Logs:By insolence the heedless make strife, but wisdom is with those who take advice.
| By insolence the heedless make strife, but wisdom is with those who take advice. | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2025-01-18 "{You can't afford to not fucking think.}" |
| Location
<XAV> Upper Armoury - Xs Basement | |
Adjoining the teachers' lounge, this is a pleasant but understated enclave for the faculty to relax or catch up on work. Lit softly by a small chandelier, and warmed in the winter by a grated fireplace, it is furnished with one long table and comfortable plush chairs, as well as smaller individual desks, each with a small Tiffany-style lamp. Tall, elegant shelves of with antique books stand along the walls, with displayed antique hunting rifles, finely-crafted swords, or full suits of armor in the interstices between them. The elevator to the lower level is tucked unobtrusively at the far wall, between two framed antique maps. There's still quite a ways to go before the school's routine can be returned to normal, but the past couple days have made a heft headway in the defungusing. The school is quieter as a result, residents filtering out as they are cleared. Even so, the number of curious or hostile or simply annoying Xavierites hovering accusatory in Leo's orbit is not yet none, so he is taking his quiet supper alone and far from the barrage of demanding questions that have accompanied his efforts. He's currently slouched in an armchair, neat in cigarette-cut blue jeans and teal button-down with bold magenta inside its cuffs and placket. He's got his glasses on, his soup gone half-cold as he loses himself in his Kindle. Joshua appears silently, his own bowl held in one hand as he drops heavy into a nearby chair. He's relaxed, anyway, or near enough, comfortable in sweatshirt and jeans, kippah pinned to still-damp hair. He's plodding through his soup for several bites in silence, then setting it aside. He picks up Leo's, vanishes. Returns a couple minutes later to set Leo's bowl back down, nestled now in a paper towel to provide a layer of protection from the freshly microwaved heat. He drops back into his seat and frowns -- somewhere in the brief trip he's left his own spoon in another room, but it's in his hand again the next time he vanishes and returns. This time to start eating again for real. Leo is looking up, giving a small puzzled blink at Joshua's repeat disappearances. When Joshua returns with the spoon a small understanding smile pulls at his mouth. "Thank you." He picks his own back up -- careful -- and gently blows on his next mouthful. "Have you tried attaching all your things to yourself? Maybe a little bungee cord for everything?" "Please." Joshua's voice is flat as ever, but there's a very well, obviously tone to the look he's giving Leo. He plucks a bunch of keys out of midair -- they have a bungee-strap keychain attached, which he slips over his wrist. Then sets his phone face-up on the end table between them -- he's opened the clock app, started a stopwatch running. He's returning to his soup as he slouches back. "Quieter around here." "I did not have a shabbat." Leo stirs at his soup, watching the steam curl off the top of the bowl. "Hopefully before I sleep, mostly -- done. The people. Tomorrow for cleanup..." His brows knit, a small exhausted wilt in his posture. "... of the buildings. Then back to the original problem." He sits up a little straighter again, sounding just a touch brighter when he adds: "I think I can keep the plants alive, anyway. All week I've been experimenting." Joshua pokes his tongue into his cheek, mouth twisting briefly in a very trying-not-to-speak kind of way. He takes another bite of soup as he marshals his thoughts. "... Summers'll be happy." The furrow in Leo's brows deepens. He's looking up quick and questioning, but his study of Joshua's expression does not give him the answers he is looking for. He stirs at his soup again, fidgeting just a little. "... but?" Unlike most of Leo's infections, the fidget is contagious. Joshua shifts in his seat, idly rattles the keys to slap against his palm. He looks down at his soup and shrugs one shoulder, but then raises his eyes to Leo. "Just -- not sure more experimenting's. A great call." He yoyos the keys down and up again, catching them lightly. "This week was a disaster. Could've been a worse one." Leo's shoulders tighten, his eyes suddenly wider. Taking