ArchivedLogs:Handing Over the Badge

Handing Over the Badge
Dramatis Personae Xavier, Jennifer	2013-05-20 Whoops!
Location <XS> Headmaster's Office - B1
Quietly elegant, the headmaster's office is as old-fashioned as the headmaster himself. The large wooden desk is the centerpiece of the room, the guest's chair a high-backed dark wood one. The walls are painted in rich dark colours, a sole impressionist painting hanging on the wall. The hardwood floors are polished, the floor kept carefully neat and tidy, the room perpetually immaculately organized. Monday morning -- early enough that classes are not yet in session. This level of the school is quiet, at this hour. A few industrious people -- largely the adults, though a few children -- utilizing the gym or pool for early morning training. A few teachers in and out of the lounge. But mostly the school is waking up, a few floors above, breakfasting and coffeeing and showering. Down here, just quiet. Xavier is in his office, seated behind his desk. There is a cup of tea on the desk in front of him. His attention is on his computer, expression thoughtful as he answers his email. There is undeniable hesitation in front of that ominous door. Jennifer does not knock immediately, instead staring at the entrance to the headmaster's office as if it were the maw of some beast. Not that she was scared of Charles Xavier; quite the contrary, she respected the man greatly, which is exactly what sparks her fears. Knowing full well that she cannot stall forever, however, she gently knocks on the door three times. That hesitation returns once she would be permitted in, of course. As if she genuinely expected a 'no thank you I changed my mind you can go now'. Alas, the handle is twisted and the door opens. In comes Jennifer, dressed in her usual favoured attire that is her formal wear - a brown office jacket, matching office slacks, black high heels and a sparkling white blouse. All dressed up for classes. The door is tentatively closed behind. One doesn't need to be a telepath to detect the palpable fear that surrounds her. Her thoughts, of course, swirl with dozens of possibilities why she has been summoned - from correct answers to more ludicrous guesses, such as being the more common cause of losing the remote to the TV in the teacher's lounge, or punching Logan out of the boxing ring. "You wanted to see me, Professor?" she asks that sorely predictable question, stepping forward further. "Please, come in." Xavier's voice is warm and rich, from behind the door. "I did, Ms. Walters, yes. Please, sit." He gestures to the seat across from him, at the desk. A few taps of his keys, and his screen shuts off. His attention turns towards Jennifer, expression quietly calm. "Would you care for some tea? Coffee? It is early, yet. I think a good deal of this school's population ceases to function until their morning caffeine." Although Jennifer is clearly on edge, the invitation to both sit and have some much-needed caffeine does disarm her tension, somewhat. Still, the woman is seated on the chair with her back straight, her legs pressed together and her fingers fidgeting with one another on her lap. "Coffee would really hit the spot right now," she admits rather casually. "I wouldn't want to trouble you, though." << Keep your cool. Keep your cool. Keep your cool. Just be patient and don't ask stupid questions. >> An awkward attempt at a polite smile surfaces. "Is this about the incident at Oscorp, Professor?" << You're hopeless. >> Her smile forcibly broadens. "I've arrived to a convenient agreement with Norman Osborn. He was more than willing to brush the entire incident under the, ah, proverbial rug." "It is no trouble," Xavier assures her, and for a moment there is a faint distance to his expression, attention -- elsewhere. Just for a moment. His focus returns to Jennifer shortly. "The incident at Oscorp was the catalyst for this meeting, yes. I have heard a number of things from a number of sources," some of which no doubt were the over-stressed minds of the very people /involved/ upon their return to the mansion, "but I would like to hear from you what happened, at Oscorp. Please." What can you tell a telepath that he doesn't know already? It's a question Jennifer had asked a long while ago, and one that no longer even crosses her mind. Not relying on mind-reading entirely is what helped solidify her respect for him. There /is/ a defeatist sigh, however, before she begins her story. "The kids that went missing-- That whole thing is weighing heavily on the other students. Ivan wanted to contact Osborn, which I forbade. And then the student that I suspected least of all, the student I actually talked to about--" Jennifer catches herself rambling and bites on her lower lip, pausing. "Rasa went to Norman