ArchivedLogs:The Science of Friendship

The Science of Friendship
Dramatis Personae Megan, Hank	2013-05-24 '
Location Hank's Office, X Mansion Med Lab
Hank's office. In the back of the med lab hides Hank's faculty office. It's more convenient to just be in here, even if it isn't as spacious as some of the offices elsewhere on campus. But then, he doesn't really spend that much time in here. Mainly just private consultations, and advising students. The main reason it seems less spacious though is probably because much of the furniture is oversized. Its not like Hank is a giant, but he's bulkier than average, and he needs more elbow room. The desk is relatively organized, but that probably has more to do with Hank converting his life to a paperless existence. Pens and paper were a bane to him anyway, so working with gesture based tablets was a godsend. He sits in a comfy-looking swivel chair, designed to let him sit cross-legged. Earlier today he sent a school email just to Megan request a meeting with her during the break in her schedule he looked up. Morning classes are over, and its not yet lunch, so they have a chunk of time to work with. He can be found now sitting in that swivel chair, but facing his office door, back to this desk. There are also a couple of squishy looking non-swivel chairs by the door, obviously set up for visitors. He's facing the door, fiddling with the tablet in his lap, waiting for his visitor. Megan's schedule is largely empty, given her late start at the school. However, Megan and technology are still only on speaking terms, and email is by far not her preferred means of communication. So she receives the mail about thirty seconds before she's supposed to be at Hank's office. Cue teenaged panic as the girl rushes to change, do her hair, and turn off the countertop oven in her dorm room (ruining a batch of cupcakes). The teen arrives at Hank's office about twelve minutes late. She has on jeans and a black teeshirt (inside out), her hair is pulled back with a yellow headband (with more than a few askew strands), she's barefoot, and her expression is utterly mortified as she knocks on the door. "Doctor McCoy? I'm so sorry I'm late, I just got your email like a few minutes ago." Sitting alone in his office, Hank cocks his head slight as the sound of bare feet on the med lab floor approach his door. He reaches back to set his tablet down and his already holding up the other hand to defuse her apology bomb. He smiles, still somehow able to make that toothy gesture a warm one, and gestures at the empty chairs. "It's /alright/ Megan," he says softly. "Come in, have a seat, /take a deep breath/. You're not in trouble. You're not being assigned extra work." Hank knows to hit the hot button topics right off the bat. Teens are so excitable. "And you're right on time." He smiles and sits back, waiting for Megan to catch her breath. "Ohthankgod," Megan says it all at once, clearly relieved. She steps into the office, and as if to provide evidence of her genuine relief, her wings (draped along her back) shift from a shade of irridescent purple-red to a more sedate blueish-purple, and slowly continue down the path to blue. She examines the room only briefly before moving to perch on the edge of one of his guest seats, with her hands in her lap. "How may I help you, sir?" "Well actually Megan, I was hoping I could help you." Hank swivels, picks up the water pitcher on his desk, deftly pours two glasses of water, and hands one to Megan. His is left on the desk. "It may have become apparent to you that /my/ mutation, like yours, is somewhat difficult to hide from the world at large." The gleam in the corner of Hank's eye betrays his subtle sense of humor. "I like to keep an eye on students in situations like ours. Yesterday, by the lake... You seemed upset. Is there anything you'd like to discuss? I'll admit I have limited experience on being a teenage girl, but contrary to the common rumors around school here, I was /actually/ a young man at one point in my life." Hank chuckles at his own joke and scratches behind his right ear. And the shift right back towards irridescent purple. "Nnnno, I'm okay," Megan says. "really, Doctor McCoy. Everyone here has been so nice and helpful. Mister Summers helped me figure out how to hide my wings so I can go out in public, I've got plenty of friends. Everything's fine, really." How she manages to put on such a convincing smile while lying through her teeth is anyone's guess. "You know, being right in a circle of friends can be one of the loneliest places on Earth. Sometimes its hard to speak openly with them when you're under pressure to look, act, or just /be/ a certain way in their eyes." Hank finally reaches back for his glass and takes a careful sip from it. Hi eyes light up again as they glance at her wings, scholarly curiosity finally winning out. "I have to ask you, Ms. Gwynn, and I don't mean to embarrass you, but do you know your wings exhibit some kind of photonomic response when you're speaking?" Hank is allowed to make up words. He has /degrees/. Megan's eyes widen, and the irridescence shifts from purple to almost brilliant red. It might be suggested that under infrared or ultraviolet lighting, she would /glow/. Thankfully, everyone here has eyesight limited to the /visual/ spectrum of radiation, which means they're just rather brilliant. "No," she murmurs, turning to look at her own wings. "I mean, I know they change colours, but I don't know why." She's oddly quiet as she discusses them, like someone with an impending sense of doom. "I'm sorry Megan, the scientist inside got the better of me," Hank says, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently before sitting back again. "But it's nothing to /worry/ about. I just wonder if we shouldn't spend some extra time, maybe during the summer session, to give you some experience studying your own mutation." Hank waves a hand dismissively, and continues, "I'm sorry, that has nothing to do with why I called you down here. You seemed upset when I found you yesterday. Can you tell me anything about what led up to that point?" --The part where you sat out in the rain, alone, for an hour before anyone came by.