5 May 2015
<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.
More days than not, there's some variety of snacks to be found on perched on an end of the bar -- quite often in the form of fresh-baked desserts.
The school during the morning breakfast rush is a fairly bustly place -- which is possibly why Jax, lately, has been tucked away down in the basement until first bell. The teachers' lounge right now smells mocha-y -- not actual coffee (although there is /that/, too, percolating in the machine) but a tray of coffee-chocolate chip muffins sitting on the counter. It does not take much guessing to figure out their supplier; the very colourful artist is curled up in an armchair in the corner, a muffin of his own on a plate and a large mug of coffee on the table in front of him. He has his laptop on his lap, legs tucked up underneath him and his eyes hidden beneath a pair of mirrored dark glasses as he scans the screen.
Percolating coffee and muffins are two very good reasons to be in the lounge for breakfast, especially when mocha muffins are pretty much asking to be dunked in coffee. Micah has one of those, tearing chunks off to dip before munching on them. His own laptop is open with a lesson plan pulled up, though he isn't paying it much mind. The costume of the morning is his typical TARDIS-blue polo shirt and khakis, hair still relatively tidy, in preparation for moving from one job to the next after his class is over.
"Good morning," Billy coos cheerfully. There's a light sheen of sweat across his forehead as he graces the room with his clean white presence. The faint antiseptic scent that floats around him and in his wake is stronger on a hot morning, when he perspires more.
"Oh, thank you, coffee angels - whichever of you made the first pot," he offers a broad, bleachy smile. Behind his clunky white wayfarers, his delicate nose is marred by an oblong circle of white discoloration that anyone who may have known him for a long time might be able to identify as a bruise. It spreads some, to just under one of his left eye. Shouldering the strap of his briefcase, he moves quickly over to rinse out his travel mug.
Jax shrinks slightly back into his seat reflexively when the door opens, though relaxes again faintly when Billy enters. "G'mornin'!" His nose twitches as though stifling a sneeze; he glances up with a small smile that soon shifts into a tip of head, a furrow of brow. "Oh yeah. I made coffee. I pretty much can't function without caffeine -- s'you hurt?" His brows lift from behind the sunglasses, his mild tone -- slightly concerned. Slightly curious. Bruises around these parts, maybe not such an unusual occurrence. The brow stays furrowed, though.
“Mornin', hon,” Micah greets with a wave of muffin-chunk. “S'pretty much the truth. He's runnin' on equal parts caffeine, sugar, an' sunlight.” Not that he's much one to talk, with coffee-things in both hands. The mention of hurt draws a wince and a second glance. “S'everythin' okay?”
Back facing the concerned parties, Billy runs the faucet. "It isn't broken," he chimes, filling the glass with clean water and pouring it out before moving to fill it with perfect, black coffee. "Anette Eccleston punched me in the face." Drawing in a breath, he turns back to face them with a faltering smile, "But there's context. It's like, silly."
"-- Oh." The crease doesn't actually /leave/ Jax's brows. The scrunch of his cheek suggests that his eye /would/ be squinting up, though it is on the side where he does not actually have one. "That," he says, a little puzzled -- and then a long blank pause before he finishes a little apologetically, "... sounds kinda like high school." His expression relaxes; he follows up to ask, "Silly?"
Micah's confusion stems from a greater lack of context than the classmates share. “She...who? Why? When was...? You're sure you're okay?” It might be he's having trouble putting together why someone who knows Billy would feel the need to throw a punch in his direction. A faint blush creeps up his cheeks as he thinks for a moment. “Apologies, I shouldn't be pryin'. Had enough of ridiculous reporters askin' after if /I'm/ bein' abused for a minute there. Must be rubbin' off.” His words descend into a bit of a mumble as he busies his mouth with muffin and coffee instead.
"It does sound a lot like high school," Billy agrees darkly, very careful as he adjusts his glasses, "We went here, with Anette." He explains to Micah, before delving further ...if only to alleviate concern. "My uhm-the guy I'm seeing, got the idea in his head that I'd benefit from a few self-defense lessons. She and some looney toon she's running around with got some money out of him." He holds up both hands, "No need to gather the troops. Unless, it's to question Trib's judgement." He sighs out a bit of a laugh, arching an eyebrow as he turns a blind eye to the pair to pour some sugar and cream into his mug.
Jax's cheeks flush darker at the mention of Micah possibly-being-abused, his head tipping back down towards his computer screen. "... sorry, honey-honey," is just a quiet mumble. A small flutter of light ripples around him -- dim at first, though a little brighter and faster at the mention of Trib. His brow creases again. "... Trib? That ain't... a real common name, is it."
