ArchivedLogs:Welcome to Hogwarts

Welcome to Hogwarts
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Mariot	2013-04-13 '
Location <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. It's afternoon, and the school, somewhere, is likely busy. Perhaps not as busy as other times -- weekends mean a few students have returned to homes in the city, mean a lot /more/ have just gone out to enjoy town, but those who remain make more than their share of noise and chaos. Upstairs. Not down here. Down here there is quiet. Sort of quiet. There's soft classical music playing in the teachers' lounge, a Kreisler violin piece. The lounge is largely unoccupied. Only one figure in it who, admittedly, doesn't /look/ much like a teacher. His features young enough he might still be a teenager himself, his clothing -- far from professional. Black capri pants edged in red, chunky black-and-glittery-red sneakers, fishnet sleeves, a red t-shirt that reads 'ALL MY HEROES HAVE FBI FILES'. He has on an eyepatch, red, and a dusting of shimmery silver makeup over his other eye. Shiny chrome nails. Electric blue hair. He is bouncing absently on the toes of his platform sneakers as he leans against the bar, inspecting the alcohol selection behind it. The sharp smell of chlorine still clings strongly to him. He's humming quietly along with the music. To an external viewer, it probably wouldn't be a surprise that Mariot not merely comes to a halt but quite markedly double-takes upon entering the teacher's private area and finding herself met with +this+ particular... vision. This is evidently not quite the kind of thing her own education has led her to expect in this sort of location, but after a few moments of brain-freeze, she quietly closes the door behind her and ventures closer. Jackson turns, at the sound of the door opening, pierced lips curling up into a quick easy smile. "Afternoon, ma'am," he says lightly, a molasses-thick Southern drawl coating his words. "Mariot?" He's standing up straighter, offering out one shiny-nailed hand for a handshake; the hand he offers is missing a finger, just a scarred stump where the smallest one should be. "M'Jax. You settlin' in aright?" "Struggling somewhat with culture shock", the Briton admits dryly, while shaking the offered hand. "Crossing the Pond would be quite enough to cope with, without moving into Hogwarts...." "You're on the wrong side'a the pond for Hogwarts," Jackson says with a laugh. His handshake is firm, his skin rather too warm to the touch; feverish, really. His smile is warm, though. "If there's anything we can help with, you just let me know. Moving to another country's huge enough already. And I guess we /are/ kinda-sorta weird 'round here." "To put it mildly", Mariot agrees - albeit with a smile. "And... well. It's hard to think of any other easy reference than Hogwarts for 'co-educational boarding school for the paranormally gifted'. Though there's a much more rigorous policy on school uniforms there, admittedly..." "Are we paranormal?" Jax's head cocks slightly to one side, considering Mariot thoughtully. At his side, his fingers curl in loosely into a lazy fist, thumb brushing up against where his smallest finger should be. "Think science has done plenty'a studying us lately. And oh, gosh. I don't think I'd've lasted so well with uniforms." He shifts to lean back against a couch, hip propped up against its back. "So what's brought you out this way? You real keen on teaching?" "Depends on quite what one means by paranormal. To some, it simply means 'unreal', to others...." Mariot shrugs. "We certainly don't operate terribly closely in accordance with conventional understandings of physics, in many cases. And me? Hah." She moves towards the coffee machine. "Well... I'm keen to give it a go. I... want to try to be useful. And I'm told that this is somewhere I can be. Quite apart from a special side-project I was told I might be suited for." Jackson listens to this quietly, fingers fidgeting absently with a beltloop of his pants. "Well, there's a whole lot of ways'a being useful," he says, his smile hooking up a little crookedly. "And we got a little bit of lots of them here. I mean, this place -- s'a lot of teachers and that's more important than anything, maybe. A lot of folks use here as kind of a jumping-off to get involved in activism. And then some of us --" For a moment there's a bright flash of teeth. "Well. I guess we're more like Aurors." Mariot chuckles at that, smiling and slightly shaking her head before refocusing for a few moments upon the task of sorting out