Logs:Moment of Need

Moment of Need
Dramatis Personae Charles, Scott
In Absentia	2024-03-25 "We take care of our own."
Location <XAV> Residential Dean's Office
There are relatively few personal effects in the Residential Dean's (actual) office, save for a few framed photos and a diecast model of a sleek black muscle car in the hutch of Scott's L-shaped computer desk. The rest of his space has been devoted to printouts and papers -- stacked in manila folders in plastic trays, leafed into neatly labeled three-ring binders on his shelves, and probably filling up the wall of sleek black filing cabinets that extends from behind him out to the opposite corner. There is room for four comfortable-ish chairs opposite the desk for guests, but three of those chairs have been lined up by the wall next to the door to create more maneuverable floor space. It has been over a week since Scott received first correspondence that he should reorganize the faculty and X-Man schedules spring quarter, and there is really no excuse for how long it has taken him to actually do it. Or maybe there is -- he has several pages of schedules carefully sketched out in pencil on graph paper, which he is only now having trouble digitizing, frowning first at his handwritten notes and then at Excel with a troubled, perplexed expression. Probably he is no more perplexed than he would be for any technical difficulty he faces -- and he runs into any number of technical difficulties in this job, as a forty-something teacher who did not grow up with the World Wide Web -- but there is a layer of distress and anxiety overwriting his mental processes that is slightly uncharacteristic of him. Oh well -- things have been weird all year, and Scott is (very characteristically) soldiering through. There's no knock at the open door, but the warmth that precedes Charles shifts subtly -- and directionally, somehow -- in a way that indicates he intends to engage and is not just passing near. The headmaster himself appears in the doorway momentarily and enters. "What's troubling you?" he asks without preamble, in a way he would not with most of his staff. Layered beneath the words is an easy assurance the question does not *need* an answer, or in any event *Charles* does not need one. Only, it is the start of term and the school still overcapacity, and Charles being a chronic worrier is worried Scott might *himself* be overcapacity. "Perhaps you could ask Cerebro for help? He might complain about your training schedule less if he has a hand in it." He pauses a beat. "But probably not." Scott lifts his head slightly -- he does not manage to pull his face into a smile, though he is offering a (slightly wan) mental welcome that feels similar; he rolls his desk chair sideways so that his focus is more squarely on Charles, rather than his computer monitor. "You don't think we overtax the staff, do you?" he responds, also without preamble. << The X-Men, >> he is clarifying mentally, are his main cause for concern at the moment, although the rest of the school's staff is not far behind. He presses his fingertips to one sheet of graph paper to angle it more perpendicularly to the edge of his desk; he gives Charles's suggestion only a cursory consideration, the corners of his lips quirking with fond amusement. "Probably not," he agrees readily, << but I wouldn't want to deprive him the opportunity to complain. >> He swivels slowly in the chair, reaching with one hand to stroke his chin. "I was thinking about our conversation last week," he adds conversationally. "I think 'hourly' is the way to go, particularly when I factor in panic button calls, but --" he tilts his head dismissively at the computer -- "I'm having some trouble pinning down the median salary for, uh, unauthorized... humanitarian work." "I do think all the faculty and staff have been stretched rather thin, yes, and the recruitment situation is..." Charles does not sigh, but his lips compress in a way that suggests he has just suppressed the urge to do so. "...not in your wheelhouse, luckily. I should not like to trouble you with it until Jean inevitably calls a staff meeting about it. The extent to which your team interface with the student body is highly irregular, and perhaps that work ought to be assessed separately from the --" He almost manages not to pause, here. Almost. "-- unauthorized humanitarian work." His telepathic subtext makes it clear he thinks Scott has a better read on the X-Men than he does, but all the same, "It is yet another reason I think it ought to be discussed with them. There are factors to consider that cannot be pinned down with numbers." His psionic aura intensifies with a vague sense of apology and comfort. << If it would ease your conscience, I do not think Cere is overtaxed. Regardless, I pay him whatsoever he asks, as the sheer breadth and complexity of the services he provides are likely impossible for anyone else to assess. >> There's a deep worry of his own twined around and through and behind those thoughts, but his rueful smile is genuine enough when he adds, << And I assure you, no force on Earth will stop him grousing if it pleases him to do so. >> Scott nods, his expression inscrutable, though mentally his thought processes are easy to track, flitting through each team member in turn in the cursory manner of thumbing through a file. It hiccups just once, though Scott was blurring so quickly through names and codenames (without faces attached) that perhaps it is not obvious where. He drops his gaze back to the pages in front of him on the desk, his brow furrowing just slightly with mild complaint that he would really prefer if all the factors were numerical. Though mentally he leans into Charles's light, sympathetic nudge, he admits a moment later that he was listening more to his pride than his conscience when he opted not to solicit Cerebro's processing power, torn between self-reliance he holds near and dear, and a self-conscious admission that << Cerebro could have done this in about five seconds, probably. >> He gathers all his graph paper back into a pile, carefully squaring the corners, and says, "The team will definitely miss having Matt around, while he's off." This is a mere observation, with no deep thought or emotion underlying it, but when he goes on -- "How was he holding up, when you went to see him, did he seem okay? I know he and his brother were close." -- there is an edge of interest. Probably not more