Kitchen X-Invasion

August 17, 2014:

The X-Men kitchen gets a lively gathering of X-Men and X-Affiliates.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

"Why you do this?" Gambit questions Storm from across the Danger Room. "You know Remy not a fan of the cold." The blasted frozen landscape is jagged, a furry creature lies by the rogue's feet, smoldering, apparently it had taken a few explosive playing cards to the chest. "Where dis? Himalayas? I pick room next time. You do dis kinda thing on purpose… you know Remy woulda picked a beach an' made you in a bikini so you go full on opposite." A grin and he dodges a thrown ice boulder, tumbling and then springing to his feet. More snow monsters on the horizon, thundering down a slope towards the two of them.

Storm's subtle smile hints at her amusement. Up in the air, she casts a wind against the approaching yeti to slow them down. "But of course, my friend. If we never go outside our boundaries of comfort, we will never learn." Is she teasing him? Remy knows her dry wit well enough by now to know that she is. She raises a hand, casting it down to strike one of the burly beasts with a fork of lightning that shines off the snow like a short lived sun.

"Boundaries of comfort? Dat sounds no fun at all." The Cajun says, his teeth chattering as a gob of snow has found its way in to his jacket. It's not real but the Danger Room sure has a way of making one think and feel like it's real, especially if you let your defenses down. The lightning strike 'smites' the beast where it stands. You can even smell the singed hair!

"Look out!" Remy shouts before leaping in to the air and using his staff like a supercharged bat, knocking a thrown ice clot out alignment in it's path for Storm's backside.

"I told you we had some visitors yesterday, no? I let Sharls know. He makin' a house call on dem."

Allowing the wind to pick up around her, the ice clod that was deflected by Remy is caught up in the whirlwind only to be cast back at the approaching foes. "Always good to know you have my back, my friend," she says in those rich tones that manage to be heard over her wind.

One of the yeti starts to rush towards the Cajun, closing the distance to try and use its mass against him, roaring like the monster that he is. Even knowing it's an illusion doesn't seem to dispel how real it looks as it barrels towards Remy.

"I heard, yes. A couple with a shape-shifter who is also magically inclined. You also mentioned that they don't like the thought of her boarding here. Did she only just manifest?" Yes, Ororo is talking while fighting. Sometimes, while wearing more then one hat, it is necessary to wear one while also wearing the other.

"Remy always be watchin' dat backside, 'Roro." The man teases, "No idea, chere." They might have, Remy's focus is that of a gnat. The Yeti is vaulted over and struck in the neck and back of knees with the staff before the scoundrel is swiftly moving out of range again, a few more cards discarded to leave an explosive trail behind him that the Abominable Snowman will be engulfed in.

"I tink Sharles or Betsy be meetin' wid dem. I am sure you get to meet their bebette in good time. I know how excited you get about new students."

"Mine and every other females within a mile radius," Storm retorts, her tone calm and flat. Sweeping an arm to the side, a stronger blast of wind blasts one of the yeti, to be thrown aside and struck off the mountainside to fall to it's doom. One more down, another… well, the Danger Room will keep going until they say stop.

"I have every confidence in Betsy. She has more potential as a leader then she believes."

Hours later…

For the past few days, the weather has been wonderful; a little on the cooler side, but the sun has been shining throughout. Today, finally, rain clouds are making an appearance, the chill mixing with a touch of humidity. It'll rain, but it's one of those overcast days when it's not yet fully decided -when-.

The weather doesn't stop most people, however, from going outside and making the most of what is left of the summer. At Xavier's, some of the residents spend their time out of doors in both 'usual' ways and the 'un-'. After all, they are 'gifted', and here is one of those places where those talents and gifts shine.

There are people who say that being a telepath is 'cheating'. It is a gift among many that are granted, and while some rely heavily upon it, there are others that still prefer the 'old fashioned' method of communication. Face to face. Nathan Summers is one of those people; most of the time. Okay, some of the time. But when it comes to speaking to his old mentor, face to face works. (That's not to say that most of the discussion is telepathic, mind.)

And so, when the brief face to face is done, Nate can actually -cheat- again with a teleportion, or he can take the stairs like other 'normal' people. Today is one of those 'normal' sorts of days, apparently.

Coming down the grand staircase to the entry, the large, half-metallic mutant does get the occasional stare; but it's not a hostile one. Which is rather refreshing.

the Danger Room scenario of Storm and Gambit vs the Abominable Snowmen in the Himalayan Mountains ceases; the two are exhausted and now back in the manor away from the hidden sub-base of the X-Men Facility.

