ArchivedLogs:Blunt

Blunt
Dramatis Personae Mary, Shane, Inès	2014-11-06 '
Location <XS> Gymnasium - B1
For a mutant school, this is a pretty standard gym, even if its sturdy construction to handle mutant powers is less standard. Still, it is designed along normal lines; setup for a basketball court, standard equipment -- punching bags, rubber mats, standard assortment of balls, weight training equipment, the usual fare. It is large, and as well-appointed as the rest of Xavier's tends to be. Mid-afternoon around the school bustles! Bright! Vibrant! A lot livelier than /class/ time when half the students (and half the teachers, too, maybe) are kiiind of dragging their way through the day. But Thursday classes finish early, letting out into the general clamour of Extracurricular Time, sports and clubs for those so inclined and for those who aren't, free time to play and laze about before /homeworks/ starts with a vengeance. The large gym sees a fair amount of traffic through the period between classes and dinner, some people just using it for their own personal training though along one side it's much clearer that an /actual/ practice is underway. Or wrapping up, anyway; a group of students largely in gym shorts and tees (though along the nearby bleachers there's a number of discarded face-masks and thick white protective gear and swords) running through a series of drills focused largely on footwork and posture. It seems like there's a /lot/ of footwork involved. One of the would-be fencers is a veeery tiny blue -- boy? Girl? It's really hard to /tell/, there's very little in the makeup of Shane's facial features that maps to normal human markers of things like age or race or gender. A very tiny blue /fishkid/, gilled and with a /wealth/ of shark-sharp teeth currently on display as the training lets out; he's slinging his arm around the waist of a taller dark-haired dark-skinned girl, leaning into her like he's Totally About To Collapse. She laughs, pushing him away to snag a bottle of water from the gear strewn around the bleachers and chug it thirstily. "Suck it up, we've been through worse." Shane ambles farther away to get his /own/ water, not drinking it but instead splashing it on his face and gills. "Not after the seventeen /million/ tacos I had at lunch, we haven't." And Mary? She's in her professional workout gear, looking more like gym coach than doctor. That's what people do in gyms, right? She's got a pair of glasses on (one of those electronic video-viewer accessories?) and underneath, one one of her eyes, is an eyepatch of sorts. All very utilitarian and lacking in flash. The woman herself is large. Large bone structure, toned, but thick muscles... In all honesty, she's sort of angular and a tad on the conventionally masculine side without a whole lot of curve thrown in. Entering the gym with a leisurely stride, however, she is compelled to turn off the device and fold it over the edge of her workout shirt, as she sees the people working out already. Her eyes dilate slightly, but otherwise, there is little in the way of visible reaction. In fact, she seems to lack virtually any normal reactions. Like someone built a humanoid robot but forgot to give it any body language or similar. Uncanny Valley indeed. Inhale. She tilts her head up slightly, and sniffs, then approaches the 'would-be' fencers. She centers on the dark-haired, dark-skinned girl, and shark-kid, and then looks down. A moment of silence follows, and then a single, neutrally voiced query follows,"I have not closely observed this discipline. Would I offend by observing?" Pause. "Seventeen million tacos. Impressive metabolism." Was that a joke? Shane pauses, webbed fingers cupped around another splashful of water. His huge eyes open even bigger, the hairless ridge of his brow hiking upward. His hand lifts, at a delay, to press the water against the side of his neck, holding it against the sharp slits of gills there. "Who the fuck are you?" The other girl prods him in the side with her water bottle. "I /think/ what Shane means is hi and welcome and are you the new teacher? There's," she informs Shane, "a new teacher. -- I'm Ines." "Shit. The hell do we need more --" Shane stops at another prod, instead turning a bright tooooothy smile up (up! up! up! Tall people look /even/ taller from his sub-five-foot height) to Mary. "/Yo/." And then: "There's a lot of impressive metabolisms around here. Plus --" He holds up one very blue hand! "-- I'm pretty much like the TARDIS." "Don't swear at me." Not 'don't swear'. Just 'don't swear at ME'. "I don't like it." Not 'don't because I'm a teacher'. Though