Breakfast Confessional

January 14, 2019:

A brunch at Xavier's Mansion allows Logan and Selina to have a heart-to-heart.

Xavier Institute

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

*

Early morning at Xavier's and it comes to life with the breaking of dawn. Even for the students there at such an early time there are plenty of children and some of the teachers that head out at first light to exercise, to run a few laps, to even practice in the Danger Room far below the mansion proper.
Then a few hours later and some of the other residents awaken, mopily, sleepily, moving about the cafeteria to gather some of the cereal, to slumph off towards the family rooms or the entertainment areas to turn on the television and watch what is offered at this hour.
Another hour and most of the people are up and functioning, breakfast is in full swing, there's the sound of laughter and happiness as the students greet each other and tell them about their night before or what happened between one student or another.
But it's the next two hours when things start to quiet down, when people settle in for their plans for the day, just before noon and lunchtime. Some of the youths are studying, others are out or planning a trip. Some are even enjoying the first hints of snow outside since it's the first time a few of them have ever seen it.
hat is the time when finally, Logan descends down the faculty stairwell, an old wrought iron twisting stairs that is left over from when the faculty quarters were considered the servants' quarters. With a jangle of metal against metal, he hops down and then rests a hand against it for Selina to descend. "Coast is clear." He offers, a slight smirk on his lips. The kitchen is empty, but the smell of fresh made bacon and toast is still in the air.

*

"Embarrassed of me?" The woman asks, moving down the steps with a silent grace, wearing the fresh attire of an old t-shirt, grey and marked with a 'X inside a circle. It drapes low, covering her like a dress might, and though her legs are on display, there was a promise she'd bein some type of sorts. Children were about, after all. In sock feet, she lowers down, settling on the bottom floor and offering the Canadian a smile.

She sniffs, her brow quirking. "Oh, liar. You said /you'd/ make me breakfast, didn't you? Looks like someone beat you to it."

*

"Hey!" Logan says sharply as he eyes her sidelong, but his smile might rob the sting from the sharp verbal check. "I am totally cooking you breakfast." He points at her as he continues to walk around the kitchen, his own socks making not a sound on the tile floor as he walks. For his part he's wearing a white sleeveless t-shirt that's covered in part with a red and black flannel overshirt. Blue jeans cover his legs though he's not wearing a belt at the moment.
"Just other folks already cooked some. Lotsa folks livin' in these digs." His smirk is wry as he looks over the place and strolls across that large kitchen, reaching the double-doored fridge and yanking one side open as he starts to dig around inside.

*

"I can tell. I can hear them." She nods, looking around as they move, taking in the location now that they were dealing with a lit area. Once in the kitchen, she finds a counter to sit on, jumping up and plopping down without hesitation or much effort. Her legs cross at the ankles, swinging idly as her gaze traces after him. "It's a nice place. Can't say part of me hates it for being so nice, but…if you think your people can help some of the kids in Gotham, at least I can say it's worth while."

*

"Ehn, the guy who owns it…" Logan says as he emerges from the fridge holding a sleeve of bacon and a carton of eggs. He carries them over towards the stovetop and sets them on the counter beside it, smiling wryly at her sidelong as he goes about prepwork. "He grew up here, was onea the first folks who had to deal with the whole mutant thing."
To the pantry he walks, the kitchen island now between them as he steps up to it and pulls open the large door, peering inside. "Has sorta focused his life on tryin' ta make a difference for kids goin' through the same thing." A loaf of bread is taken down and he digs into it, pulling out a few slices and then twisting the twist-tie back into place before tossing the loaf back in the pantry.
"So, yeah. He's a bit of a stiff. But he's a good guy." That Charles Xavier.

*

"I never grew up with money." She tells him, ever careful of where he moves, how, what he gets and brings back. "Never grew up with anything nice. You survive and that's that. I don't want all those kids to have to do that, what I had to do. I try, but there's always another." Her thumbs brush along the edge of the counter, her teeth settle and worry against her lower lip. "Anyway, how do I do this? How do I get them in here?"

*

There's a furrow to Logan's brow as he considers and he looks down, but then sidelong towards Selina. "The Professor is dealing with some health issues. So I can't go to him with a lead. But we've got some other people who spearhead these things. I'll talk to one of them, give them your number and we'll swing by wherever you choose to meet and talk to them."
The large sixteen slot toaster has four of those slots filled as Logan pushes the button down to get those browning. Then he moves back towards the stovetop that'd been warming and reaches up to unhook one of the cast-iron skillets from the kitchen island. Turning back.
"We got a good bit of room so there shouldn't be a hard time finding them a place. It depends though on how at risk they are, how their parents feel about it if we can find 'em. All sorts of things."
There's a hiss as he sprays the skillet with a bit of oil, then puts it on the warm stovetop.