Osborn. She initiated physical contact with him, copying him and the-- Whatever's inside of him. She hit the panic button, and I rushed there before the X-Men." This alone requires clarification; it echoes in her mind, yet Jennifer decides to voice it, regardless. "I know I strongly rejected to become a part of the X-Men, so I had little reason to be there. I just got... overprotective, I guess. Especially because I was struggling to do things right lately." Recalling the tale actually helps Jennifer ease up, somewhat. "But lifting slabs of stone of a fallen building is easier than a metamorph overtaken by someone else's monster. I was out of my element. Norman Osborn /looked/ like he was calming her down, but then aimed a taser at Rasa. I stopped him, and that made him want to shift-- I /think/. He asked for the taser, and not knowing whether whatever he would morph into would follow us, I just--" Jennifer shrugs, looking to Xavier with an apologetic 'so I sort of did this' look. "So, I tased Norman Osborn." "Hm." It's a quiet thoughtful hum, and for a moment it is the only answer Xavier offers. He glances towards the door -- there's a quiet noise outside of it, before it opens. It is Savita, warm and smiling and perhaps just down from the kitchens because she brings not only a steaming mug of coffee (on a plate, with a tiny pitcher of milk and a bowl of sugar beside) but a pair of warm cranberry-orange muffins. "Thank you, Ms. Chavan." Until she leaves, that is all Xavier offers. The door closes again behind her. "Can you recall," he asks, "anything you might have said to Rasa, during this encounter? Or, as well, anything you might have said to Mr. Osborn?" The theory about food and guilt does not apply to Jennifer. Boy, does she feel guilty, yet both the mug of coffee and the muffins are not at all ignored, and are in fact hastily tended to. A small measure of sugar is added, and promptly Jennifer begins to stir it. "Well, /that/ I would sooner trust you with than myself, but-- I've mentioned another student by his first name - Ivan. I've lied to her about him getting kidnapped in vain hope of snapping her out of it. "He would suspect me less if Scott and Kurt didn't arrive. Then again, if they arrived and I /didn't/--" The thought process happens alongside her speaking, and it is at this point that the spoon in her mug freezes. << -- everything would have turned out fine. >> The redhead clears her throat. "He knows about the school. I don't think he knows where it is, its goals... I think it's safe to assume he doesn't know much about it, if anything. But the point is, he knows we exist." The spoon is withdrawn and set aside on the plate. A testing sip. "Coffee's good," she notes with a more genuine smile. The muffin is grabbed next. Mm, food. Xavier picks up his tea, once Jennifer has doctored her coffee. "Norman Osborn is a dangerous man on many levels. Unpredictably so, it seems." He sips at his slowly, and lowers it back to the table. "Mr. Osborn has," he informs Jennifer mildly, "been in contact with one of the X-Men. Just last night. Inquiring after Rasa. And letting us know that he knows all about this school and the secret we strive to protect. It seems there are only so many puzzle pieces he can be given at once before they all fit together neatly." "I think-- Bear with me, Professor, please. I think he isn't as dangerous as most think. He /would/ sooner regard his allies as tools than friends, but I think the greater danger is not /him/, but whatever's inside of him." Jennifer takes a sip of her coffee that's greedier than the one before it. "I've spoken to him twice, and he definitely has... redeemable qualities. The kind that will be suffocated if they are ignored." Hanging her chin and dismissing her protests for now, the teacher stares at the awfully lazy whirlpool of her coffee. "But we're not here to discuss Norman Osborn." << We're here because of me. >> "Well, I was lucky enough to be the final puzzle piece. Go, me." The mug is lowered to her lap, although the bottom does not touch her neat slacks. Jen looks up at Xavier anew. "Can I just sidetrack for a moment and ask about Rasa? I've been scared of approaching her-- For fear of making things worse. Is she doing better?" "Do you think you have the ability to redeem him?" Xavier asks this with mild curiosity, looking over Jennifer thoughtfully. He sips at his tea again. "I think for the purposes of this /school's/ security, underestimating him /or/ the creature within him would both be grave mistakes. My priorities must lie with the safety of our children. Whatever aid Norman Osborn requires --" His hand turns up. "-- But. Yes. We are not here to discuss Norman Osborn." He lowers his mug once more, though his hands stay curled around the warm ceramic. "Rasa is working