X-Men MUCK -
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<<XS>> Kitchen - Lv1
Meant to service a large number of people, this kitchen is vast, with more than one oven and several stainless steel work surfaces. Inset into the ceiling are fluorescent glow strips, throwing everything into bright, if somewhat harsh light. At meal times, kitchen workers scurry to and fro with pans and food and various other sundry items. But out of those times, everything is in its place, and there's even a tray of cold snacks for those who might come in search of a bite to eat.
[Exits : [Pat]io, and [H]allway
]
Xavier steps into the kitchen. Yes, steps in. He's been walking since Sabella repaired the damage to his spine and several months of physical therapy and rest have done wonders. He's currently dressed in a white suit, a straw fedora and a light blue turtle neck
and still keeps a cane handy as he tires quicker on his feet, but otherwise he's looking quite fit, trim and rather tanned from several months in the sunny Riviera. He has a somewhat battered suitcase in hand, having just quietly arrived from the airport and looks about with a smile creasing his face.
Happy humming of 'Take My Breath Away' can be heard proceeding a nicely-relaxed Jean into the kitchens, a massive metal mixing bowl in her arms bereft of the popcorn it once contained, devoured down to a few scattered unpopped kernels rattling in the bottom. Rather than cheat and use teke, she's got a DVD case of the Top Gun collector's edition held in her teeth as she navigates opening the door one-handed, then gives up and resorts to it anyways as the popcorn bowl nearly escapes her. "Watching every motion in this foolish lover's game.... hmm hmm hmm ocean, hmmm hmm feel no shame." It appears that Saturday Night Staff Movie Night has been revived, and with a classic favourite among the Blackbird-jockeying faculty members too. A DVD case which promptly takes a dive for the floor as a beaming Jean catches sight of just who else is in the kitchen. "Professor!" is exclaimed far too girlishly for an almost thirty-something as Jean skips over to offer a hug. "You're back, and your muscle tone is looking good." Well, yes, Jean -is- still a doctor.
Coming in from the patio is Drake, trench coat fluttering from the evening breeze about his thin frame. Chains jingle and clank with each step he takes as he calmly closes the door behind him, locking it, then turns his eyes upon those who have gathered in the kitchen. Dark black bangs sprawl out over his eyes in a combed, messy
fashion. ".. Evening.. Hey.. Professor Xavier, you are ..walking. That’s cool." He says softly as a twinge
of his lips rise upwards to form a grin.
Moira is a fount of undertakings and endeavors morning, noon and night; rarely does a moment pass where the woman can't be seen hard at work in the lab, under an armful of papers, pacing the grounds hooked into an international call to juggle her work at Muir, the School and the world genetics 'scene' at large. Even her guest room is a buzz with activity at all hours with faxes and charts and readings, it's a true wonder if this woman ever does sleep. From the MedLab to the kitchen, clipboard in hand, Dr. MacTaggart ruffles through a thick sheaf of paper, talking animatedly on a headset, the faint of sound of 'I dinnae *care* whit time it is over there...' heard through the hallway. Her eyes bounce towards the open kitchen door and she nearly drops the clipboard as she makes note of its contents. "Call back." The headset is whipped off as she quickly changes her path to stand in the door's frame, arms folded and a strictly surprised-pleased-trying-to-fake-stern expression all over her face. She's not saying anything, not yet. He's got a welcome from his students to come home to first...
Xavier beams hugely as he returns sets the suitcase down, lays the walking stick atop it and returns the hug. "Indeed. Its amazing what few months of swimming and hiking can do." He sweeps the fedora off his head with a jaunty flair. "It would appear that the old place isn't wrecked, so I have reason to believe that things have gone smoothly during my absence.” He notes the fallen DVD and inwardly groans. He just knows the next few faculty flown Blackbird flights are going to involve unnecessary aerial
acrobatics and people calling for 'The Gooseman'. He shakes free of his reverie to favor Drake with a smile and a nod, "Mr. Stanton. It's good to be home." THEN he spots Moira... and a whole wealth of emotions flicker across his face for a moment, but iron disciplined mutant trained control steps in and he smoothes his face into complete neutrality, with a faint smile. He knew she was arriving. He knew she'd already be here when he got back... He didn't know she still looked this good.
