<XS> Medical Lab - B1
Gleaming and sterile, the school's medical facility is all cool science in contrast to the mansion's old-world old-fashion. All stainless steel and antiseptic tinge, the room is filled with the quiet whir-click of the various implements that comprise its medical equipment -- all state-of the art. The hospital beds are curtained off for privacy when they have patients, and in one of the alcoves there is a small operating theatre visible. More heavy-duty equipment is visible in the lab in the back, where the securely locked cabinets keep sensitive equipment out of the reach of teenage fingers.
It's been a rather warm day today, spring's on it's way afterall. It's late afternoon, and Ghost is currently in the medbay, lying on a bed. She's awake right now, though isn't moving much due to the wounds she suffered at the protest, reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
Ghost is wearing a loose green t-shirt, a pair of rather baggy jeans, and is barefoot as usual.
There's a soft whoosh as the medbay doors open, followed by quiet footsteps against the tile. Jackson is dressed dark today, black skinny jeans tucked into black knee-high boots, black fishnet three-quarter-sleeved shirt with a black sleeveless shirt over it, dotted in silver stars. His hair's just been dyed in jet-black too, though at least here there are streaks of colour, bright blue and glittery silver brushed through it. He has a silver jacket draped over one arm; in his other hand there's a large Tupperware. "Knock knock," he just -- /says/, as he heads over towards Ghost's bed. "Hey, honey-honey. Y'up for a visitor?" There's a quiet tinge of worry in his thick drawl.
As Jackson comes in with his dark attire, Ghost stares for a moment, before smiling. "Hey, Jax! I don't know what they told you, I'm not having a funeral.". Making a pun at Jackson's..everything, Ghost puts down her book, sniffing towards the tupperware. "Sure! What's up? How..are you?".
"And what did you bring me?"
"I'd certainly /hope/ not," Jackson answers, slipping over to drag a chair near and plunk himself down in it. The box in his hand smells heavily of chocolate. "Else y'wouldn't be able to eat these. I don't think zombies are much into cupcakes." He offers the Tupperware out to Ghost, his arm moving a little stiffly with the gesture. "S'chocolate. It's /so/ chocolate. Chocolate-almond cupcakes stuffed with chocolate mousse an' topped with ganache." His eye flicks over her for a moment. "I jus' -- wanted t'check up. Things got so hectic after the -- I wanted to make sure --" His teeth dig down against his lip. "I'm real sorry, Ghost. For gettin' you into all that."
"Oh man chocolate you are the greatest.". Ghost is lunging for it, grabbygrabby, as she prys it open. "I'm alright. It'll heal. Besides, it's not your fault. I always knew I'd get shot at some day. I was pretty close at Prometheus too. Besides, it's all for a good cause, right?". Even in the face of this sad topic, Ghost is grinning, though to try and lighten the mood.
Taking a bite out of one of the cupcakes, she grins. "Oh man these are delicious, I'd get shot all the time if it guaranteed one of these."
"It's for a good cause," Jackson agrees, "but I still shoulda been watchin' out better, I --" His cheeks darken, nose crinkling up. "Oh /gosh/ how about I bake chocolate on the regular in exchange for you /don't/ get shot? I feel like that's a much better trade-off in the end. Y'get t'enjoy the sweets /an'/ enjoy life on top." With a crooked smile, he does add: "Though. Looks like us gettin' shot at had a net-positive effect in the end. Support for this registration boycott's /skyrocketed/."
"Sounds like a fair deal!". Ghost is grinning, eating the cupcake. "Man, maybe we /should/ get shot some more. For a good cause! Uh..I don't mean to be troublesome, but who shot us? I saw..arrows. In NYC. That's not..normal."
"I mean, much as I'm glad somethin' good /came/ from it," Jackson says with a laugh stifled against his knuckles, "I think I might pass on the /more/ gettin' shot I seem to attract that plenty enough as-is." He drops his hand to his lap, grimacing at the question. "There was arrows, yeah. I don't -- rightly know who they were. Whoever they were they took /off/ in a hurry. Strange enough, too, I ain't the first mutant I know who done been shot by someone armed with bow an' arrow. S'a /strange/ pasttime, mutant-huntin'."
Laughing, Ghost nods. "Agreed. And, eh, getting shot isn't all that it's cracked up to be.". Another laugh.
"Wait, Serial Archer? Seriously? Also, it's not that strange. A lot of people hate us out there."
"It's strange on account of who on earth carries around a /bow/ an' /arrow/ to do their violence," Jackson explains with a small wrinkle of nose. "Not on account'a the attempted-murdering, /that's/ sadly normal." He pushes himself back to his feet slowly, curling fingers up through his hair. "Gettin' shot ain't /no/ fun, I wouldn't recommend makin' a habit of it. 'least we got good folks t'care for you here. Just --" His head bows again, a faint blush creeping back into his cheeks. "I /am/ sorry. You rest up, yeah? Get good an' better. Might hafta cook up somethin' /fun/ in the DR when we're both back to a hundred percent."
"If you insist.". Ghost grins, as she finishes her cupcake. "Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault we got attacked by assholes. It was..well, there was a lot of mutants there.". Another grin, though a bit lighter.
"Oh man, that'd be awesome. I'll see you..sometime when I'm not in here!"
Jackson tips his head in a quick nod. His hand lifts -- a large silver-trimmed black Stetson appears on his head, and he tips it cheerfully to Ghost. "Most definitely. Y'take care, honey-honey." He shrugs back into his jacket, leaving the cupcakes with Ghost and turning to slip back out.