"Dem moves still good, 'Roro." Remy teases as he walks behind her, toweling his head and shoulders off.

"I thought maybe wid'out Remy around you be gettin' lazy like. Not so true, huh?" The man is half-in 'costume' the top portion has been peeled down to just his hips; torso bare and that criss-crossing of scar-work obvious along his sinewy lean upper body. It's a weekend and schools about to begin again, most the Institute kids are off visiting their families before things fire off again.

It's a slow start for at least one person within the building. The usual vibrant energy which follows Talia has yet to make an appearance today, hidden so well that it's like she's not physically here. Even the Bamfs have been keeping a healthy distance since she finally crawled out of bed, completely in a daze while she hung upside down within the shower for a longer than usual length of time. Once out of the room she drifts from one shadow to the next as she makes her way into the kitchen, making a point of avoiding interaction should any present itself. She is ninja, there is no indigo demon to see here.

She even goes so far as to hunker down on top of the refrigerator while waiting on the tea kettle to warm, curled like a giant cat complete with a heavy gaze that stares out vacantly across the room. It might appear that she had partied a little too hard last night, maybe hung over and feeling cruddy from another three in the morning concert.

Telepaths would know otherwise.

The front door of the manse flies open.

Two large parcels of luggage there after.

And then a Betsy. She wasn't flying, she was walking and talking on the phone, not something that was unusual, but she was prone to take random trips that suited her fancy without telling anyone where she was going or what she was doing. Freedom, it has it's costs.

"What -do- you mean you couldn't make the transaction?" *Kerthunk!* Luggage is kicked across the floor and away from the doors that needed closing.

"Well I don't give a good *BEEP* if you were sleeping or not. Get your *BEEP* up and do as I say, or I will *BEEP* fire you and *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEEEEEEP*. Do you understand, you *BEEPPITYBEEPBEEEEEEP*?" *CLICK* With that sort of business out of the way, Betsy finally tucks her phone away into the back pocket of her jeans, only turning to be faced with the sight of the larger mutant who descends the staircase. "Woah.. woah?" Nice.

Storm, as she prefers to be called when she is in her leathers, is smirking. Remy is one of the few people that makes it hard for Storm to keep her emotions as carefully tamped down as she should. And of course, the weather is showing Storm's lack of control. She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at Remy's flirting. She's used to it by now, but it never stops being amusing.

"Well, without you around, my friend, I had to work harder. I did not have you covering my back, after all. Though it is hard to see how you can cover it when you are so busy looking at it."

To a telepath, emotions are signal flares that light a night's sky. It's one of the first things taught to counter a telepath; how not to gain the attention of one. And emotions are certainly riding high, which makes it all the more reason to get those shields in place. Though, he can't help but smile at the grand entrance, hearing all those *BEEPS* for what they actually are.

"Good trip, then?" is asked as Nate touches the final step in the staircase. "You know you would definitely catch more with honey than vinegar…" As he says it though, there's something of a question mark that shows upon his face. "That's right… right?" Some phrasing is still just a little beyond him and sometimes he does get it wrong, much to the amusement of certain others.

Talia's storm cloud doesn't escape the large mutant's notice, and his gaze turns in that particular direction, a frown flickering across his face.

The other pair, Remy and Storm, aren't quite -seen- yet, their 'voices' a light banter in his head as far as emotions go. No flags, and they're given a nod. "Morning."

"It is a gift, mon cher. Dat backside be like cunja. A spell… no man jus' keep eyes away from such thing. " Gambit replies as the towel settles down around his shoulders only to turn the corner down the long hall a passing glance given to Betsy who is apparently talking to a voice at the top of the stairwell, almost nosy but more hungry than curious he offers a wave at his fellow blue team member before vanishing in to the rather immense kitchen. Plus she has luggage! Remy doesn't want to help put that away. Best to pretend much more busy elsewhere. He's not yet noticed Talia.

Commotion like that in an otherwise fairly quiet building is going to get overheard. It's enough to lure Talia out of her semi-tranced state, silently crawling down from the fridge then abandoning the kettle as she drifts toward the front entrance. Ducking through the shadows isn't quite so easy with all of the windows along the way but she is a tricky one, habitually taking to the ceiling as though imitating a xenomorph as it stalks its next victim.

Or in this case just crawling close enough to see what all of the commotion is about.

Maybe it's not quite early morning anymore (or a long way from, as the clocks might all suggest,) but isn't it a little soon for breaking out the vulgarities? She usually saves that for when there's a mic in hand!