"No, we managed to keep it in one piece... and I've got a -lot- to report to you once you're settled in."Jean notes significantly. Phoenixes and Strykers and split-personality'd Succubi, oh my. Releasing Xavier after making sure the hug is more than a polite New England one, the red-haired telepath steps back to retrieve the DVD and popcorn bowl, noting that inward groan and simply smiling to herself. "At least we don't have an ATC tower to buzz?" She attempts to offer a bright side as she empties the kernels into the garbage and then finds a place for the bowl in one of the dishwashers, discreetly giving the Charles and Moira show some time to play out, motioning to Drake that he should grab the Professor's suitcase for him.
Slowly but surely, the Gothicy matrix wannabe makes his way over to the professor. One hand is bare, the other gloved up to the elbow. He reaches out with the leathered fingers, sliding them around the handle of the suitcase and lifts it upwards, holding it for the Professor as Jean instructs. One can't see his eyes behind the silver mirrored shades, which honestly would look ridiculously cool at night. It’s just like him. "Can I get you anything, sir?" He
asks softly, tongue ring clicking over his teeth in a light tickety
tack.
Moira stands up nearly military straight as she looks him over, stem to stern, checking his posture, the curve of his spine, the balance of his waist, shoulders and hips, with as clinical an air as she can muster, though the smile that threatens her lips is far from professional. "Well, well," she starts, "So Jean didnae send me X-Rays and charts tae make a puir lass go batty, aye?" The scientific demeanor drops as she seems more than satisfied that someone very dear to her has been given a great gift. Moira sees no reason to school her emotions for dignity's sake; not only did she seriously date a man who could read her every thought if he so desired, but the Scots aren't brought up in that cold, British fashion on purpose. Her shoulders drop, hips shift as the woman is awash in warm feelings, genuinely pleased to see him. " It's good tae see ye home, Charles."
*Clink* *Clank* *Clink* *Clank* Hank is heard long before he's seen, wandering into the kitchen from his workshop, where he's been fiddling on things. After his devolution, he's been self confined to his room for roughly a month, mourning his fate and trying to come to terms. Xavier will be happy that he's finally out and trying to accept what's become of himself. Though he's somewhat anti-social, throwing himself into his work. Though the entire motorpool is purring like a kitten, and the X-Jet has been tuned up and had a full systems checkout. In fact he's been working his way all over the mansion, just so he doesn't have to talk to people. Hank's currently not wearing his glasses, a pair of goggles with a small light in place over his eyes as he strolls into the kitchen with a small box of parts in his hands. Apparently he'd been working on the Danger Room when the call of twinkies had overwhelmed him once more, and drawn him to the kitchen with single-minded purpose. His secret Twinkie stash, in the false panel of the cupboard. That is until he sees Charles, standing there and the box drops from his hands and hits the floor, scattering circut boards across the floor. Hank's at a loss for words, it was so different seeing his mentor, friend, father-figure and teacher -standing- there. "Evening, Professor Xavier. You're looking upwardly mobile." Hank offers as he mentally slaps himself for that, as he kneels down to start gathering up the dropped box's contents. He glances to Jean, looking sheepish. She warned him to be ready for him to return walking; it was just so......odd.
Xavier is snapped out of his reverie by Drake's
solicitous offer. "Ah, no. I'm quite all right,
Mr. Statton, thank you." He does seem to look
slightly awkward though, he has one hand clutching his cane near the middle,
his other hand is holding his fedora over his chest almost defensively as he
continues to look at Moira, still looking for something to say. Finally he
smiles more openly, feeling the wash of Moira's affection without meaning to.
He shifts his cane from one hand into the other, clutching hat and cane both as
he takes a few steps, extending a hand out to her. "It's good to be home,
Moira. You're looking well." He also notes Hank's entry into the kitchen
and gives him a smile and a nod, "You're looking well yourself, Hank. Good
to see you," He manages before shifting his full attention back to Moira.