interest than he would have in any team member's wellbeing. Perhaps because it did not obviously cause Scott further distress, Charles makes no noticeable effort to discern who on the team brought him up short. << Cere would also rather prefer that, which is why I wouldn't recommend seeking his assistance on the matter of compensating your team. >> Aloud, gentle and without reproof, "I do think sometimes you forget that you have a team outside of trainings and missions. Some of them are quite adept at..." He conveys the sense that he is leafing literal-figuratively through the great library of language in his mind. "...logrolling, as it were, among other soft skills. And I do not think for the most part they would feel obligated to..." His brows pinch faintly with the realization -- founded in Hive's guidance of his clumsy overtures at compensating the Lassiter raid team -- that making the X-Men proper staff might inadvertently make some of them feel obligated to do more work for the team than they otherwise prefer. He appends this sheepishly to the mental list of non-numerical factors in the periphery of Scott's attention. "Speaking of soft skills, I do think Matthieu will be missed for more than just his affability and wordplay." The question, though, brings Charles up short. "They were exceptionally close," he agrees abstractedly, not quite frowning though his face is certainly pulling in that direction far more transparently than he is wont to show, even with Scott. "But he seemed -- okay, yes. It is fortunate he and his siblings have their mother's support in a time like this." "Mmgh," is Scott's full-throated agreement with Charles; though verbally it just sounds a little grumpy, he is slotting this new non-numerical factor into a collection that already seems jumbled and impossible to entangle -- he includes, as an afterthought and possibly as a joke, a quick mental comparison to an old-fashioned wooden logic puzzle, with looped strings, metal rings, and large round beads (he doesn't actually remember the configuration of the puzzle.) Tapping one index finger very lightly on the padded armrest, he inclines his head slightly. "Mm," is a slightly softer agreement, though he means it no less -- there is a twinge of -- well, grief is a tad strong, perhaps it's merely regret, when he thinks of Matt. "I was meaning to check on Sera, too," he said. "And I know Gaétan's not really in our purview anymore, but..." this trails off, and he tilts his head, trying to pull up a memory from what feels like a lifetime ago, of Matt in his (other) office demanding, 'What the fuck?' when Gaétan first disappeared, and offers this up almost as if asking for confirmation -- that mother? Swiveling the desk chair absent-mindedly again, he adds aloud, "She was at the house when you stopped by? I can tell Jean to put her name on the card, too, I hadn't realized she was in town." Charles somewhat automatically corrects Scott's mental image of the puzzle. "Sera is back on campus, if you want to take a turn at letting her humiliate you at chess." This is possibly a joke, as well. "As for Gaétan...well." He doesn't look or sound miffed, and the warmth of his presence does not waver, but the faint press of his fingertips into his padded armrest tells of his displeasure. "Every former student is within our purview, not just the ones who graduate." He does not immediately confirm Scott's not-quite request for confirmation, and this time the warmth around them does flutter faintly with the intensity of his contemplation. "To the best of my knowledge, yes, that was Ms. -- Elie Tessier. The situation was unfortunate, but Prometheus had a plethora of means to compel those under its power." His brows were starting to furrow again, but then relax. It sounds almost like an afterthought when he actually replies, "I did meet her when I dropped by, yes. She's a very lovely woman, and strong, too." Probably nobody else would have spotted Scott's abashment at his mentor's displeasure in the twitch of his mouth, minute as both of their reactions are. << Does he still want to be in our purview? >> is probably left unspoken only because Scott is aware it is a little defensive. He is turning 'the situation was unfortunate' around in his head, perhaps dwelling on it -- not just the situation but this phrasing. "It is fortunate," he says mildly, after a brief pause, "that they have each other's support. At -- times like this." He is not looking directly at Charles, though his head hasn't moved at all -- he is running his fingertips over the textured stitching on his armrest. "That's a shame," he muses after a moment, "to have just been reunited with her family, and have so little time to spend with her son." "It's a fair question," Charles allows, not too graciously. "I don't know, and I don't think it's necessarily straightforward for him, either. But even if he doesn't, anymore, he may change his mind. I would just..." He doesn't actually slump, but there's a hint of it in his psionic aura. "It may not seem likely to be relevant for him in particular--or Desi--but I want the school to always remain somewhere those who pass through here can always turn to in a moment of need. Not everyone has a family like his." He bows his head minutely at Scott's assessment of Elie's situation."It is, quite. I ought've spent a bit more time with her, but she had work to do and well do I know that can be healing in itself." He breathes a small, restrained sigh. "But it is a bloody shame." Scott nods slowly; now << moment of need, moment of need, moment of need >> is lingering like an itch in his mind, or an earworm, until (perhaps as a courtesy) he wrangles it away. "I know," he says aloud, though there is no insolence or impatience at a sentiment he must have heard before -- it is almost as though he's hearing this anew. "We take care of our own." Now he is looking directly at Charles, from behind his opaque glasses, only for a moment before he looks back down at his work, his hands going still on the armrests of his chair as he looks at the names of his X-Men. Any emotion has been shuttered neatly away -- perhaps that was the first to go when he so politely constructed some psionic shields -- but what sticks now before he clamps down again is, << Not everyone has a family like his. >> He lets out a tight, strained breath of his own, and to Charles's last words, too, Scott unhesitatingly and silently agrees, << shame. >>