The timing works out well that she just misses anyone else stepping into the kitchen, though Remy would know about that tea kettle soon enough. They're not the most subtle of things once the steam builds up.

Heading into the kitchen, Storm goes to pour herself a coffee and get her emotions in check. The children would be so upset if the last few weeks of summer were to be stormy. No pun intended. "It was a very good workout though, Remy. I promise that next time we can do your beach scenario. I do not think that I will wear the bikini though, no matter how much you may try to coax me."

Looking up from pouring her coffee, Ororo notices Talia curled up on top of the fridge. It doesn't take a telepath to know that perhaps she isn't feeling her best. "Up late last night, dear Talia? Was it a good performance at least?"

"My trips are usually good. And quick. Never stay in one place too long, especially if you're visiting. And unless it's home." Her hand flourishes a little, which soon drops to snare up the luggage to bring it close to her, not out of wariness, but for the fear that someone may trip and fall.

Aside from his shocking appearance however, Cable gets a right stare as he tries to figure out the saying that probably would have been lost on her if she hadn't spent a little time with Remy and the others. "I don't think that's right. Y'see, you 'ave to have an insect interjected, like a fly or a bee. Or maybe a mosquito, but then you'd have to have blood in the mix and then I think the novelty of the saying will wear off, don't you think?"

What a nutter.

"Elizabeth. Or Betsy if you.." She didn't finish her sentence, but she does hold out her hand to glance towards the kitchen proper. She didn't pry at the minds that lingered there, she just set herself out feel who was, and just knowing made her relax all the more. Yep, she was home. "Sorry, Betsy if you will."

It would be rude of him to tk the bags out of the way; not his. Still, with that final step, he extends a natural-looking paw of a hand. (The metallic is the left!). "Nathan." Once the introduction is settled, brows rise, "Need help with those?" To underscore the offer, a potted plant near the door begins to rise gently and shifts to the right, only to settle gently down once again. "Promise. Won't break anything."

The explanation regarding the insect side of things only truly serves to confuse Nathan a little more, particularly when it's not accompanied by that touch of mind. (He's being polite.) And here is why being a telepath helps. "I just thought… I mean, I was taught…" Shaking his head quickly, he finishes up, "Never mind."

Storm and Remy's passing towards the kitchen gives the large mutant a thought, and with a gesture, "Kitchen… I haven't had anything yet. I can help with those, or bring them along or… if you don't have a way to get them up the stairs right now?" That path'll help get him a little closer to the little blue, fuzzy mutant crawling across the ceiling.

"She quick." Remy comments as the kettle begins to steam and he moves it off the burner. Kitchen staff isn't around. He knows they have a couple hands around here but like the students they're off taking a vacation before things get crazy.
"'Roro, bebelle, Remy will get you in a bikini one o' des days. It a challenge now. Dis Gumbo is always up for a good challenge." The talking beyond has him looking off that direction as he slides /his/ empty coffee mug over towards Storm. It's his because it's the one he always uses and it was a gift, it says 'Bored Now…' along the side of it. Not hard to miss.
Darned Xavier's and having really good natural lighting… Talia had certainly planned on ducking out to see what the commotion out front is all about but she gets clocked before making it that far. Fortunately, she's also quick. Nope, nothing to see here! Just a figment of the imagination. Then again, the others are approaching the kitchen now, too. Without a concerted effort being made she's rather effectively cornered within the kitchen area.

And the water's ready. Aw, heck. It's impossible to stay hidden around a place like this forever.

Quietly slinking back into the kitchen, still stuck to the area overhead, she brushes an errant cobweb out of the way while answering Storm with a noncommittal "Kinda." Even in the one word of response there's nothing hoarse in her voice, nothing that would suggest she had to yell over a room full of drunken idiots for a handful of hours.

Back over to the stove she goes, retrieving the kettle as a bead of water from her earlier shower drips down and hits the burner with a brief hiss. -Then- she finally comprehends the half metallic monster of a mutant in the room, something which has her stopping and staring with the kettle hovering within her one hand.

They grow 'em big around here.

Betsy fits her hand into his, then quickly releases. With a glance to her bags, she offers up a shrug of her shoulders. "If you please. I was going to take them into the laundry, but I suppose that could wait until later."

