X-Men MUCK - Sunday, September 07, 2003, 1:48 AM
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<<XS>> Lab/Medbay - LvB2
Walls are sterile white and surfaces gleam in polished stainless steel, the large room a vision of cool science tinged with the faint medical smell of antiseptic and filled with the soft whirring of autoclaves, refrigeration units, and various medical scanners and devices. Four hospital beds are present near the entrance, curtains rigged to allow for privacy, but pulled back when not in use. In shielded alcoves off the back wall are the resident doctor's pride and joy: A full-body X-Ray machine, as well as an MRI unit and other heavy-duty imagery equipment. Between the alcoves, through a thick glass window, a small operating theatre can be glimpsed. In the lab section, an electron microscope and a pair of gene-sequencers take place of pride, glassware and smaller equipment kept securely locked away in the cabinets underneath and above the work surfaces.
[Exits : [H]allway ]
[Players : Xavier ]

A bit mussed, far more frazzled, Moira has been working non-stop since the shocking news of little Nate's parentage has been revealed. It started as a simple parentage trace for Jean and has now boiled over into a full scale gene-tracing, x-factor plotting, charting records from both parents to see what might be inherited, what evolutions have already started to appear, in what manner he might have been created, through some abstract form of cloning or something entirely more... sinister. What complication may arise from the child's increased potential for powers unlike this world has ever seen... and knowing full well on how disasterous such complications can be... The nook she's made for herself during her stay down here looks almost directly imported from Muir Isle itself. Especially the bottle of scotch that rests at her right hand, along with the heavy glass half full. Rubbing at her eyes under a pair of square glasses for tired eyes, Moira sighs heavily at this particularly messy situation...

Xavier walks into the medlab, relying on his cane only occassionally. He opens his mouth, obviously intending to ask some question when the smell of rather good scotch assails his nostrils. He gives Moira a wry smile, knowing why she's doing this even without having to touch her mind. His own actions the day before with Sabella also weigh on him as much as the truth about the child's potential. He walks closer to Moira, moving as silently as he can before reaching a hand out to place it on her shoulder. "Hello. I finally finished with the paperwork that needed doing and I was going to see if you wanted to conduct my physical. By the looks of things however, you've got something on your own mind."

Moira thinks deep thoughts, her mind awhirl with genetics and biological coding and x-factor charts and histories, her sole focus on the tasks ahead. And that's why she didn't hear the doors open, footsteps coming closer, any cane taps... Frowning at an idle thought of why a man might be crazy enough to play with people's lives this way plus the way these particular psionic signifiers are lining up and - "Ha-mercy!," Moira jumps with a start to the hand to her shoulder, placing a hand at her collarbone as if to try and keep her heart inside her chest. A panted breath as he talks, she slowly turns around looking... up. Heh. "Charles!," she says in breathless admonishment. "Y'couldhae knock'd on th' bloody dur! Ye neerlay scared me haf tae death!" Oh, someone's had a start on the bottle, esily monitored by the thicker brogue; she's not intelligable, not yet. But on her way there... A small smile, Moira places a hand on the one on the shoulder. "Th' physical, aye...," she nods, remembering her 'to-do' list. Curiously, she asks, "izzat whit ye came here fer this lae'?"

Xavier smiles slightly at the tone of her inquiry. "Well, I know you. You sleep even less than I do and I thought you'd still be up for it." He leans back resting on the edge of one of the laboratory tables while fiddling idly with the head of his cane. "However, it doesn't look like you're in any shape to giving me a physical, my dear..." He grins playfully, reaching for the bottle and holding it up to the light. "Glennfiditch. Hmmm... this looks like the emergency bottle I normally hide in the bottom of the bandages drawer." He raises an eyebrow. "Has Jean been showing you where the drinks are cached?"

Moira reaches up to snatch the bottle away. "Och! Thinkin' me a filtcher? Nae, I brough' tha' wit' me meself, thankyeverramuch!" Successful or no, Moira grabs for her glass anyway, taking the half down to a quarter. "Jean has better things tae be dooin' than showin' me where ye keep th' guid stuff, 'sides," she mutters. A snort, she gestures to the paperwork spread out before her like a snowfall. "An' I ken how busy ye've ben, commin' back tae th' school annal, so I nae bother'd ye te ge' doon here fer a look-up. Plus, there's th' matter o' th' boy tae tend tae... oof."