*

"Whatever you need to do. He's a good kid. He doesn't deserve being pointed at and launghed at. Nor does he deserve being treated like one of the rogues just because he looks different." She murmurs, crossing her legs smoothly, one another the other. "He doesn't have parents," she begins. "I don't know what all he can do, but I know what he's shown me. He's burned through some clothes before. Some bedding and blankets. Replacing them isn't a hassle, but I'd rather he understand what's happening." A pause, "I don't want him to be so afraid of himself."

*

Lifting a hand, Logan looks sidelong at her as he seems to give that some thought even as he holds the other hand over the skillet, testing the heat. "Well, I can go talk to him." He says as he turns his gaze back and away, "Just sometimes I frighten kids." Which is true. But also sometimes… well he gets along with them.
"Might be best if you broach the topic with him, and then one of us shows up to let him know what's down." As he says that he seems to become satisfied as to the state of the skillet and then adds the strips of bacon, letting them sizzle for now

*

"You're not scary." She tells him flat out. "Not to kids from Gotham, anyway." She winks playfully. "I'll talk to him, see what he thinks for sure. I know some other kids, but he, well, he's the worst off from what I've seen. I don't want to have a massive influx of kids heading your way just because you're being nice. I know it takes a lot to look after them. I can help fund them, if you need it." Her higher foot bobs gently, her eyes glancing from the food, to his face and back again. "Hey," she starts again. "Why are you here?"

*

"Ta make you breakfast, woman, whatchoo think?" He says that with a wry smile on his face, mock indignation affecting that tone a bit but he holds up a hand as if to try and endure her objection since well… she probably meant something else entirely.
He does take his time, however, cracking the eggs and adding them to the skillet breakfast, letting them get a good sizzle and then pushing them around with the spatula to scramble them. Some salt and pepper is added as he gets that going decently.
"But I get the vibe you mean somethin' else?" He asks her with one eye quirked, then turns his attention back to the pan.

*

"Well, yeah. The way you act and the way you were talking at the bar," she offers, pulling her legs up and hugging her knees against her chest. "You…and your mistakes. You're here, though. Looking after rugrats. Making a girl breakfast. Talking about taking in more kids…Why are you here, James? Out of all the places in the world for someone like you to be, you're here."

*

She delves and he looks a little uncomfortable, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he continues to shimmy the spatula around the skillet. It doesn't take long all told, but he makes sure of the taste by sampling a little bite from a strip of bacon.
"It's a long story, Selina." He takes up the skillet and then reaches over to the cabinet, grabbing a pair of plates out of it and setting them down. Then with the spatula he pushes equal shares of egg and bacons onto the plates, setting the skillet aside and then turning off the stove top. "And it'll take some tellin'. At the end of it ya might figure this whole place is a bit too loopy for you to deal with." He says that matter of factly, as if something similar had happened before.

*

"You don't have to tell me anything." She offers, reaching over when he goes about gathering plates just long enough to touch his arm. "You don't want to tell it, you don't have to. I'm just…too curious for my good most of the time." Pulling away, she hugs to her legs once more, waiting for him to say when it was all good and ready. "Hey, don't worry about it." She decides then, resting her legs down and slipping off the counter's edge. "If you can help the kids I know, that's all I need, really."

*

"Oh reverse psychology, clever." The smirk on Logan's features is warm, at least warmer than usual. Chances are if one of the faculty showed up and saw him they might wonder who the hell he was. But for now he takes up the plates and walks over towards her, setting both down in front of her and then pulling open a drawer just under her legs and taking out some forks. Each of them clatter on their respective plates then he asks, "What are you drinkin?"
For himself he gets some orange juice in a tall glass. There's a pot of coffee already made that might fit her taste if she's inclined. But once that's taken care of he heads back and hops up onto the counter beside her. "But I used ta be a not so nice fella. And the people I knew were worse."

*

"Coffee, please. Cream and sugar." She requests before accepting her plate. All taken care of, she shifts a bit on the counter, folding her legs in and using the bowl of her lap as a table. Starting in on the bacon, she settles her attention on his face. Drinking, chewing - the breakfast was secondary. "Work related?" She asks casually.