to deal. Ze has new set of challenges to deal with, for the moment." There is only the faintest trace of emphasis on the unusual pronoun. "You say you fear making things worse. That -- is, as well, part of why I have called you here." Another slight pause, this time to release the teacup, drop his hands out of sight into his lap. "In your time since returning to the school, your perspective has been a valuable addition to our teaching staff. There are many cases where your rather unique touch is just what some of the students need." There is, though, a definite /but/ in his voice. It will have to wait for elaboration. Because tea. There are some things that are important. Caffeine is one. Jennifer dares not to elaborate on whether or not she can influence Norman Osborn, although her mind betrays her. << Depends if he lets me. >> What follows after that thought is the silent agreement that children do indeed come first. And then the discussion changes its course to the core of the matter. Walters takes a deep breath and then duly hides her lips behind the mug of coffee, taking a long sip while Charles speaks. It's not until he lets that /but/ linger when she lowers the mug again, a half-sneer, half-smirk on her lips now. "You can be pretty cruel, Professor," she notes with a careful playfulness to her tone. The addendum to that is thought of, rather than said: << Thank you-- I've been feeling... out of place since I've come back. >> The words following the gratitude unfortunately slip past on their own, which Jennifer visibly regrets. Her lips angrily clamp on the brim of the mug once more. Determined sip. "But," the but was inevitable, and it comes quietly with a lowering of Xavier's mug, "there are many children for whom that touch is far from beneficial. In the course of discussing the handling of the incident at Oscorp, it was not just the issue of visibility that arose but, also, your handling of Rasa hirself. Taken in isolation, that was just a chaotic situation and a stressful encounter. Taken with some of the other encounters this term with some of our more --" Xavier's voice is very dry, "colourful students, it becomes a pattern." "I do not think you are out of place here. I have seen the good work that you do. I think that if you wish it to be, this could be the perfect place for you. But I do think that in both your dealings with the outside world as a representative of this institute and in your dealings with the children themselves, a modicum more -- restraint," he says, carefully, "is not just wise but necessary." If anyone is going to lose the face of formality in front of Professor Xavier, Jennifer will be the first in line. Although she lets his words sink in, at the mention of restraint she finally lets her temper spark. "/Restraint/? Charles, I have-- I was always << reckless >> careful with students! I had << her shot at >> apologized to Shelby, Ivan is << lucky to not be traumatized >> getting along with me lately and I'm helping Kai!" She is tripping over most of her words, and given the conflicting words, it's hardly surprising; to anyone else, she'd be a stubborn woman defending herself. Xavier, however, would see there is desperation behind it. Predictably, this circle is very small, and Jennifer arrives at the other end pretty quickly. "Okay, so maybe I did commit a few mistakes. Am I up for probation? Supervision?" Frustration slowly seeps from her tone like a balloon deflating, replacing it with caution and regret. "You are helping Kai immensely," Xavier says, once this circles back around; his head tips, slightly, in acknowledgment of this. "But you already sound rather aware of your recklessness with Shelby. Rasa was rather upset over some of the things said during the incident at Oscorp. Shane may not return to the school even if he is found." His hands turn upwards, spreading over the cup of tea. "I do not say this to berate you. You sound already quite aware of your indiscretion in the Danger Room. I say this because I think it is of vital importance to remember that we are here, always, to make this a safe space for /all/ the students. Even the most challenging of them. Perhaps especially the most challenging of them. And there are times when that /is/, exceptionally, a challenge. Times when they are disrespectful. Dangerous. Even cruel. But if you can see the benefit in reaching out to a man like Norman Osborn, surely you will also be able to see the importance of not alienating them." "I think you do. Care quite deeply about the students. If I did not, we would be having another conversation entirely. But I think, perhaps, some time might be beneficial to you. To take a step back, and consider your approach with them. Sometimes the most difficult students are that way because they are also the most