Nothing his confusion, she purses her lips in thought, then explains just a little further with only one sentence. "I believe the saying goes, 'You catch more flies with honey.' Nothing more, nothing less. The interpretation does the rest for itself." The mention of the kitchen gets a slight nod, "I am feeling a bit peckish. I could go for something to eat. And tea. We'll deal with the bags later of course." Not to say that Cable was going to be her new servant boy but hey, the less heavy lifting she had to do, the better.

With nothing more to say in regards, her mind set on food, she turns upon a stilleto to click clack her way towards the kitchen, eyes upon the ceiling to catch the tail end of Blue Talia, espying the rest within the kitchen already making good on their rituals. "Remy, Ororo." A glance upward then down, watching the droplet sizzle for a moment. Scan. Check. Talia. "And Talia. Morning, or afternoon."

Ororo's own mug is a lovely earthenware piece done with tribal African stripes around it in a shock of colours. She reminds herself that she is needing to regain her calm when Talia runs off to the ceiling as she welcomes her. Must have scared the girl off. Storm takes a deep breath to center herself again, getting the cream out of the fridge for the coffee and then pours some for both herself and Remy. "Another busy day at Xavier's. Business as usual then."

The voices in the main foyer get a glance through the archways from the kitchen. Nodding her head in greeting, Ororo then gives an arched brow to Remy. "If you want to see me in a bikini that badly, my friend, just throw a pool party. It is nearly the end of summer, after all. A party is a customary way to end it."

Talia's return causes Storm's soft smile to tug at the corners. Leave it to the elflings to keep the place lively, even with the children gone. She nods her head to Betsy when she walks into the kitchen. "Elizabeth. And company. Have we met?"

Greetings and introductions made, Nathan retrieves his hand only to turn around to watch the bags begin to trundle off to the laundry room. He knows where it is! Of course, it does take a little concentration on his part; a quick telepathic scan akin to 'radar' to be sure no one is in the way of the air-lifted bags. (Stupid mutant tricks?)

As the pair take the corridor to the kitchen, Nate watches the scurry of TJ with some interest; the source of that brief tempest.

Entering the kitchen with Betsy fully now, Nate moves to the side as to not be in too much of the way. Coffee is certainly on his mind, as his gaze will attest. "Tea? I think I hear the kettle.."

Ororo's greeting gains one of his own, and Cable approaches, his paw of a hand outstretched. "Nathan." No last name? "But I think I might have heard about you from Charles? Storm, right?" Remy is given a brow rise; all this talk of bikinis?

"Does this mean there's going to be a party I have to watch for?"
Wait..TJ knows this one. Think, girl..! Thinkthinkthi-"Betsy..!" And..and "Remy," and "'Roro,' and … Yellow eyes narrow to slits as she stares at Cable all over again. "Who the heck are you?" As chance would have it, Nathan Summers is not a person that she's familiar with from any of the other realities she's jumped around to.

Turns out she doesn't have long to wait for an answer, anyway. "Nate… Hey," she then offers in a softer tone while hooking a tail spade around a cupboard in order to retrieve the box of tea lurking within. "You into heavy metal at all?"

That one may actually be an attempt at cracking a joke. Compared to Storm's mug, the solid-hued violet one which she selects falls quite shy of such vibrancy. Still, it gets the job done.

Betsy totally missed the luggage being carried off to the laundry. She'll be in for a rude awakening once she goes to retrieve them. However, a smile goes towards Ororo and a slight nod of her head, along with a verbal agreement of a party to seal the deal before school starts. "That sounds like an excellent idea, Ororo." Though knowing Psy, she'll fly the coop long before hand and will miss it. Such is life.

She steps over towards the cupboard as Talia opens it, reaching up to take a random glass that did not belong to her. If one did, she'd imagine it would contain the british flag, or some sort of butterfly-ish decor, but no, this one is plain. And white.

With a quick step nearer to Talia, Betsy holds out said cup with a wry grin. "Pour us a bit, luv?" Yeah, that heavy metal comment will be laughed at in full later, she doesn't want to be a -solid- bitch to the new guy, she just got home.
Remy's arm lifts and he inhales, "I think I need be gettin' along. It gonna be a thing today go clean up real nice n' den do some productivity-like tings." A grin at the others and he slides that towel off his shoulders snapping 'Roro one on the backside before darting off quickly on his way to his room where he can shower, shave and probably nap before he has to speak with petit diable about the Darkhold then the rest of the team.
Also he'll text message a funny picture to Betsy once he's able. She's going to get a kick. Jokes and stupid memes has become their 'thing' apparently.
Ororo's own hand is dainty, almost regal as she shakes Nathan's own. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Nathan. And my codename is Storm. I prefer Ororo or Ms. Munroe, unless I am on duty." She looks down at herself and sighs. "However, considering my state of dress, it would seem that Storm is an appropriate moniker for me at the moment."

