Logs:Trust//Funds

Trust//Funds
Dramatis Personae Polaris, Winona, Charles	2022-03-11 << Rich men all have secrets >>
Location <NYC> Bellevue Hospital - Kips Bay
Sandwiched between NYU Medical Center and the VA, the venerable Bellevue is the best known safety net hospital in Manhattan and the oldest public hospital in the entire country. Pledged to accept patients regardless of their insurance status or ability to pay, it hosts several free clinics open to the public daily. Despite a persisting reputation related to the bygone horrors of its psychiatric hospital wing, this is a fully modernized, full-service medical center with solidly rated service. The hospital room is small and its fixtures aging, but it's clean and well-kept. The monitors set up around the single bed are arcane and intimidating to the uninitiated, blinking and chirping softly at irregular intervals. The bedside table holds a glass of water, several get-well cards, a small box of fidget toys, and a stack of books--a well-loved paperback of Kropotkin's The Conquest of Bread, a copy of The Book of Mormon bristling with colorful note tabs, and on top, Knit One, Girl Two by Shira Glassman (the bright cartoon cover depicts two women in swing dresses kissing and a pibald cat playing with a ball of yarn). Polaris has been dozing on and off all afternoon, fitfully even she does manage more than few minutes of sleep at a time. More plushies have joined her in the bed--an incredibly soft penguin, Good Luck Bear, a squishy sphere of a cat, and a very stern polar bear. She's been sleeping rather well for the last half hour but presently stirs again, groaning and starting to turn onto her side before the pain shocks her fully awake. "Motherfucker!" Her earnest ongoing attempts to clean up her language have suffered somewhat this week. Winona has been sitting at her chair, an intimidating tome with the title Classics of Moral and Political Theory, Fifth Edition, her eyebrows knit in some mild frustration as she reads over it and chews on the back of her pen idly. She has a notebook open to jot down some things while she works through the text. The exclamation shocks her into attention, and she sits up a little bit straighter. Her jacket hangs on one of the provided hooks, and she is wearing canvas green pants and a pink tank top. "You ok? Need me to call someone or... ?" she lets the sentence hang without completion, instead letting her concerned expression finish the sentiment. To Polaris's credit, there's only the faintest shiver of metal around the room this time, though the pain is still quite sharp. << Breathe, Lorna. >> She slows her breathing very deliberately and holds up one hand, see-sawing it palm-down to indicate ambivalence. "Yeah, sorry it just hurts like a biiiii--ig hole in my chest. For some reason. If I thought they'd give me anything stronger than like, Tylenol, yeah, but..." This with a shrug as she drops her hand. << Oh man I bet Ion would sneak me some drugs! >> "Sorry I interrupted your studying. I mean, not that I envy you the old white guy political philosophy." She starts to reach for the cup on the bedside table before realizing it's almost empty. "Though, since I'm interrupting anyway, you mind getting me more water?" Winona winces slightly at the remark about the hold in Polaris's chest, << They should really give her something. Maybe ask Ion... ? >> "Yeah, these philosophy texts are..." << Incredibly fucking white. >> "Really exhausting." She is already rising in the seat, the tome gets set aside as she follows Polaris's request for water. "Not sure how knowing Machiavelli's opinions is gonna help me work on a good film, but who knows, stranger things have happened." << But it would be up there. >> There is an uncertain knock at the door, which opens to admit an old man in a sleek powered wheelchair. His blue-gray eyes are keen and alert, his face and head alike cleanly shaven, and he's dressed in a sharp if old-fashioned gray three-piece suit. He has an air of calm self-assurance about him, yet for a brief moment he just stares at Polaris as if he were expecting someone else. Then gives a minute shake of his head, glances at Winona, and clears his throat. "I'm terribly sorry for intruding unannounced, Ms -- Polaris. I'm Charles Xavier." "Yeah, I took moral philosophy my freshman year and it's not why I dropped out but it sure didn't give me any reasons to stay." Polaris shakes her head and eyes the book as Winona sets it down, feeling a little lightheaded even though the pain is starting to fade. "Ugh Machiavelli? Seriously? Okay, now I'm kinda glad I interrupted..." She trails off, her brows furrowing as she turns toward the door. << The fuck? >> Then the door opens, and she also stares at the unexpected