Xavier nods slightly, his face sobering, "Indeed... the boy. I shared with Jean my own theory as to why it was hers and Scott's DNA that was used. His own energy processing gifts channeled through psionic abilities... the possibilities are staggering." He pauses, bending down to gather the papers.

Moira responds with wide eyes, grabbing up a handfull of the documents to prove it. "Oh, aye, Charles... i's astoundin'..." She speaks with a little awe, respectful of the genetic potential, and a great deal of cold, clammy worry. And maybe a pinch of panic. "I had tae goo back tae m'own work tae find a suitable basis f'r th' findin's... Charles, izzal there!" The pages fall from her hand to land back on the desk, her hand falling defeatedly back in her lap.

Xavier looks through the papers slowly, fitting his findings there with his own thoughts on the matter and finding the science behind it is, as ever, impecable... and to some extent... quite horrifying. "I think... I think I could do with a bit of a drink, myself Moira." He puts a hand in hers. "If I read those correctly, it's entirely possible he may begin expressing abilities even before puberty. It's very unusual, but not impossible."

Moira nods, giving his hand a bit of a squeeze, "Th' whole thin's un-yu-sual! I cannae ge' een th'bares' hint o'when he may manifest, peak," a weary sigh, "o'een be able tae contain his own ability." She downs the rest of her glass to ward off any thoughts of her own son, still sealed away in cryogeneic freeze to protect him from the ravages of his own excess power. "We're goonae doo righ' by him, I swear i'...," she says with a sigh, trying to buoy up her optimism and focus it determinedly towards a solution... whatever it may be. Empty glass? Refilled and handed to Xavier.

Xavier smiles his thanks and takes a healthy slug, feeling it burn smoothly down his throat. He closes his eyes for a second and puts it down. "Indeed." His own thoughts chase back to his own son, immensely powerful, but with a mind shattered by his own abilities and kept away for his own protection. He takes another drink, forcing those thoughts back and feeling the warm glow of the drink suffuse him. "We'll do what is necessary for this child, I swear that to you."

Moira snorts again, "Dinnae tell me, tell Jean. I dinnae like deliverin' bad news, especially unwelcome news, an' eev more unbelievable unwelcome bad news. Wonna th'wors' bits aboot havin' a MD I tell ye." She leans back in her hand, and puts the side of her hand to her forehead. "Tell Scott... wai'... tell Scott, has anyone spoken tae th'puir lad ye? I've nae been able t' find tha' boy aboot..."

Xavier says, "I've tried to speak with Scott. He's been... rather distant for a while now. Ever since he and Jean broke up, he's buried himself in his work." A faint look of worry passes across his features before he takes another drink, polishing off his glass. "It's as though all my children are having these problems and I can't truly do anything for them."

Moira makes a bit of a face and holds up a finger to point with, "D'ye ken whit Jean tol' me when I tol' her th'truth o' th' boy? D'ye knoo whit she said tae me?" Her eyes take a moment to find his, but stay locked on after with a dire intent. "She tol' me *not* tae blame ye. Firs- *second thing* oughta her mouth. An' she's *right*! Absoloot-leh righ'!" Her gesturing hand drops to grab for the glass, refill number two. This time, she keeps the botle and takes a quick nip before continuing. "An' aye! Ye cannae keep crazy fekkin' bampots fr'm taking genetic samples o' yuir students and usin' 'em fer his own devices, *bet* ye *can* be there fer them when they need ye." A nod, "Tha's whit ye can doo. Noo, ye're nae goona go blamin' yuirsel' noo, righ'?"

Xavier gently takes the bottle away from Moira, squeezing her hand before he takes a slug straight out of the bottle and tries to shake off his own gloomy thoughts. "I see what you're saying Moira... but they're still my students. My responsibility. I should've been here and not down in the Riviera gallavanting about like a madman because I had my legs back." He still looks fairly steady, but there's a slight slowness to his voice and his eyes aren't quite as hawk keen as they usually are.