She nods to Betsy in thanks for agreeing that the idea for a party is a good one. "See, Remy. I guess you will just have to organize it as the school's new moral officer." No, that is not his official job, but she does like to tease him with the continuing threat of giving him an official title. She'll make him be responsible one of these days.

Talia is watched with some interest, trying to figure out just what the girl has been up to last night.

She yelps, hopping a bit as she is snapped in the butt by a towel. She glowers over her shoulder at the cajun and he gets a zap of static from the next door knob he touches.

"EEEeeee ouch!" (heard from elsewhere as Remy makes it to his room)


Ororo has found her calm center again and observes the laughter with that air of detachment that is very much her style. Even as her mood becomes more regulated, the weather that was due to her influence is lightened. It's still cloudy and threatening to rain, but at least the Wind Rider now knows it is not her doing. She sips at her coffee, looking Nathan over. "So, you seem familiar with the place. You have been here before? Before my tenure?"

Rivethead industrial? Nate looks dubious, and files that bit away too to ask about later on. Over pizza. Back in the lab. There was just so much, and music styles were never a priority! (English is tricky to begin with.)

Psylocke will find a mind that is locked down. There's nothing there that remotely projects; and it's decidedly deliberate on his part. Big difference between a casual 'blank' and someone who is actively keeping things in and keeping things out. His is the latter.

TJ Wagner has unfurled herself from the ceiling, and with mug in hand, has departed the kitchen for parts unknown in the building. Remy has departed, though a shout of surprise and a hint of pain does ring from the Cajun from without. Now, the kitchen holds only Psylocke, Storm and Nathan; two with tea and one with coffee. (Guess the heathen!)

A shrug lifts half a shoulder and Nathan nods in the question, bringing the steaming mug to his lips. "Off and on. Charles helped me a lot years ago." A ghost of a smile creeps across his face and he continues, "Who hasn't he helped, really? But, the least I could do was help him set up the security systems here, and the beginnings of the computer system." Any who has worked with either knows that they're high-tech- and deliberately so. It does take something of a genius to hack into it; and so far, no one who has tried has been truly successful. And won't be.

"I don't live here, though. Don't teach at the school either."

Looking at the two ladies that remain, Nate's own curiosity rises, "Have you two been here long?"

Tea? It is by now complete, the bag soon removed and dropped into the sink for collection later once the water ran dry. She was still attempting to pry into Nathan's mind, yet if it was one thing a woman can do easily, was multitask. Silently. A quick turn, her back facing the two, she gathers sugar cubes which were deposited into the cup with a low *plop*.

But he was a blank canvas. Even if she tries to heavily pry, she senses that she wouldn't get anything but dead air. Damn. That was impressive.

Letting go with a sigh and a smile, she turns now, cup in hand, lifted towards her lips to take a careful sip to test the temp. "Off and on. But things happen and it's hard to stay away from a place you willingly call your home." A distant smile and another sip is taken, her lips smacking in thought. "Mm, needs more sugar."
Slowly shaking her head, Ororo sips at her coffee. (Yep, she's the heathen) "I know that you do not teach here. I have been here for about 6 years now and would have noticed you on the teaching roster before now. But, any friend of Charles is a friend of ours."

Ororo lets a tug of her lips show her amusement to Betsy's comment about needing more sugar. "But surely you are sweet enough, Elizabeth."

A new set of footsteps approach from the hallway, belonging to Scott Summers. He's walking with a purposeful stride, his back carried with nearly perfect posture, his clothing laundered, clean, and proper. Scott is usually unaware of any reputations that may go before him, but as he comes into the kitchen, aforementioned reputations may come to be quickly confirmed. Dutiful is the manner in which his expression is drawn, easily split between a tablet in his hand and where his feet are going, and his footsteps are evenly paced and without breaking tempo.

That is, until, he hears voices. Slowing, he looks up from the tablet and quietly inspects those who have gathered. It's unclear exactly who he's looking at and when, thanks in part to the ruby-quartz lenses that conceal his eyes, but he does tarry longer upon each face than one might usually expect. Inspecting them, filing through his memory to recall just who they are, and tactfully lingering his eyes upon each one with what may seem like equal turns.