his glasses off and cleaning them unnecessarily does absolutely nothing to deflect from the sudden sting in his expression. "You know I am careful." "I know. You had a damn concussion." Joshua swings the keys again, clenching them tight. "You're more careful on your off days than most people ever. But, bro, your fucking off days --" He gestures (empty-handed, now), around them wide. "Miracle nobody died. These kids do not need Rage Plague." Leo blinks, hard. His head drops in a slow nod. "I know." His voice is very, very soft here. He folds his glasses and sets them aside next to Joshua's phone. "How -- bad did it. Get. I know there were fights --" He's very intently studying the swirls in his soup as he stirs it slow and rhythmic. "Nobody died." This time it's wryer than the first. "Some fucking idiot stole Jax's light. Just burned down the kitchen, Baruch HaShem. Bunch of fights." He chuffs, low and amused. "... kids threw a wedding for Scott and Ion." But the brief amusement is short-lived. "... kid assaulted Horus, too. Bird broke his arm. Not sure he'll come back." Leo nods again at this, slow and heavy. "Nobody died," he murmurs, like he's reminding himself. He looks a little wider-eyed at the mention of Jax -- "Stole -- oh. The little horned one." There's a reflexive shudder at this. "That could have been very much worse." "Yeah --" comes reflexively and offhand, but then Joshua's eyes are narrowing in a mild suspicion. "... you know him?" "No," Leo says, though he's nodding at first. He catches himself, changes to a shake of his head, even though his answer is also changing: "I met him. Before I left last. He -- also took my --" He's fluttering his fingers towards himself, and adding in haste: "It was only -- it was very quick. I thought I had checked him carefully before I left but I think I -- missed something probably." His cheeks are burning, his voice tighter and quicker with shame. "I know I should be more careful but I think it's --" "{What.}" This cuts in, sharp and fiercely heated, before Leo has quite finished. "{This whole fucking -- this was that little shit's --}" He sits back, eyes closed, and draws several deep breaths. Then takes a mouthful of soup. Then several more deep breaths. Even so, it's a few more seconds before he shakes his head, opens his eyes; his voice has sunk back into its usual flatness, but his shoulders are tense, fingers clutched tight. "You need to tell them." "It was just a second," Leo protests again, weakly. "Kids are stupid." Joshua's spoon has vanished now; he's running his fingers restless through his hair, then re-adjusting his kippah. There's a tighter urgency in his voice; his head shakes hard. "{You don't get to make fucking mistakes. How many fucking people are out there waiting for you to --}" This cuts off, sharp and strangled. "{One fucking kid, Leo. One kid complaining to the wrong goddamn parent -- what the fuck do you think that little Stonegate shit's senator daddy will do if he hears Leonid goddamn Concepcion came this close to triggering the apocalypse at his kid's school?}" Leo has turned a shade or two paler. "I'm sorry," he offers, quiet, "I -- didn't think..." He shakes his head slowly, his shoulders curling in. "{You can't afford to not fucking think.}" Joshua's voice is sharper again. "{Two fucking days we have a goddamn fascist back in the White House just salivating to fuck over every brown immigrant in this shithole country. Half this country wants to lynch you and you just fucking --}" He clamps his mouth shut and rubs the heel of his hand hard against his suddenly bright eyes. "{I don't want to keep taking off if I don't know you'll be here when I get back.}" He's slumped back in his seat heavily, then. He looks down at his bowl, then his empty hand, briefly at something of a loss for what is wrong here. Leo passes his hand slowly down his face. He starts to reach out toward Joshua, then drops his hand very deliberately to his knee. "{I'm sorry,}" he says again, but it's steadier, now. "I will telling them." He is looking at Joshua's bowl, too. He lifts his own spoon, waggling it indicatively. Then, deeply apologetic: "Your keys are also gone." "Fff." Joshua slumps back further. When he plucks another utensil out of the air it's not the spoon he'd been using, just a sturdy titanium camping spork. He leans over to tap his stopwatch, staring down at it disconsolately. "No bungee for my goddamn brain." | |