visitor like she was expecting someone else. << Oh, that fuck. >> "Just Polaris," she says, a little stiffly. "And I know who you are. Sir." << Why the fuck is he here what the fuck is going on does he just do this randomly? >> "If you want to come in, come in. And close the door." There's a small delay. "Please." "I'm a bit glad you interrupted, too," admits Winona, and she turns around at the knocking, her mind shuffling through the people she thinks it might be, but then she unexpectedly sees Xavier. << Speaking of old white political philosophy guys... >> She starts towards the door to at Polaris's request, thinking to help with the task, despite Xavier surely being able to manage operating a door on his own. She bites her lip lightly and pauses before closing it, "Or. Are you wanting to have some kind of discussion alone or something? Do you know... ?" She looks towards Polaris curiously. If it troubles Xavier that Winona -- indeed, unnecessarily -- got the door for him, he gives no indication, only dips his head by way of either acknowledgement or gratitude. "Unless Polaris wishes it, I have no mind to displace a friend, Ms...?" His wheelchair hums further into the room, and his eyes track to the crowded bedside table, smiling faintly at the stack of books. "I know this is highly irregular, but I saw the news and realized that --" His brows furrow, ever so slightly, and he shakes his head. "Certainly I am no one special to you, but your parents were dear friends of mine, a long, long time ago." He hesitates, letting slip a complicated twitch of a smile too fleeting to easily interpret. "Friends, and comrades." "She's not going anywhere." Polaris sits up abruptly straighter, then immediately regrets it when the wave of pain sweeps through her, though she does not wince too hard. "Um. Unless you wanna, obviously?" she adds sheepishly to Winona. The low-grade terror that has gripped her since she woke up in the hospital, kept in check only by her uninterrupted stream of sitters, suddenly claws at her hard-won calm. There's a rattle all around them again. << What the actual fuck chill out this guy's not fucking Prometheus and if he was what's he gonna do I can just tip him over (is that ableist? I think that's ableist) >> "Sorry." She quiets the metal around them again. << Oh God I hope the nurse didn't hear that. >> "I'm just in some pain, sorry I was short with you." But at Xavier's explanation she blanches -- an impressive feat between her naturally light skin, the pallor of a long winter, and the ravages of her injury. The rattling starts right back up, her grief and fury clamoring too loud for a moment to articulate either in thoughts or words. She opens her mouth twice before finally managing, "What. The. Fuck. Did they send you? The nerve they fucking disowned me where do they get off acting like they care and if they cared why would they send someone else --" The screens of the machines around her are starting to show glitches, their soft chirps oddly distorted where her powers pull at their speaker. "-- and what the fuck do you mean by 'comrade'?" << Wait does he mean Magneto how does he know (I dunno, the metalbending you did on the evening news?) But why would Magneto roll with some rich liberal flatscan? (he would not) >> Winona shakes her head when Polaris checks if she wants to go. She steps away from the door, however, to avoid its swing should any of the medical personnel come in. "Winona," she answers to Xavier's prompting for her name. She crosses her arms firmly around herself as she continues watching Xavier with a concerned expression. << If he's some kind of secret Prometheus stooge, stupid to come here alone. How would he know her family? I don't know her family. >> Despite the thought, the idea of Polaris's family brings Wendy immediately to mind. "How would you recognize... ?" She mentally considers the asymmetry of the other two's knowledge of each other. Xavier bows his head. "They did not send me. We are...not on as good terms as we once were, hence my ignorance of your estrangement. I do apologize for causing more distress." His eyes skate aside to Winona at her question, his nod approving. "You are a good friend for being so cautious, but I have only come to offer well wishes and any assistance I might, for old time's sake." Oddly, the shaking has not drawn any apparent attention from outside, either from the police or the hospital staff. "It was the family resemblance that tipped me off initially, but your legal name was not hard to discover." "We were in activism together, in the late '80s and early '90s." Xavier props his elbows on the armrests of his chair and folds his hands together. "So much has changed since then, but it's a small community