"Ororo," he says, greeting the most familiar one first. "Good morning." Lowering the tablet, he offers Storm a small smile, before glancing Betsy's way. "You must be Elizabeth." He's read her dossier, even if they haven't met. A hand is outstretched to her in greeting. "Scott Summers."

Polite, yet guarded.

The man's head finally swivels toward Nathan, and he offers forth a simple nod. "Good morning."

If Nathan 'felt' any of the prying, he doesn't let on outwardly. There is a touch of a telepathic 'bump'; an identifier, however. Like to like.

"Did you want some honey with that? I knew… a rabid tea drinker and the sweetness of honey usually changed the tea just enough without adding more sugar cubes. Sort of the .. quarter teaspoon." And lemon. And milk. The Scots do like their tea.

Cable can't and won't go so far as Storm in terms of 'sweetness' of Betsy. Doesn't know her well enough and, well, social graces being what they are (he's not used to moments like these!), it doesn't even begin to occur to the big lug.

"Six years?" Has he been away that long? Surely not. "In that time, I've been here and gone a few times. I come when I need help, and when he needs help." Charles Xavier needing help? On why and how, Nate's not telling. He ends up chuckling and looking down at the mug and the hand that holds it. "I'd say more often, I need him." Which is part of the reason why he's here today, as a matter of fact!

"I need his help getting something back that was taken from me."

Scott's approach is, well… either well or ill timed, depending upon the moment. He's got his cup to his lips, and almost burns himself when he sees the man. Setting the jostled cup to the side and safely on a counter, it honestly takes a moment to school himself. While he knew of the possibility, one never truly is ready for the eventuality. A nod is given to the man in return and offers a response, "Good morning." He knows he's not in that dossier. He's been -careful-.

Elizabeth lets out a slight sigh, her cup placed upon the counter top as that irksome gaze floats towards Ororo. It was about to go down. "Listen. You're about to make me let go of my better judgement and the need to not touch people right about now to give you the most biggest, tightest, hug ever. Now stop it." A grin was soon cracked, and she turns and tends to her coffee, adding in two cubes instead of one. Goodness, Betsy knows that Ororo could draw out the best in her and often avoids her just for that fact.

Another mind nears, and taking up the mantle of politeness that Nathan possesses, she doesn't bother to pry, besides, she was more worried about the drink that was now in her hand which was sipped to test Betsy's own version of perfection. And indeed it was.

The mind has soon made himself known by standing in the doorway, Elizabeth's eyes cutting towards him to squint and examine, brows soon lifting as realization sets in yet she does not present herself by straightening up from the lean she gives to the counter top. A nod is given, hand moving from its idle space to take a quick grab, shake and release, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Scott Summers. So good to finally meet you."

She turns slightly towards Nathan now, her brows wrinkling just a touch as he speaks of honey, her head shaking almost immediately. "Too late. Add honey into this bit now and I'll have a case of diabetes in no time." And then, his reaction to Scott. However mild it was, Betsy notices, and it was not and possibly will not be mentioned again. Unless she was feeling mean.

Ororo greets Scott with that subtle smile of hers over her coffee mug. Holding it in both hands, she dips her head to him slowly before taking a sip. "Good morning, Scott. It is a pleasure to see you once again. Getting your study plan ready for the coming school year?" She lifts her mug towards Scott. "Would you like a cup, Scott?"

Her head tilts to regard Nathan. "Yes, Charles has always been quite open to the fact that though he is very intelligent, he is not capable of doing everything. He knows his limitations and is not afraid to ask for help. This alone makes him a rare sort of person.

Betsy is given a respectful nod. "I am sorry, Elizabeth. I forgot my manners. I shall refrain from causing you to do such shameful things as to hug me." While the tone of her voice is calm and steady, almost droll, it's the crinkling around her eyes, or the subtle way the corners of her lips tug as she goes to sip at her coffee. The weather witch always did have a very dry sense of humor.

Elizabeth earns a friendly smile from Scott — which might do something to disrupt whatever vicious rumors might be floating out there about him — and answers, "The pleasure's all mine." He breaks presumed eye contact long enough to ask, "Where's this delicious coffee I'm smell…"

Words trail off at Cable's reaction. Sometimes, Scott's glasses are a real blessing. Such as when he'd rather someone not see the look in his eyes. What can't be concealed is the way his brows rise upward. "Maybe I shouldn't have the coffee," he remarks. Sure, Cable may have tea, but everything Scott sees is tinted that same ruby color. It makes it difficult at best. "Scott Summers," he offers, extending that same measure of politeness to Cable in the form of a handshake.