from her lack of facial expression and tone, her directly informing someone of that is the ONLY way they'll find out. "I've not spent the time to master the art of fencing, and it seems pleasantly vigorous by its nature." The woman looks down at Ines, eyes examining the girl, and then presents her hand a moment later,"I am... new, yes. Doctor Mary Carruthers. A pleasure to meet you... Miss Riera. Holland-Zedner, I believe is your patronymic... Shane. I'm unaware of your prefered gendered honorific, or if you even have one, I'm afraid. Apologies." She moves to go find a seat on a bleacher and looks out over the gym. "I suppose you mean that you are 'larger inside than out'? That must be in turns troublesome and useful." She examines Shane for a moment, then asks, of them both, "Tell me. Are you familiar with the concept of radical honesty?" Shane's head tilts, clear inner eyelids closing in a quick blink. For a moment he's quiet, then dips his head in a quick nod. "Sure, okay. Wait does that include swearing just, like, /around/ you, it's like a terrible fu... terrible habit. Can't break." "Don't want to break," Ines carols in correction, leaning forward to clasp Mary's hand in a quick firm squeeze (it comes with a very faint /jolt/ like a small bit of static shock.) "Is that like, being crazy-blunt, because Shane's got that /down/. There's like /zero/ filter between his brain and his mouth. -- Holy cow, did you already memorize the directory or something?" Shane's teeth bare more fiercely. "I /have/ a filter I just choose to ignore it. Are you doctor like you're gonna be poking at us down in the medbay or doctor like I-went-to-school-for-freaking-ever-and-now-I'm-gonna-philosophize at you?" Once again, a small smile from Ines; once again a Shane-to-politespeak translation: "What are you going to be teaching?" "I really don't care if you swear around me. I've been exposed to far worse, I assure you. During office hours, however, I will enforce policy if it becomes disruptive to learning. You have been fairly warned." If the jolt startles Mary, then like everything else, it fails to register visibly. As for the question of memorizing the directory, she nods, merely noting,"Yes. As for radical honesty... it is a philosophy that most modern human stress derives dishonesty. Foremost, it prevents any real intimacy between people. Therefore, being honest about even painful or taboo subjects is most healthy. I practice this most of the time, with exceptions for safety concerns. Your friend, Holland-Zedner, is hardly offensive to me, as such." She is quiet as if thinking over her answer on her 'education' before she actually finds a way she considers suitable to answer. "I teach Challenges of Nocturnal Living, Philosophy of Learning, and differing grades of Self-Defense, though I'm not holding a master class until the summer or next fall semester." "/Huh/." Shane's expression relaxes into a brighter sort of interest. "Well, nobody's ever accused me of /dishonesty/ -- okay except for that one asshole," he amends with a crooked smile, "but he doesn't count -- usually people are cranky at me the other way around. I gotta learn when to keep my mouth /shut/." "There is a balance, you know. /Tact/ doesn't mean lying." Ines shrugs, sipping at her water again. "/Philosophy of Learning/, what's -- what /is/ that?" She asks this at about the same time Shane asks: "Challenges of Nocturnal Living? That sounds hella awesome what do you even /teach/ in that?" "Echolocation," Ines replies brightly. "I would say, from my own practice of the discipline, that it is more honest and far more productive to tell somebody 'I dislike you' than spending ten minutes deciding how to insult them covertly, directly, or hold in the urge to insult them... when really it all began with the simple desire to tell them I dislike them." Ines gets her question answered first. "It's a philosophy class designed to explore the nature of knowledge and learning, and hopefully improve the quality of how you go about learning. It includes practical applications in addition to the named philosophical concerns. It is my belief learning is innate, but quality, practiced learning is not." She rises to her feet, then, and walks along the edge of the bleacher seat, hands in pockets, and balancing oh-so-precariously. "Challenges of Nocturnal Living covers a wide array of things. The first parts cover techniques for everyday life for those whose biology or lifestyle prevent them from living normally during the day, while also helping them become more aware of rarely thought of the problems. The second half covers more