still, and tight-knit." << I am rich and liberal, >> his voice says in the young women's minds, calm and conversational and somehow clearly meant for them both, << but I am not a flatscan, and certainly not Prometheus. >> To Polaris alone, he adds << I do mean Magneto, and your mother, as well. Would you like help with that? >> Despite the lack of verbal explanation, it is immediately obvious to Polaris "that" refers primarily to the tiny magnetic storm she is whipping up, and secondarily the dull throbbing in her side. Polaris blinks rapidly, her magnetic interference calming if only by degrees. "I do look like the woman I used to call mother," she admits to Winona. "And my father...well. Fuck that guy." It's impossible to tell without digging deeper which "father" she refers to, and she hastily adds, "Not like, literally I mean--you know what I mean. Shit. Sorry, I just wasn't..." She comes up short at Xavier's voice in her mind, her eyes darting more than once to his lips as if looking will cause them to move in time to the words they never spoke. << Telepath! And he knows Magneto! >> Her already wide hazel eyes widen further. << Oh shit is mom a mutant too?! >> There's a bright flare of wonder here that burns down almost instantly to loss and betrayal. She looks to Winona helplessly. "Can I trust this guy to help? No offense," she adds to Xavier. "I know you're kinduva a big deal I just...need a second opinion." << Hive will fuck him all the way up if he tries anything... >> Winona's eyes widen when she hears the voice in her head. << He's a mutant! >> Her gaze turns to Polaris and then back again, << Maybe not stupid to come here alone if he was Prometheus. >> She meets Polaris's uncertain gaze with her lip still caught between her teeth. << I don't even know him-- not like he will submit to a background check. >> She straightens her posture into something more confident, "What kind of help are you offering? Like... money? Forgive me if I'm not real trusting, but... uh." << I have no reason to be. >> Xavier's reply in Polaris's mind is tinged with sorrow and perplexity and just a touch of bitterness, << Suzanna is human, as far as I know. But then, I thought her a steadfast ally, too. >> He does not seem in the least perturbed by the questions. << You are wise to be suspicious, >> to both of them again, his mental voice is soothing and reassuring, << but remember that your raiders -- you yourself, Polaris -- have trained at my school for years, and some were my students before that. I am not less a part of your community for being less visible. >> There's a subtle twitch at the corner of his eye when Polaris thinks of Hive. << Yes, I suppose he would, but he will not need to. >> Aloud again, he tells Winona, "You may run a background check if you wish, but I doubt you'd find much that isn't in my CV or social media." There is an edge of haughtiness here in the slight arch of his eyebrow, but it's immediately eclipsed by a conciliatory dip of his head. "I had mainly thought to pick up the bill for your stay here, but if there is anything else you require, please feel free to ask. I know this must be trying for you." Polaris frowns, looking down at the cat plush she is squishing between her hands. << Oh God was mom a chaser what the fuck good thing we're not talking anymore. >> Despite its content, this thought brings a surge of anguish and an attending wave of more intense rattling. << Okay, Boomer... >> She snorts, not exactly disdainful--she's too upset for that--but certainly more confident in her roommate than Xavier. "You underestimate Winona's research chops, and like, you know the Internet is forever." << I guess he predates the Internet, but like dude's kind of got a point? Unless we go down the "what if he's mind controlling us" rabbit hole. >> She hugs the distorted cat blob to her chest, and the pressure eases some of her distress; the dance of metal around her subsides again, the machines returning to their usual function. "Ryan's already offered to pay my bill." Automatic, slightly defensive, proud, even. But then she deflates a little. "I did kinda break a lot of expensive equipment, though." << And he's way richer than Ryan. Isn't he? He has to be. I got a motherfucking telepathic fairy godfather what is my life... >> There is a flash of irritation that passes through Winona at Xavier's claim about what a background check might turn up. The phrase << Rich men all have secrets >> passes through her mind, less of an active thought and more of a mantra that she keeps in mind when doing her research. In her expression, this just manifests in a momentary tension of her jaw. "I'm a bit more thorough than Google." She considers a few moments, though, and says to Polaris, with an