Jean nods slightly as Xavier corrects himself on Drake's last name without prompting, smiling to herself as she attempts to find something else to fiddle with in the kitchen, not intending to leave the area for the world, since the reunion of these two old research partners is something she's no doubt going to be quizzed about later by Storm. Ah! Collecting Beast's scattered electronic bits. Certainly useful busy-work, corralling them with teke and scooping them up. "Told you he was walking." she winks to Hank, handing over the first fruits of her efforts. "And of course not, Moira," she replies regarding the X-rays, grinning a touch mischievously. "That would ruin the fun of the surprise. Right, sir?"
The Gothic, having nothing typically to ever add, just.. stands there holding the Professor's case. No one told him what to do with it. Furrowing his brows, he walks to the table and sets it down on there. Clink, jangle, clank. Those chains of his make quite a symphony of angst and metal as he moves. Suddenly, his cell phone goes off in what appears to be the Phantom of the Opera's ring tone. After peering down it, a slight smile tugs on his lips. Text message from Jubilee: HELLO? Where are you? Movie night! Rec room. NOW. With a clear of his throat, he rubs his neck, then murmurs a soft 'excuse me' to no one in particular, making his way to the door.
Moira, as familiar with the school's founder as she is, is quick to note the awkwardness of his stance. Though, not being a telepath, she's left to wander if it is hesitancy towards her or simply a misalignment of his newly grafted legs. In either case, she is more than happy to make the trip easier for the Professor, crossing the remaining distance between then and wrapping her arms about him for an affectionate and welcoming hug. Sure, this might be improper, but at the moment she simply won't bother with such things. "Och! Yuir taller than me now!," she says, teasingly thwarted.
Beast smiles to Xavier, looking himself over. "As well as can be expected, but thank you Sir." He smiles to Jean as she helps him gather his bits. "Thanks Jean, if I lost any of this....Professor Xavier would turn me into a rug in front of his library fireplace." He jokingly thanks her for helping and nods. "Yes you did, it's just seeing is believing. I'm sure my own appearance gets a similar shock, from old friends." He looks to Drake and bows his head. "Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Statton. Please mind the circuitry as you depart." He glances up and smiles at Moira and the Professor. Well, let's see how long it is before the gossip is flowing through the populace here.
Xavier is a tad awkward for a moment but that quickly flows away as he finds himself in Moira's welcome embrace. He smiles and murmurs, "It is indeed good to be home. We haven't done this in this position in a while." He adds with a playful grin, looking far more relaxed now. Although despite his mental defenses, Jean does manage to catch a whisper of a thought from Xavier along the lines of: "My goodness, she smells good." He doesn't quite note Beast's speculative look, being somewhat caught up in an armful of attractive Scottish lass, but it might be safe to say that the rumor mill's going to have quite a bit of mileage off of this.
Oh, definite mileage. Especially with that overheard whisper of mental thought that has Jean quickly clapping a hand to her mouth to cover an expression half shocked and half wickedly delighted. She -couldn’t- have just 'heard' that, could she? And darn telepathic ethics to keep her from sharing the dirt with Storm. Then again... The daughter of House Grey's expression is private and pondering as she bends down to actually get her hands dirty in picking up a few more of the circuit boards. Then again, it's not like this is a harmful or embarrassing secret or something, and Ororo Monroe is probably as close to Xavier as she is... No. Stupid ethics. The next handful of collected circuitry is deposited with a little more force than necessary, as Jean is forced to sit on her findings. "Evening, Drake... tell Jubilee I still want to see her about those dreams," she offers in parting comment to the Goth, waiting to see if he still jumps at the mention of his girlfriend-but-not's name, even though she's stabbing in the dark about where the lad's headed. Helping herself to a bottle of spring water from the fridge, she remains leaning on the counter, allowing delicately that "I'm sure you two have a lot to catch up on..." to Charles and Moira.
Actually, the Goth doesn't jump. He simply offers a grin
to the redhead and gives her a thumbs up. The two have talked things out, made it
official, and have now decided that PDA's, (Not Palms or HandSprings)
are alright as long as they are contained politely to not gross anyone out. Woot. With that, a jingle and a jangle, he slips
out, giving Hank a pat on the shoulder as he goes by. His
favorite, obviously. Gadgets galore and blue fur!
