Logs:Step by Step

Step by Step
Dramatis Personae Leonidas, Scott
In Absentia	2024-06-12 "... maybe he forgot about me falling out of the sky."
Location <XAV> Hallway - Basement
The basement at Xavier's is often a little quieter than the rest of the school, and even more so while school isn't in session, with students enjoying the weeks off and the bright summer weather rather than driving their teachers to take refuge in the staff lounge. Today it has been pretty quiet down here -- quiet in terms of activity, not noise, right now there is the distinctly noisy sound of a cordless drill/driver. This hallway usually ends in a plain, unremarkable locked door and keycard scanner, definitely off-limits to students but trying not to be off-limits in a tantalizing way. Right now it just ends in an empty, battered frame, the once and future door leaning against the wall off to one side. Mr. Summers is standing where the door used to be, letting the strike plate and its sole remaining screw drop from the splintered wood into his waiting palm; by happy accident he's wearing the exact same outfit he had on when this door was broken. "You could probably do all this without my help," he's saying almost apologetically, stepping into the forbidden side of the doorframe to drop the hardware into a Ziploc baggie already containing the hinges, sitting in the open top compartment of his toolbox. "You know what your next step is?" “Well we tried to sneak in, so you kind of have to watch me.” Leonidas doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He’s transitioned into a pair of white coveralls for the labor, though it does seem largely unnecessary. “Normally you can get away with using wood filler, but I did a number on it. So,” he produces a chisel and begins carefully prying the door stop and molding off, working while he speaks, “I need to get this off, then mark the area about five inches under and over the break, cut it out, trim a replacement, then glue and nail it in. Gonna take that about an hour to set. Then it’s just a matter of repainting it, removing the jamb, and cutting out a new one.” "'Sneak' is pretty generous. You two tried to break in." But Scott doesn't seem too fussed about this either, kids will be kids. He tucks his hands into his pockets to watch Leonidas work, thumbs tapping a neat, steady rhythm against his belt loops. "Getting pretty good at this," he says. "Forgot to put the door back in, at the end there, but let's take it one thing at a time." Probably he would love to just stand here staring, but after a moment he tears his eyes away, squats in front of his toolbox. The toolbox isn't meticulously organized but the clatter as Scott rummages through it is kind of perfunctory, he knows exactly where everything is. "I can't say I hope you'll be have to put these skills to good use the rest of your life, but I am glad you have them. Good things to know as an independent adult." “I’m heavy, break a lot of stuff even if I don’t mean to.” Leonidas sets the material aside and pulls a strip of tape and a sharpie from his pocket, quickly marking the area off and waiting for the tools to finish. “Eh, work’s work. Could go to law school or something, but I don’t think I’m quite eloquent enough for that. Sure I’m book smart and all, but I’m also a giant that weighs about as much as a Prius. I wanna help people, but it feels like the only options are vigilante or being an X-Man.” His expression drops and he looks directly at Scott now. “That stands for Xavier’s, doesn’t it?” Scott passes Leonidas a small hand saw before he gets back to his feet, one hand clutching a pry bar. "Being a vigilante probably won't pay the bills," he says. "Neither will being an X-Man, unfortunately. Have you thought about college, other than law school? I'm sure you can think of plenty of other ways to help people without needing to be an eloquent speaker. They just won't be as badass as being a vigilante." He turns the pry bar around in his hands a few times -- "Yeah, it stands for Xavier," he says, and shrugs. "Plus, easy to spell." “Could get a business degree and end up a mid level manager with an alcohol problem.” Leonidas is probably attempting to be funny, but it’s hard to tell from his expression. The actual sawing takes very little time, the blade not getting stuck once. “Half tempted to start a moving company. I’m not so hot with the advertising though. Not sure what I’m going to do.” He sighs softly and steps away from the door frame to see the scrap wood down. “No matter how hard I think about the future I just draw blanks. Didn’t think I’d make it this far.” Even if Leonidas is trying to be funny, Scott treats it with little humor himself -- he asks "Do you want to do that?" with grave seriousness. He holds out the pry bar, though perhaps with Leonidas's strength (and with this part of the door jamb already too warped to salvage) it's not needed. "I'm sure I know people who know people who could help you with advertising," he says. "You don't have to do everything by yourself. Even for you that'd be a lot to carry." He picks through the wood he's brought as replacements, holds one up to the gap to test its length, then hands it to Leonidas to mark and trim down. "When I was your age, I was a lot more fixated on what I couldn't do than what I could," he says. "It can be --" his train of thought is stalling; he taps the length of wood he didn't choose against his palm for a few seconds. "I know I couldn't see past that at the time," he says. "But -- sometimes, all you need to be able to see is the next step." “No. I’m not really sure what I want.” Leonidas takes the replacement piece and makes a few marks before starting to cut it to shape and applying glue. “I don’t mind getting a blue collar job. They pay pretty good and I can do what a forklift does without needing a certification.” "You could do that," Scott agrees -- for now he has nothing to do, so he has put his hands back in his pockets, gaze still (presumably) fixed on Leonidas as he works. "You could definitely help people that way too, you know, with or without being a human forklift. Don't feel like you have to have everything figured out already, anyway, there's no shame in doing something else for a while. Work is work, right?" Leonidas nods once, lining the nails up before just pushing them into place with his thumb. “Work’s work.” He finally agrees. “Probably try and find a laborer job on a construction site, look into college. Should at least have enough money for a year or two of rent without a roommate.” Has Scott seen Leonidas do this before? He's stifling a laugh, compressing it into a noise midway between a cough and a sneeze. "I bet I can put you in touch with a construction company, if you want," he says. "I know a guy who needs some work done. As luck would have it, I bet you do too." “… maybe he forgot about me falling out of the sky.” Leonidas clearly thinks he knows who Scott is talking about it. “If you’d put in a word for me, I’d appreciate it.” Scott may not have context for this, and he isn't asking either way -- "Sorry to say," he says regretfully, "he remembers pretty much everything. And it's no problem." He gives the doorframe a bracing, affectionate pat, carefully avoiding the still-drying glued section, and -- with an air of moving on -- "Next step."