edge of caution to her voice, "If he's willing to pay, I'd say take it..." The mental addition, << And maybe a few months for our rent too... >> seems less of a genuine request, and more of a manifestation of the standard anxiety involved in budgetary planning. "Ryan's got his own bills. I'm sure it's not a burden for him, but it might be less a burden for..." Winona gestures vaguely in Xavier's direction. Xavier's eyebrows lift, ever so slightly. "Mm. I fancy I've a decent handle of my online presence, but that was perhaps a foolish challenge to issue." He does not, admittedly, seem particularly worried about Winona rising to that challenge. << True enough. For that matter, everyone has secrets, and people like me -- and perhaps you -- must learn to keep secrets that are not our own. >> He offers her a small smile, rueful but not unkind. << That is as important as finding them, I think, and harder than either is knowing which ones we ought to tell, and when, and how. >> "I do respect your concerns about my offer, so I propose this..." He unfolds his hands, spreading them palm-up. "I will put my accountant in touch with the hospital and instruct him to pick up the bill only at your say-so." << You needn't interact further with me, and if you are truly concerned, Hive can check your mind for tampering. >> His eyes track between the two women. "Does this seem reasonable?" Polaris nods, slow and abstract. "Yeah, you're -- probably right." It's only at a slight delay she looks up at Winona. "I honestly have no idea Ryan's finances, but he does so much for us." There's a fierce affection beneath these words, but she does not bother clarifying who she means by "us" in word or thought. "But yeah, that does sound reasonable. And it's not like I really thought you --" Her mouth snaps shut and she hugs the cat plush tighter. << Not like I really thought you were mind controlling us like what the fuck kind of four-dimensional chess would you have to be playing... >> "Thank you, though. I mean. This is super weird, but weird is pretty much like the new normal." She chews on her lower lip, already pale and chapped and not much improved by the gesture. "I...actually would like to know more about my -- uh, sperm donor? Literally all I know about him is propaganda -- the Brotherhood's, or the government's." << This is stupid why do I even care family isn't blood he's never been there for me fuck fuck fuckity fuck dude can hear me this is so fucking rude -- >> Polaris scrubs her face with both hands. "Like not right now, but...maybe some time? When I have fewer holes in me." << I'm no stranger to secrets. Or what to do with them, >> Winona thinks back deliberately, to directly answer the voice in her head. "That sounds reasonable to me too, not that it's my decision or anything. I don't figure you're actually up to anything sinister, y'know. Like you noted yourself, though, there's value in caution." She shrugs and then starts back to reclaim her seat, << Flatscan or not, even mutants can betray their own people. >> Her thoughts flash briefly to a stern looking, muscular man in his Prometheus guard uniform, accompanied by a searing hatred. "You have a business card or something? For contacting you directly?" Xavier nods slowly. "That he does. And I cannot get 'Cambrian Explosion' out of my head." He sounds entirely serious about this. << I truly believe you do, >> he tells Winona, and then aloud to Polaris, something ineffably sad in the gaze he turns on her, "I should be happy to tell you more about him, in your own time, of course. I know that you have been -- busy, injury aside." << And, if you care for an old man's unsolicited opinion, that is neither rude nor stupid. You care about what you care about, and it's never wrong to at least give it consideration. >> He turns fully -- chair and all -- to Winona at that flash of memory, his expression is difficult to read. << Yes, they can, >> his reply is soft and deliberate. << I am so sorry you had to learn it that way. >> "Now... The smart-ass answer would be that my contact information is on the school's website, but..." He fishes a plain business card from an elegant metal case and rolls over to lay it neatly atop the stack of books on the nightstand. "...this is my personal email and number." Polaris stares at Xavier, unable to decide whether she's grateful or irritated or both. "I don't disagree with you there, it's just...complicated." Her eyes track him as he goes to set down the card. "Not your problem, but--well, I appreciate it. Mom never wanted to tell me sh--anything about him, so, thanks...Sir?" << Professor? Doctor? What do I even call this guy? >> She does not reach for the card, but she flashes a small, cautious smile. "I'll be in touch."