esoteric issues and is essentially wilderness survival that covers high levels nocturnal activity where one cannot on an abundance of light for one's own safety." Pause. "Yes. Miss Riera, including navigating with sound. Though I would not say MOST of it approaches the level of echolocation." "We have like a fuckton of those," Shane says, "night-people I mean. Lots of --" His hands flick towards his own huge eyes, "vision things and -- actually, I know a guy who's a bat." He informs Mary of this brightly. "/And/ a programmer. I think it's the coding that makes him nocturnal, though. Not the vampire bat thing." "We still do have kind of a lot of people /adapted/ for night -- or," Ines allows, a little bit more solemnly, "-- it can just be way more convenient when there's less people around to --" "Throw rocks at you and call you a freak?" Shane's grin is more amused at this than bitter, though his demon-face features and blue skin might imply he's /experienced/ this more than once. "Yeah, night's great. Quiet. Better. When are you gonna offer that class? My schedule is all full this term but. I have two more terms to go!" He turns, slightly, eyes following Mary's path along the bleachers. "... You know," there's a quiet appreciation in his tone, though whether it's for the balancing or the worldview espoused is a little ambiguous, "I can feel you on that -- dealing with people thing. I mean, it's gonna save us both a lot of wasted time if we just. Are up front about shit, right?" "I intend to offer it as a repeating single semester class unless interest in expanding it to a full year is sufficient. I do not, myself, have a biological need to live nocturnally. I have, however, found it useful in my previous employment, to conduct my life at night during less than ideal situations." She turns as she balances, and begins to walk back in the other direction. "If you never find time in your schedule, I will be happy to allow you to audit post-graduation as befits your knees. I still teach outside of official hours, for those who have unconventional scheduling needs and my family is very understanding." The woman's neck moves almost mechanically separate from her torso as she flicks her eye between Ines and Shane,"A lot of wasted time, yes. And wasted tears. And feelings. Due to my own unique needs, I find stating exactly what I mean or think leads to less confusion later. In a purely hypothetical situation, I would be less offended if you told me you thought me stupid, than if you patronizingly assumed I could not handle the criticism, for example, and thus couched it in needless pleasantries. I despise needless pleasantries. I think they are the most wasteful sort of lies." Pause. "Would you like to learn how to throw the rocks back correctly? Or do you already know this?" "What was your previous employment?" Shane keeps watching Mary, at least until she turns to walk back. At that point he moves in to grab his own uniform off the bleachers, nodding over to Ines. "C'mon, you down?" For a bout, evidently, given that his eyes are flicking to the foils nearby. "She wanted to watch. -- Woah." He tilts his head, a brighter smile on his face as he looks up at the teacher. "Seriously? I would be /all/ about throwing shit at --" "... other shit?" Ines fills in, amused. But she's going, too, to start gearing up. "I was high-level consultant for a private military corporation." In other words, elite mercenary. She approaches a place on the benches where she can sit to watch the other two as they gear up for a match,"I feel it is important to keep students engaged. I suspect if you were a vile little creature, this school would've expelled you long ago, and I do not believe in symmetrical responses to threats. Have your parents sign a release form and I'll teach you what I know about 'throwing things at other things'." Mary finally seems to approach a straight, neutral seated position that is about as close as she ever gets to relaxing,"Miss Riera, you are also welcome to join in the extracurricular learning if your parents or guardians approve it." "He's definitely got the /little/ part down," Ines says cheerfully as she pulls on her facemask. Shane throws one of his gloves -- it's clearly been custom-ordered for him, its shape actually /suited/ to his webbed hands -- at her. It splats against the mask. From behind it there's a laugh. "I'll ask my mom," she says, "but she's definitely gonna say yes." "I think my dads would be for it," Shane agrees. "They both teach here. You'll meet them. They're rad." And with that he goes to scoop the glove back up, and get ready for a Show.