's usually just as pleased. It's just when people are continuin' as-normal that it all don't sit right with him." "Thanks for sharing that Micah," Aloke says with a sympathetic smile. "I really appreciate it. I know this isn't easy to talk about. But I hope you two know the love I have for you, and your family. All I want is /good/ for you and yours." Aloke sighs, slouching back in his chair, scrubbing at the stubble on his cheek. It's too bad his beard comes in so patchy. He'd look super hot with a full beard. Aloke leans forward then, elbows on knees, head up to look at Jax while he explains. The expression on his face is one of such profound enlightenment, his eyes are almost hard to look right into, and light is even coming from inside his nose and mouth. "Holy shit, Jax, I'm so- {sorry}," Aloke catches himself and signs the word instead. "I didn't even think of the impact those fucking clinics... My apologies. But thank you for explaining. I'm sure that wasn't easy to say." Aloke keeps leaning forward, but relaxes his neck, looking down at the floor for a moment, gently shaking his head. "I'm just... kind of stuck then. I want to connect with him. But I'm not gonna /shout/ at him." Aloke taps his fingers together for a moment. "Is there an artistic style he likes?" "They just kinda went from cages an' experiments t'bein' visible mutants out in a world that wants t'hurt 'em, too. That's captured 'em an' put 'em in cages /again/ for its own amusement since. That's hurt an' killed their friends. Ain't no kinda way t'make a body /want/ t'follow rules an' learn how t'do what society wants. On account of society would like 'em not t'exist please-an'-thank-you." Micah rests his forehead in his hands for a few seconds. "Makes it hard t'even really /want/ t'correct the behaviour. What d'you tell 'im? He's gotta fall in line t'get a good job? When he knows most nobody's gonna wanna hire him? That he's gotta follow the rules t'do well in school...when he thinks that there isn't any point, 'cause most colleges won't even consider 'im? It's a whole lotta bad situation. An' hard t'wanna push 'im t'change on the /hope/ that somethin'll be different for 'im. Even if I do...hope that." He looks a little at a loss with the art question. "Um...I know 'Bastian makes some kinda found-art bone sculpture things. Ain't never /seen/ Shane gettin' into any physical art medium. Jax, you almost certainly know more about this than I do." "Yeah." Jackson admits this with a heavier weight to his tone, his fingers curling down hard against his leg once more. He curls his second leg up onto the mattress to join the first, tucking both beneath himself to kneel, hands fidgety in his lap. "S'always been a problem I've had -- not when it comes t'him mouthin' off t'people, /respectin'/ other folks is important whether it gains y'anything or not. But skippin' classes an' all his homework an' everything -- s'hard to find any reason for him /to/ do it that don't ring hollow. Don't matter how bright he is, ain't hardly any colleges gonna allow him. An' lookin' for work people are gonna look at his teeth way more than they look at his school transcript." He shakes his head at the art question. "B carves bones but Shane ain't so much into /makin'/ visual art even if he likes other people's. He does music. Likes t'--" Jackson's head tilts to one side, fingers now drumming against his knee. "-- Honestly, if y'want him to stop an' pay attention long enough t'connect with him, mebbe y'/should/ get physical. Find him in the gym an' spar with him. Get Kurt t'unlock the DR an' take him there t'blow off steam. Though it might --" Jax's shoulders tighten, hands pressing down against his knees, "-- have t'wait a li'l bit, he ain't. In no kinda good shape right now, this whole thing nearabout killed him." A fact which he sounds intensely guilty about. "Oh guys," Aloke rises smoothly and approaches the pair, nudging them gently apart so he can turn around and sit between them, putting and arm around both of them. "S'pologies. I didn't mean to put any of this on you. I don't think of Shane's behavior as your /fault/. You've both been /amazing/ parents to these boys, and they're lucky to have you." Aloke hugs both men tight against him on both sides, turning to each to kiss on the cheek. "And so am I. But Jax, you know I'm not much a fighter. How do you think... Shane would react if I ask him... to teach /me/?" “No, it's not...like that. Just wanted t'help you t'understand where he's comin' from an' why certain behaviours have persisted an' been /allowed/ to. If y'got any better ideas about it, you're welcome t'share with us, too. S'just...kinda where we are. I'm mostly goin' the try t'give 'em what they didn't have t'make 'em know that things /can/ be better route. Just hopin' that maybe they'll be less uncomfortable an' scared an' feelin' like they need t'keep throwin' up all these defense mechanisms.” Micah shrugs, then reaches an arm up to return a half-hug to Aloke. “I honestly don't know what he'd think of that. I know he thinks it's a good idea for everybody t'learn how t'fight. For real. Just don't know what his take on teachin' you 'imself would be.” Jackson returns the hug, too, a quick squeeze of very fiercely-hot arm around the older man's waist. He's quiet, pensive at this question. "-- I think he'd be down," he ventures, though it's a little uncertainly. "He do think s'real important to be able to defend yourself." Jackson grimaces down at his other hand, still in his lap. "-- an' maybe these days more'n ever it is." He blushes deep again at the peck on the cheek. "Thank you. For -- comin' to talk t'us, lotsa people just jump straight into angry with him. Though I guess s'a little bit what he's always bankin' on." | |