Once the introductions are made, Scott turns to go and look for that coffee, after all. "Hmm?" he asks, turning to Ororo, and breaking in his search for just a moment. "Oh, you don't have to do that." He smiles, perhaps not realizing that he's being a bit of a jerk by turning down her offer. "I can manage." Turning again, he goes to prepare himself a mug. "Well. the study plan is quite well done. What I'm doing now is meeting with the new students, in their homes. At least as many of them that I can. It's a lot of travel, and I have to be honest, I can't wait until it's finished. But… it's important."

He speaks of his teaching with such a sense of heartfelt dedication. Scott may be an enigma to many of them, but one thing is for certain. He cares about those students, perhaps even more than he cares for himself.

Nate looks at Betsy for a long moment, his head tilting slightly. The need to not touch people right about now? Well, it is true. Accidental readings can happen a lot. There are times when he fully believes that gloves are a gift from heaven, and other times? A curse. He doesn't wear them. Too nosy.

"And he's quite generous. Sometimes, to a fault."

Storm's quip brings a smile to Nathan's face; the teasing of a telepath. Simply reminds him that while he's in the closest thing he's got to 'home', he's still so very far away. Years and years. And the appearance of a youthful Scott only sends that crashing home.

It's Scott's introduction that brings the large mutant back around, and he wipes his hand on his cargo-pants before extending. "Nathan." Beat. "Dayspring." Summers. Hi, dad. Of course, it's not said. "Yeah," Nate adds once the greeting and introductions are completed. "It is. I.. uh.. heard that you were pretty good about that. Every kid gets your personal attention. And it works."

"I appreciate it, my darling." Betsy coos, she wasn't being a smart ass in the least, but she understands Ororo's dry wit and humor completely. They were -almost- the same in that regard. The friendly smile from Scott did take her back just a touch, and it was returned equally with the same friendliness that she could muster. Things were calm, and it was alright with Betsy, but she does move out of the way to stand and lean closer to Ororo so that Scott could get his drink if he so wishes.

"How are you traveling Scott? I'm sure Kurt would be of great use to you, plus, the job would get done quicker and soon enough you'll be back to.."

Stop Betsy. Don't say it. Shut. Up.

"Teaching.." She coughs just a little to sip her coffee, keen on watching the interactions of the three. Aside from her first time meeting Nathan and Scott, she doesn't believe she has been ever in the same room with -the- most up-ti..

Putting down her own African tribal earthenware mug, Ororo notes that she isn't going to be getting Scott a coffee after all. "I know I am not required to, Scott. I offered because it is kind to do so." She shakes her head and gives a soft sigh. The two are determined to out polite each other, it would seem. Again. As Scott talks about the students, Ororo lets a true smile escape, her fondness for the children of Xavier's a well known fact for any that have been around for a while.

"We do our best to make certain that every student realizes that they are special, not just because of their powers but because of themselves. That they are not just their powers but a whole, complete person. So yes, talking with them individually is very important."

Picking up her mug again, she arches her brows as Betsy starts to tease Scott. Oh, she knows that look. That's the 'Ororo, great mother of the world giving the naughty children the look' look. "

"Nathan. I've always liked that name." Blissful ignorance, another of Scott's blessings. "Well, a friend to Charles is a friend to me," he offers while finishing up his coffee. A small amount of cream, no sugar. "If there's anything you need while you're here, just ask."

Elizabeth's suggestion is answered without missing a beat. "I've thought about it. But many of these students are just coming to understand their gifts, and their families are a whole other obstacle." Just imagine; white bred American family on the outskirts of Indianapolis, when *bamf*! He turns back to face her, smirking. "Besides." Scott's nose curls. "I've heard it's smelly."

For a moment longer, Scott stares at Elizabeth. It's that look. Congratulations, Bets, you've earned it on day one. Teasing? Right over the dude's head.

A bit of heat crawls up the back of Scott's next. Perhaps he's actually realizing that he was rude to Ororo? He turns toward her, silent for a few moments, but then he opens his mouth and… "You're right. And it's very important that they understand that."

Scott sips from his coffee, ignorant still to his sometimes standoffish nature.

"I've pretty much got all I need, thanks. Charles told me that whenever I needed, I can pull out a couch." And a full lab. "I've taken him up on it a couple of times, and I appreciate it." Nate looks to them, "So, if you catch me on the couch in the atrium, please don't poke me?" That might actually be an attempt at humor?