Moira pouts a bit as the bottle's taken away, then more as the man decides to wallow in it. "Aaach, anna whit wuid ye hae doon 'ere, aye? Stopped i'all? Kep' Jean locked oop somewhere or-or kep' watch o'er her tae make sure noh-one stole 'er 'way? Phaugh..." She shakes her head. "Anna dinnae gimme this 'madman' line, annat! Ye tooka rest! Izznae a crime an' ye knoo i'!" The scotch is catching up to the Scotswoman's brain. A couple more swigs and she may be in a fighting mood...

Xavier takes a longer slug of the bottle, smiling woozily at Moira before passing it back to her. "I suppose you're right, but I'm trying to set a standard... and while I know there was nothing I could have done, it still bothers me that I didn't have any chance to do something. Or something. I think..." His eyes are definitely no longer quite as focused as before and he looks at Moira, while tilting his head to the side slightly.

Moira looks at him over the rim of her glasses as if to size him up and takes the bottle from him matter-of-factly, "Charles Xavier, I'll hae nonna this maudlin mood fr'm ye, hear?" She shakes the bottle at him emphatically, then looks at it as if it were just discovered. "An' whit onna Eyarth arre ye dooin' drinki'?," she asks, putting the bottle down (after just one more 'teensy' swig) and capping it quickly. "Ye're terribul a'i'! Coul' baerely take a few wee shots a'Kaym-bers..." The bottle and glass snuck away a bit clumsily, she adds, "Ah'm oot f'r th' nigh', les git ye back oopstairs..."

Xavier straightens up with some slight difficulty, and hooks his cane onto his belt, "I'm perfectly fine, Moira." He does put an arm around her shoulders, on the pretense of supporting her... but does also a bit of leaning on her while he's at it. "You're the one who has trouble holding her liquor as I recall. Including quite a number of incidents involving you attempting to moon the freshman dorm." He smirks, his eyes twinkling.

Moira starts to get up from her chair, determinded not to look as wobbly as she feels. The chair rolls away out from under her completely and nearly tumbles ot the floor if it wasn't for a well placed arm around her shoulders. Instead of the cold tile, she hits up against him and puts both arms on his shoudlers to keep the two of them steady. "Good god, ye're tall," she adds under her breath before her dignities placed in question. Pulling away, she lines up right next to him and shakes a fist, "Anna thes wee plinkers *deserved* i'!"

Xavier nods slowly, as though fearing his head will fall off. "Indeed they did. And such a perfectly executed moon at that... round and full..." The barest hint of a snicker escapes his lips before he can stop it. "Ahh... I'd almost swear I was years younger and we were staggering home after one of our infamous pub crawls." He keeps you both more or less steady, heading for the door, he takes a moment to nuzzle his face into your hair, "You're still as lovely now as you were then."

Moira tries to be cross, more professional, dignified... and just loses it. Giggling behind a hand, she leans against his shoulder and pats against his chest lightly. "Och, luv, le's ge' ye tae bed, ah?," she says with a soft sigh, smiling warmly at his touch. Lifting her head up, she could have sworn these hallsways weren't that long a moment ago... and do they all look the same? Moira tips her head towards the school's headmaster, bringing herself nearly nose to nose with the man, "An' noh moore blamin' yuirsel'!" Poke. "Jean sai' nottae!" Poke. "Anna ifn ye doo, Ah'm gonnae... gonnae... report ye tae th'skool headmaster!" Another fit of giggle ensues.

Xavier looks puzzled for a moment as he tries to decode what exactly was said before he speaks again, reaching up to 'beep' her nose with his finger, "So... let me get this straight... if I misbehave... you shall report me... to myself?" He blinks rapidly before dissolving into his own unbridled guffaws. A sound that has been unheard in this school in quite a while.

Moira wriggles her nose at the beep, rather dazed by the action as she attempts to manipulate the elevator to go up, eventually nudging the right button with the toe of her shoe. Her arms draped around him, she nods emphatically as the mutual dragging towards somewhere is well under way. "Aye! A full riteoop fer beeyen too bloody doon! It'll goo on yuir permanen' recoord an' everythin'!"

Xavier nods faster this time, and somehow with his mental shields lowered somewhat by the drink, he seems to have acquired her accent along the way. "Aye, bu a c'n also ha changes made to me oon reccord if I wish't." He laughs some more, keeping a firm arm around Moira as the elevator finally arrives and they both stagger into it, ending up resting against the wall. "Think you can still remember any o' those songs we used to sing on our way ba' tae the dorms? Tha sort that got bricks and cats thrown a' us by angry folk!"