Moira laughs gregariously, tipping her head back as she gives one good squeeze before holding him out at arm's length in admiration, saying quietly between the two of them, "Och, f'r a man who's onna first name basis with alla his own brain cells, I certainly wonder a' yuir way with words…" Half of her thoughts turn to how solid he feels on his own two feet, how well his balance seems, how much muscle tissue has redeveloped from the last three x-rays she compared, and the other half… believes in miracles. In reply, her tone becomes more inclusive of the rest of the room's audience. "Aye, a great deal! Most important of which is a medical reevaluation. As soon as ye're settled in, I wan' tae see ye in th' MedLab an' get a good look a' how guid this therapy ye've been away f'r was…" A small wink is kept between the two of them.
Curse not being telepathic, but what one doesn't know, won't hurt them. He returns to gathering the boards up, and finally stands, placing the box on the table. "Thankfully these were the backup boards. This is going to take me a while to sort out." Hooray, a puzzle. Another reason for him to delay on Moira's perscription. "Indeed, would you like Jean and myself to make ourselves scarce?" He grins at Moira and looks to Jean. "Perhaps you should have taken Moira a long on your rest and rehabilitation vacation, Professor." He offers a wide fanged grin to Jean.
Xavier blushes slightly as he realizes that bit of leakage through his shields may have reached Jean, before he closes his mind again smooth and seamless. All this takes a fraction of a second, but even Moira might note the slight blush on the old man's features, but that may have been from her last statement. He raises his own voice slightly, now including Jean and Hank in the conversation. A bit of her old playfulness seeming to rub off on his own normally straight-laced demeanor. "You're just looking for an excuse to put me in one of those drafty gowns we keep down there."
Jean, who's used that 'medical examination' line in the past herself, doesn't need to see that wink to theorize about its' existence. A small memory-image of Logan down in her lair for an 'annual physical' escapes from behind Jean's own shields, well tinged with a mental stamp best read as 'Naaaah, couldn't be.' before she takes an editorial sip of her water and banishes such things, joining in the general banter. "Ah, but if he'd done that, Blue, they'd still both be gone, sitting on a nice Mediterranean beach with some of those drinks with fruit on little sticks in them... And of course not, sir!" she assures, all bright and efficient, but with teasing in her eyes and coloring her mental barriers. "You'd get a drafty gown kept specially for -you-."
Moira answers in all seriousness, "Why else d'ye think we keep them doon there? Certainly nae f'r th' patients benefit..." Realizing she might be holding on to the man a little longer than she should, her hands fall from his shoulders, clipboard retrieved. Her fingers flick through a few sheets of paper until she finds the studies kept above an assessment of genomic instability via Chromosome 7 Inversion and below Rahne's school schedule: regrown muscle tissue of C. Xavier. "If ye think th' rehabilitation is over, ye're greatly mistaken..."
Beast shakes his head at Moira and Jean. "You'll have to excuse Jean, Professor. She's eager to up her count in the spot the bare behind game with Ororo." He offers a bit of a smirk to Jean, and sidesteps away. Not that he needed to stand close to her to receive a telekinetic swat for being cheeky. Especially in front of Charles. "I'd suggest a strategic retreat sir, before they have you being poked and prodded on all sides." He glances between Moira and Jean. Women, who will truly ever crack their mysteries. But like a rubix cube, they are interesting to try to solve.
Xavier gives a pleased laugh, even after catching a
glimpse of Jean's own escaping thought. Well, she's a grown woman... but what
she doesn't know won't shock the living daylights out of her. "Ah... splendid. A drafty gown to
call my own." If it wasn't obvious before, it's becoming all the
more clear now. Whatever he's been doing for the past few months has definitely
revitalized him. His eyes are brighter and there's a palpable energy radiating
off of him. Where before he only gave the impression of
dignified gravitas, now he seems almost giddy as a schoolboy. You'd
swear he was twenty years younger. He takes a step back, regretfully out of the
all too pleasant hug Moira was giving him and bows, taking her hand in his, to
plant a light kiss on the back of her hand. "Much as I hate to keep a lady
waiting, unpacking awaits me... as well as a few hours to reset my body clock,
however, I do look forward to your assistance in my physical
rehabilitation." He seems to be taking Hank's advice...
... But there's a slight twinkle in his eye at the last
word... you don't suppose he means-- Nah... it
couldn't be.