“Shh, no. Ain't your fault folks is stupid an' reporters're sensationalists with a particular story they're tryin' t'sell.” Micah's tone ranges from entirely soothing toward the beginning to vaguely disgusted by the end. He nods along with the story, sipping from his coffee, and unfortunately choking on it a bit by the mention of that name. The muffin and cup are abandoned to a nearby table for a moment while he coughs the hot liquid clear, eyes watering.
Oblivious, Billy arches into a chair, setting down his drink and drawing his briefcase to his lap. "No way, it isn't," he peers down into his folders, finger through them before producing one and setting it out in front of him, "Honestly, I've just tried to stop watching the news if I can help it." Doe eyes flicking up after Micah, Billy pauses in his shuffling about, "You okay?"
"Is that Trib like -- huge. Big. Giant looking guy who -- was. In the cops' -- fighting --" Jax's jaw clenches here, the light rippling around him again. His lips press together, and he slides out of his seat and over next to Micah, patting at his husband's back. "It's just -- if that's -- you datin' him is. A little. Unexpected." His previously warm voice has turned slightly stilted.
Some hacking and ragged breathing later, Micah just looks a bit like he woke up that morning and decided to have a good cry, then forgot to wash his face after. "Okay, yeah. Apologies." Cough. "Complete design flaw, puttin' the food bits an' the breathin' bits through the same orifice. Recipe for unpleasantness." Some of the red in his face might be a worsening of his blushing, but it's hard to tell at this point. He fishes a water bottle out of the messenger bag at his feet to take slow sips, giving Jax an appreciative nod for the patting. And leaving the Trib questions to him for now.
"I don't know about that other stuff but sounds like him?" Billy watches the pair carefully for a moment. A Stepford-wife smile lingers across his mouth as he waits out Micah's very suspicious coughing fit and takes in the little signs of Jax's apprehension. After collecting his thoughts, he pops his head on his neck in true blonde fashion, "What's up?" His blonde eyebrows slowly rise over the rim of his glasses.
The red in Jax's cheeks deepens. His head shakes, just slightly. "He -- My family an' -- some'a the students here jus' don't have the best'a histories with him." His fingers knead firmly at Micah's back once the coughing subsides. "I -- recollect he done brought you in the Clinic that one time but I -- never knowed you two was --" His head shakes sharply. "Ain't none'a my business, nohow."
Micah eventually finds a handkerchief in his pocket to rub over his eyes, reducing the look to something more akin to a spring allergy sufferer. He leans readily into the kneading of Jax's hands, giving a little nod of agreement with the words. “S'just some old history an' a bit of a surprise hearin' the name.”
Billy withdraws somewhat in his chair, slinking his hands into his lap from where they were on the table. He pouts, slowly tilting his head, "No need to be coy, gentlemen." He pants out a laugh, "You're freaking me out, a little. ...of course, it's your business."
"'pologies." Jax's fist lifts to circle his heart. "I ain't tryin' to be -- it's just kinda been a long while an' I don't want to drag up -- not in the middle of your relationship an' -- start trouble with --" He lifts his hand further, scrubbing knuckles against his cheek. His shoulders sag heavily. "'pologies," he says again. "Didn't mean t'freak you out. Jus' kinda a long old story." He rises a little stiffly, an apologetic half-smile on his face. "I should prob'ly be gettin' ready for class, I think."
Again, Micah nods agreement with Jax's words. “If y'all been in a relationship for some time, sure enough y'know 'im better'n ever we did. If you're safe an' well an' happy, that's all that matters, right?” He reclaims the last of his muffin to finish it off quickly, tucking away handkerchief in pocket and water bottle in messenger bag. The remaining coffee can easily enough travel with him to his desk. “Prob'ly all should be movin' along.”
Billy doesn't make any effort to indulge the couple as they fumble for an escape, even going as far as to not acknowledge either of them politely excusing themselves.. The blonde knits his brow, continuing to pout and slumping down a bit further into his chair.
Jax's blush does not fade. He gathers up his computer, though the muffin and coffee are left behind as he mumbles his goodbye and makes his somewhat hasty escape.
The flush of Micah's cheeks only worsens where the red should be fading now that he's breathing again. “Look, honey... We didn't mean t'upset you. If y'really wanna know, ask Trib first, okay? He'll know exactly what y'mean. If y'still wanna hear the other side of it after, that's fair. But it don't feel like our place t'drag the whole thing up, is all.” He offers a weak-apologetic smile before nodding his own farewell, bustling his bundled goods out the door toward his classroom.
Billy parts his lips to argue against this, but is too weak willed and closes them once more. He mirrors Micah's weak smile and nods in return. Alone in the lounge, he lets out a scoff. Shaking his head, he looks down to the papers in front of him, but just stares right through them.