Moira tumbles in right on after, ending up resting against Xavier who's resting against the wall. One arm wrapped about his neck comfortably, her free hand hits against her head as if she had forgotten the secrets of the universe. "Ochcripes," she says, head rolling back into memory. "Ahum..." A moment, then the song comes rather naturally, "As Ah wen' a-walkin' i' th' Nurth con-tree, doon by Kirby Steven I happen' fer tae bee, as I wuz walkin' oop an' doon th' street, a pretty young buy-a-broom ahh chanzfer tae meet...."

Xavier harmonizes with her in a rather pleasant baritone, or as closely as you can harmonize when both singers are rather close to falling down drunk, "For she was right, I was tight, everybody has their way... It was the lish young buy-a-broom that led me astray..." He pauses for a breath before belting out the next verse, "She kindly then invited me to go a little way... Yes was the answer to her I did say... There was; me with my music walkin down the street... And her with a tamborine was beatin hand and feet."

As the song continues the elevator hisses to a stop, depositing them both on the ground floor as they stagger out still singing and hanging off of one another... there's a moment of indecision before they somehow end up wandering into the Professor's office. "Thi' is nae the loo?" He pauses, baffled.

<<XS>>Xavier's Office - Lv1
A comparatively smallish room leading off from the Main Computer Room and Library is Xavier's office. Elegantly furnished in rich cream and mahogany, several tall bookcases line the wall, and a desk dominates the center of the room, appropriately set about with the various necessities. Potted ferns and leather armchairs as well as several Monets displayed along the wall make the room's appearance comfortable, and broad windows look out to the Mansion Gardens, beyond.
[Exits : [M]ain [C]omputer [R]oom, [X]avier's [R]oom, and [Li]brary ]
[Players : Xavier ]

Moira is quite loud for a couple corridor's worth of travel before finding a louder whisper to sing by, as if they really were two young students again... instead of two of the older staff memebers of the school itself. Moira swears she knows exactly where she's navigating to, opening the door with him and staring wide-eyed at the new surroundings. "It's the office," she says before cracking up... and losing her grip on the Professor. After her definitive statement on their current location, Moira completes the prerequisites for being a falling down drunk by landing in a heap on the floor. Then laughing more.

Xavier gets dragged down by Moira on her way to the floor, laughing with her and rolling about, amused, kicking his legs into the air as the door slams shut, completely forgotten... just like the lines of the next verse. Oh well... no great loss.

Moira laughs louder at the slamming of the door, certain that noise could be heard across the whole building. Rolling up on top of him, Moira puts a finger to her lips, then to his, "Shhh!," she tries, "Shhh! Quieh ye! Th' ol bloody place i'gonnae hear ye! Th'lass thing we need izztae wind oop inna compremizin' sitshi... sitshh... place." Forehead to collarbone, Moira dips her head down.

Xavier tchs, clicking his tongue somewhat mushilly as he runs his fingers through her hair, "Isn't a compromising place... is my office. People come in and out of here alla time." He keeps one hand on her hip, nuzzling into the top of her head, "No one's gonna think anythin' odd 'bout you bein' here."

Moira settles in. On the floor of the office, against Xavier himself. After all, if no one's going to think this is odd or anything... "Aulrigh' thin," she murmurs, her arms kept around him and cushioning his head off the rug. The soft stoking of her hair, the comfortable company, the warm drink in her veins, all are working against the doctor's ability to stay awake. "Whir cumpletlee buzy an' cannae be disturb'd." Her eyes lids start to droop...

Xavier slides his fingers through her hair once more, remembering back to when he used to give her scalp massages back in college and begins to apply slight pressure. "Yes, indeed... indeed..." He's also feeling the effects of that lovely scotch himself... add to that his lowered defenses have him somewhat exposed to several dozen minds currently fast asleep... and in physical contact with someone in the process of falling asleep. "Terribly, terribly busy... although I think, a bit of a nap's in order. Just... rest... my... eyes... a tad..." His voice trails off as his eyes slowly shut.

Moira only responds with a soft snore...