-- "I like the rain," Megan protests, then sighs and lowers her head. "I was just disappointed, is all," she admits, a bit glumly. "I tried to cheer someone up; give them a little self-confidence, you know? And I just wound up messing it up worse. So much for the cupcake fairy." Instantly, Hank's expression softens. He sighs, and nods in sympathy. "I see. Yes, that would would be more than a little upsetting. You try to help someone, and it backfires... I've been there." He so looks like he wants to just pick the girl up and hug her, but a level of appropriateness has to be maintained, of course. "I know that... teenage politics are complicated. And I won't pretend to understand /everything/ you're going through right now. But, at least partially, some of the answer is in what you just said." Hank takes a sip of water to let her absorb that much, and think about which part he might mean. Finally, he elaborates, "What I mean is, are you really 'a cupcake fairy'?" Hank holds up his hand, "I know, I know, you meant it in jest. But ask yourself, did you really? One hundred percent? Or has it become some part of your identity? Its hard to live with something like that Megan, because an alter ego becomes something we have to live up to. Something /others/ start to place expectations on, and then we start to internalize those expectations." Hank looks like he might know something about struggling to accept ones self as is. Megan furrows her brow at the cryptic answer, but when Hank explains, she tries to protest. Except she doesn't even for an instant interject; she just opens her mouth, then closes it while he finishes talking. "I /want/ to be the cupcake fairy," she says, when he's through. "I want everyone to be happy, and smiling, and to believe in themselves as much as I believe in them. Is that so horrible?" Hank listens carefully and thinks for a moment before responding. "But don't you see dear? That puts far too much weight on your shoulders. That makes it your fault if they have a bad day, which of course isn't /true/." Hank smiles and moves to get up. "Here, come walk through the med lab with me for a minute. Hank leads the way out, and the two find themselves in a largely empty lab. Peter has left, and there's just the cordoned off portion where Aloke is sleeping off his flicker-fest, under Hank's observation. Hank speaks quietly so as not to disturb the man. "Of course we want our friends to be happy, but we can't make that our /responsibility/. You and I would like Professor Suresh to be up and about and feeling better, right? But it's not our fault that he's not ready." Hank shrugs and smiles, leading them a little way away from that part of the lab so they can speak more openly. "Encouraging and supporting our friends is paramount, but we have to be careful how much of that we turn that into our identity. Don't forget to support you!" Megan sighs and follows Hank out of the room. Her wings have settled down to a much more sedate purple-blue. "I know it's not my fault, most of the time," she says. "But this time it /was/ my fault. When it's not my fault, I just offer to be a shoulder, or to give cupcakes, or hugs, or whatever I can. I enjoy doing that. But ... this time it /was/ my fault, Doctor McCoy. My words led to a student being /less/ confident in himself." "Oh, I see." Hank says, rubbing at his jaw while he thinks. He hops up to sit on an empty bed and gestures for Megan to take the one facing his. "Well, I doubt you meant for him to feel worse about himself, did you? Intent and impact can be two vastly different areas." "Well I think it'd be pretty callous of me not to be a little blue about it," Megan tells him quietly. Then she realises the implications, and her eyes widen. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I meant ... disappointed. I'm sorry." Hank waves his hand dismissively, chuckling. "Not to worry, Ms. Gwynn. I'm quite used to being blue. You on the other hand..." He considers Megan while he pulls his feet up to sit cross-legged on the hospital bed. "Of course you'd be blue. Not as blue as me, maybe, but still." He winks, and goes on, "You just had me worried is all, sitting out there in the rain like that." Then he adds a question only a grown-up could think is a good idea, "Would you like me to say anything to this boy? To help set things on a better track?" Fwoosh! The wings, they are bright /pink/ now. "Oh god, no, no, that's okay," Megan says, her cheeks matching her wings in hue. "No, please, just ... it's okay. I'll talk to him again, eventually." "Alright, alright," Hank says with a grin. "Remember, I don't even know who we're talking about. Your secrets are safe with me. As would /any/ private conversation, ok?" Hank slowly unfolds himself from sitting cross-legged, to making a handstand, pressing up from the hospital bed as he stretches his muscles. Lucky he's not wearing his usual lab coat - pens would be everywhere. Just khakis and a white t-shirt for once. Once he's done stretching, he pushes off and lands with a quiet thump on all fours, on the floor. "I hope you'll feel free to come and talk to me when something is bothering you in the future. I can't promise answers, but sometimes its good just to talk things out." Megan takes a deep breath, then nods her head. "Yes sir," she says. Then she pauses, reaches out to wrap her arms around him in a big hug--whether he likes it or not!--then turns to head for the door. "Bye!" she calls on her way out.