The cup, the one set aside, is retaken and set in the sink to be washed. "I know I'll be around, but in case I don't see you three together, good luck on the beginning of the year. It'll be a good one, I'm sure." Nothing on the 'radar' in terms of anything that'll change the course of history that he can see. "Call me optimistic."

Now, Nathan turns about. He knows his way out, and begins. "A pleasure to meet you all. Ororo, Betsy and Sc—" He hesitates a moment before he restarts the last, "Scott."

As soon as she settles, Betsy was getting the death glare of all mothers from Ororo. A sudden look of shame creeped into her features, it causes moderately pale/tan skin to blush wickedly, eyes soon adverted towards her cup. A quick look up and Scott was staring in her direction as well, -both- of those stares made her skin crawl with the need to retreat. But she doesn't, she was going to grin and bear it.

It took her a moment to finally address Scott's concerns about teleportation, her head tilting, brows lowering faintly as she tries to imagine, her head shaking just a little. "I'm sure Kurt has enough sense to at least teleport -near- to the homes, not -inside- of them. Maybe around the corner, on a roof top, but not right upon the dinner table." This is where Betsy would usually swear, however, she keeps it cool. Though, she has to admit, she'd never think about smelling Kurts dust before, which made Scotts comment a wee bit creepy. Keep it to yourself, Bets.

Cable's leaving broke the awkwardness that Betsy felt, she finally stood from her spot to offer up a quick wave and a smile with his well wishes. "See you soon, Nathan!"

As Betsy gets a look that says she feels suitably shamed for teasing Scott, Ororo goes back to that demure smile of hers and leans in against Psylocke. On no! Touchy!! "You are the head of Blue Team, I hear. Congratulations."

Attention diverted again toward Nathan, Scott keeps staring a moment or so longer. The man earns a nod of acknowledgement on his way out, but once he's gone, Scott shakes his head a bit. "Strange fellow," he remarks. Needless to say, Scott is definitely intrigued by this Dayspring fellow, but he's completely aloof as to why.

"You know…" He turns back to Elizabeth and says, "You're probably right. He probably doesn't teleport in the same manner with which I tend to drive." Is Scott trying to exhibit some sense of humor? Is he?? Perhaps. If that's the case, he's not to terribly good at transmitting it effectively. He does tend to be a fast driver, but he'd be the first to claim that at least it isn't reckless driving. "Sometimes I think these parents would deserve a good scare like that, but… then I remember my good senses."

Ororo's mention of Blue Team has his eyebrows perking up again. It's safe to speak about it now, of course, but his volume drops nonetheless. "That's a hefty order." He sets the mug down and folds his arms, inspecting Elizabeth with scrutiny. "You think you could use another member?"

Now, this is what we call 'on the spot'. Ball's in your court, Psylocke.

Betsy takes Ororo's lean as if she werent in trouble, and allowed it because they were friends after all. So it was welcomed with a brief hug and a scrunch of the nose with the mentioning of the Blue Team. "Ugh." Is all she said upon that, though Scott's joking manner was met with a blank stare and a.. all too British.. "Wot?"

Oh! Crazy driver. Right. The kids and their talks, one of them claimed that -Scott- was the one who broke the garage door by slamming right into it at full speed, and parking his broken bike as if it suffered no damage at all. But of course, Betsy knew that it was a tall tale.

"It is a hefty order. Yes." She sips her tea, quite finished, cup deposited. There was a pregnant pause in thought, her gaze searching any facial expressions that Scott would seem to give off after he asks to join -his- own team. Should she even do it? Should she offer to fight him for it or just be lazy and give it up as intended? Ayup.

"I tell you what Mr. Scott Summers. Lets put it to a wager. You beat me, and you can join. You beat me while beating everyone else, you can have full leadership of the team." She was talking pure chaos. Danger room settings on high, villains galore, and Psylocke. She will not take no for an answer. "7am. Danger room."

Scott remains absolutely stoic, hiding the smirk from his face and leaving it to his well concealed eyes. He sits on his answer for a very long time, perhaps in an effort to make her uncomfortable. A worthless gesture, most likely. As the offer is made, he chews up some time recalling everything he knows from Psylocke's file.

He works very hard to succeed in not letting a nervous sigh escape.

"You're on," he answers, and moves to set the mug in its rightful place for cleaning. "7 am."

Scott turns to depart, but before he's gone, he glances back over his shoulder. A sly grin spreads upon his lips and he quips, "Don't be late."

We suppose that family meeting plans can be postponed in favor of some martial arts training. After all, Scott Summers doesn't like to be beaten.

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