a large mug of coffee. "Apparently, I might be suitable for that latter role. The teaching... well. I and whatever students I'm assigned will probably find that out shortly. I don't actually have any qualifications as a teacher, but I gather that's not too unusual for the staff here." "It's pretty unusual, actually," Jackson says, quietly amused. "At least if you're teaching academic subjects. Most of the teachers of the, uh, /real/ classes have advanced degrees. But there's training the school'll subsidize if you ain't had /no/ teaching experience before." He is back to bouncing. Rocking up onto his toes with a surplus of energy. "'course, if you just want to be a superhero," he says this word more laughing than sincere, "well, there ain't yet no cert for /that/. We just kinda throw you into the deep end. What do you do?" "Oh, I have a Masters", Mariot says somewhat dismissively. "And I've experience of training people... but teaching children in a classroom will be a new experience for me. Fortunately, I suspect that in history being an exotic foreigner from the Old World might help, while in any Ethics tuition I'm assigned... well. Challenging preconceptions and easy assumptions is rather the point." "But yes - the superheroics, I'm worried about for +other+ reasons, I admit." "Don't envy you teachin' ethics 'round here." Jackson studies Mariot thoughtfully, his brows raising. "Other reasons? What sorta other reasons? I mean." His nosse wrinkles. "OK, there's probably about a billion reasons to be worried but what's /yours/?" Mariot takes a slightly unsteady breath, then a long sip of her coffee, propping her rump against the counter while cradling the mug in her hands. "The last time I saw active combat, I got shot, lots of people died, and I had a breakdown thereafter. Aided greatly by first realising I had an ability in the midst of it all, I might say in my defence, but... I've not exactly repeated the scenario to find out how I will respond now. +Then+, I got civilians in my care out of trouble, so it certainly wasn't as bad as it could have been. But I'm not exactly able to say with certainty quite how I'll respond to a situation requiring superheroics in future." "Mmm." It's a thoughtful mmm. Jackson considers this, nods, without any overt sympathy but with a quiet pensiveness. "S'rough. 'specially if you ain't been back in a situation like that since. Here, though, we train /regular/ to try and see how we deal with just about any situation we can think of. You can try -- try yourself out against that kinda chaos but in a controlled environment, see if jumping into this kind of thing is really right for you." "I've been in combat more than once before that, but that was the first time I'd - so far as I'm aware - encountered a mutant ability, and it was put to rather devastating effect", Mariot says ruefully. "I'm told that I should be just fine, but... that kind of incident naturally sows a few niggling seeds of doubt. And yes, I've heard that there are some rather unusual training options here, which should help me to settle in... but I've got nothing more than that cryptic assurance thus far." In answer to this, Jackson asks only: "You watch Star Trek at all?" He's smiling again now. Broad. Mariot blinks, then chuckles. "Not a great deal. But if you're about to try to use something that runs on dilithium crystals, I readily admit to having my doubts." "-- It might run on dilithium crystals," Jackson decides. "It might run on fairydust and wizardmagic. Might run on hope. Ain't quite sure, actually. Think it mostly runs on a person. Finish your coffee. I'll show you." Mariot looks both intrigued and amused, somewhat protectively drawing her coffee closer. "This sounds... intriguing. Should I change into something more suitable for running for my life from crazily-exploding technology?" "Should dress for bein' active, yeah." Not that Jax really is, with his fishnets and capris and platform sneakers. But he straightens, bouncing up onto his toes again, and glances towards the door. "And then meet me on the floor below this'n, say, ten minutes? I'll give you a real taste'a Hogwarts." "Sure. I can probably find my way one floor down without getting lost", Mariot agrees with a smile. "I've never yet wound up +completely+ disoriented, but this place is even larger than it looks. As I'm sure you already know, of course. But sure - I'll change into something more suitable for terrified flight." "'least the staircases, uh, /usually/ all stay in the same place." With a wiggle of fingers, Jackson slips off. For now.