"Um. Ew,
no, Hank McCoy." Jean replies,
reverting to the teenage-speak prevalent around the Mansion for dramatic
effect. She pauses a moment, gauging
just how daring a comment to make, before deciding to go ahead and say it
anyways. She can outrun them both. "That only counts for pilots in Top Gun. And anyways, I'm sure Moira would find it
much more interesting than I." A
perfectly innocent smile, and Jean raises her water
bottle in a toast, looking madly amused at the grave Professor's turn to
courtly clowning. "And much as I'd
love to stay and keep you two old friends from getting around to sharing what embarrassing
things your ex-students have done lately, I've got a Wolverine to go rescue
from Yuriko Oyama."
Moira smiles broadly as her hand is kissed, muttering an "Och! Ye..." in teasing tones. Oh, what a rogue and charmer is Charles Xavier. The Moira What Lurks the Mansion like an island refugee is a far cry from the loud, laughing, girlish woman standing in the kitchen currently. She knows what a difference this man's presence can make upon this school and it's student, how the founder's determination, leadership and insight into the Dream, his Dream, can fuel the entire Mansion like a battery. An energy she can get caught up in as well. An emphatic shake of her clipboard, "I fully expect tae see ye in th' lab bright an' sharp," she replies, attempting to garner a serious tone, "or, so help me, I'll drag ye oot of bed m'self." Or is she? "Get some rest an' I'm going tae see ye in th' mornin'..."
Beast grins wide at getting an eww out of Jean. His work here done. "Well, I should be departing as well. I have a ton of work to finish, and some circuit boards to restore now." He looks at the box of parts and picks it up. "I'll see everyone, when I see them." He snaps the strap of his goggles, and starts strolling out of the kitchen. He'll snag some twinkies from his bedroom stash. "Sleep well, all. Pleasant dreams."
Xavier smiles at Hank and inclines his head, "To you as well, Hank." He puts his hat back on his head, placing a hand on Jean's shoulder, "Good work, keeping the mansion running, Jean. Well done." He pauses, looking around for his luggage which appears to have vanished. Did Drake perhaps take it with him absentmindedly? Charles was a little preoccupied at the time and failed to notice. He shrugs, knowing it will turn up, as he strides to the door, twirling his cane like a baton. As he reaches the door, he turns to look at Moira, pushing his hat back on his head at a jaunty angle and says to her in a serious tone, seeming to echo her own, despite the playful twinkle in his eye. "I shall see you in the morning for my examination, then Dr. MacTaggert." He pauses to wink roguishly (a description that would seem so completely inapplicable to Xavier), "Unless you'll be coming to my bed later this evening." He pauses letting the blushes rise before continuing, "... to drag me down for an examination, that is."
Xavier gives a last wave before stepping through the
door, "Ta!"
Charles Xavier. Winking Roguishly. Flirting even. Because Jean's mind will at least admit that
that strange behavior from her mentor might possibly qualify as such. If she doesn't think too
hard. Because
that way doth madness lie.
Deciding that the water isn't quite enough, Jean makes her stealthy way
over to the cereal cabinets, liberating a half-finished bottle of Canadian rye
whisky and making her retreat upstairs, murmuring something like "Doesn't
-think- like Mystique..."
Moira lingers a bit before moving away back to the door herself, brandishing her clipboard at the departing McCoy
like a whip. "Ye better be seein' someone soon,
*Dr.* McCoy," she starts in with an emphasis to his title, " and mind my *prescription*, aye? I'll well find oot
if ye dinnae!"
An added *tsk* means business, for it is no
easy task to escape the clutches of the Scottish physician. Her eyes watch Xavier's unusual bit of joie
de vive with as much amusement as curiosity; before there was the austere
Professor Xavier, there was the mysterious American Charles. Even still... his exit simply leaves the
Scotswoman alone in the kitchen to mutter to herself, "... ta?"
Beast calls back to Moira, as he quickly dashes out of
sight, heading up to his workshop to go back to his lovely work. "I'll
try. Far to busy. Must have everything
in tip top shape for Professor Xavier." In other words, you'll have
to drag him kicking and screaming out on the town. So Moira and Jean will have
to plot together.
*fin*