fragile." Xavier's hands fall back to the desk. His fingers lace together. "The term will be over soon enough. The summer semester is a quieter one. I think it would be best if, in lieu of teaching for the optional term, you took some time to evaluate your approach in -- delicate situations. Internally or externally. When it comes time for the fall term, we can revisit this conversation, and see where things stand. You are a valuable member of this community. I would hate to lose you. But I would hate to lose /any/ who come to this school seeking protection." Initially, the more Jennifer hears, the more she shrinks in her seat. Each heavy point is punctuated with a damning reminder that, indeed, she is aware of it, and any sprout of the stubborn desire to resist this lecture is duly extinguished. Like a child who /wants/ to argue, but doesn't have the means to. It's not until her punishment is elaborated upon that there is a look of utter surprise on her face. Her mind becomes a tornado of protests, a bubbling pot filled with all manner of responses - starting with the most juvenile and ending with the most callous. Fingers firmly wrap around the handle of the mug; it's a good thing her mutation does not manifest in her human form. "/Professor/--" The volcano begins to rumble and grow in heat and intensity. But just as it is about to erupt, it... slowly simmers down. Like an unplugged computer about to overheat. The pain-ridden digits loosen around the mug. Ironically, her brief bout of inner anger was not even directed at Xavier; it certainly starts out as such, but it soon spills over into Jennifer, instead, and once all of it lies on her shoulders, that disarms the bomb. "I feel so stupid," she admits with a ragged, uneven sigh. "You've shown good judgment every time we spoke. I'd be an idiot not trust you, Char-- Professor. You've already helped me sort myself out once." Another sigh. "The whole summer, huh?" A reluctant smile is donned. It's clear Jennifer is not happy about this development at all, but she tries to spin it into something more positive. "Can I still stay at the mansion? Talk to children? Maybe if I approach them more like a peer than a teacher, I'll understand them better?" "This mansion is your home," Xavier says, and there's a hint of smile warming his eyes even if it does not touch his lips. "That is not changing. It is your duties as a teacher that are on hold, for the moment. You are still a part of this school and a part of this community. I would be quite pleased if you stayed. Talk to them." Here his smile does touch his lips, faintly. "Talk to me. Talk to the other teachers. I think sometimes in the search to provide them the support they need it is easy to overlook that /we/ need it, too. I do not want to minimize the /difficulty/ of the choices we have to make each day. Only to -- provide some space to work on handling them with care." "Your time will be, of course, your own, though if I may make a suggestion -- perhaps taking the summer to pursue work that is meaningful to you might help make that space a little less empty." Xavier finishes his cup of tea. He sets it down again. "And thank you, Jennifer. These things are never -- easy." The redhead nods reluctantly in acknowledgement of her new predicament. Outwardly, she is still not overly sure of this punishment, yet inwardly she seems largely accepting of it. "Thank you, Charles," she offers her gratitude, a smile slowly spreading her lips. This time, she does not even think to correct the name to the title. "I might have more questions, but I will address them either via an e-mail or-- well, personally." Jen takes another lengthy sip of coffee, finally finishing her drinking as well. Setting down the mug, yet another sigh escapes her lungs. "Well, I figured acting up like a child would make me a damnable hypocrite. I've learned to control my ability so it doesn't fire off when I don't want it to, but-- The moods swings it gives me are still a little tough to master." Finally, she rises, a muffin still in hand. "Again, thank you. I actually was meaning to get into my old profession as of late." << I am going to help Peter Parker with the whole 'terrorist' thing. >> The muffin gets a hearty bite. Could have been worse. "I will see you around, Professor," she informs him with a mouthful. "It would be nice to think that that control comes easily when we leave our own teenage years behind," Xavier says with a hint of wry amusement, "but I think there, too, it is a lifelong challenge." His head dips, a deep polite nod. There is a faint tightness deepening the crow's feet at his eyes at the thought of Peter, but it does not carry through to his calm voice. "I think he would certainly appreciate the help. Good day, Jennifer." His steady gaze sees her out.