*

For a time he sort of pushes his eggs around, scowling to himself. It's never easy to start this story that only a few years ago did he really fully come to grips with it all. Where to start? How far back? The whole age thing might be worthy of a flip out. But then there are other aspects of his past.
"Alright, so I wasn't entirely honest with you about my mutation." He tells her. "When I was young, I learned the hard way that I had ta try and watch my temper. Since I had the senses of…" He lifts his chin and gestures towards the woods far off behind the mansion and beyond the window in that kitchen. "Somethin' wild. But I sorta had the anger too, and my body resembled it too in some ways."

*

Catwoman doesn't stop her eating. She chews, slower, but still destroys the bacon on her plate. The eggs and toast were next. Her eyes find him, watching where he points, following the story. There is, however, no sigh of judgement coming from the woman. No tension, no waiting for the other shoe to drop type of foreboding. She simply listens, and attentively at that.

*

He exhales again, as if grumbling but he takes a bite of his bacon and chews for a bit before she gets a few more words from him. "Combine that with this sort of other aspect where I can survive most anythin' that's thrown at me, and they had the makings for a good soldier. So that's how I spent…" He nods for a time, "A good chunk of my life. Fightin. Killin. Don't think you woulda cared for the man I was back then."
He takes a sip from his orange juice and swallows, moistening his lips briefly then goes on. "Was good at it. The best to some. Course around about that time a lot of governments were doin' some shady things with regards to mutants. I volunteered since at that point in my life, why the fuck not?"

*

"James," she stops him softly. "I'm listening, don't think I'm not. I do need to know, though, if you'd rather I touch you or leave you alone while you talk. Some people just like to tell and get it all out in the open before anything else. Others, well, they like to know someone is there." Sipping from her coffee, she sets her mug down and reaches out in his direction. "Which do you prefer from me, right now?"

*

A small chuckle comes from him, then he eyes her sidelong. For a moment it might seem like he's about to say something, but instead he just lifts his chin and nods towards her dish. "Just… eat yer breakfast. Let me ramble." Ok not exactly an answer, but he shakes his head, looking away. It's nice she can make him smile, and rare he engages so easily with another. She likely doesn't know that about him at this point, but it's a kindness.
"But doin' that experiment ended up bad. I lost myself, lost my memories, any idea who I was, what I was. Did some terrible things during that time. Luckily some good folks helped me get back to somethin' close to who I was. And then these folks here, well… they finished the job."
Looking upwards, though likely looking at the school as a whole. "So these folks, I owe 'em. I'm here just ta make up for all the other things."

*

"You're here because you haven't forgiven yourself yet." She murmurs at length, having returned to her meal as he suggested she should. Eggs gone, toast gone, she sets the plate aside and makes a soft drag across her lips to clear off any crumbs. Cradling her mug, she sips from it lazily, eyes up and over its brim to focus on the man beside her. "I want to tell you I'm sorry for what happened to you, but I don't want you to think it's pity. That's all people can say sometimes, 'sorry', even when they had nothing to do with what happened." Sip. "Are you happy here?"

*

"It's alright," Logan says, more a kneejerk reaction to an offering of sympathy, but he adds a nod to it as he forces himself to wrap his mind around it. But then she asks him if he's happy here he gives a nod and a smile. "Yeah. They're my family here, ta be fair." And, in one case, literally so. His lip twists just at the corner as he meets those teal eyes of hers, "I mean I have a rep ta maintain, you know? But when it comes down to it, this is my home."
He waves that off and takes another sip of his juice. "Anyways, there ya go."

*

Catwoman nods. She asked, he answered. Nursing her mug, she falls silent for a time, considering herself and where she sat. Licking her lips, she finishes her drink, only then moving down and heading for the sink with her dishes.

*

For now Logan leaves his plate there, set next to him and folds his arms over his broad chest. Across the way he watches her wander over towards the sink and then asks before she turns back, "And you, Selina? You've given me small windows inta things. Small hints. But I get the feeling that you've got a long history…"
A moment passes, then he takes a breath, nostrils flaring subtly as he watches but then says, "Then again, might not be any of my business. But still."

*

"Me?" She asks, rinsing the platter and cup before setting them down in the basin. Drying off her hands with a towel, she returns to his side and slumps back. "I was an orphan, grew up on the streets. Did…hell, everything I had to. Stole, prostitution. Almost killed my pimp. Got arrested and out again a few times. Finally had a chance for a job, a real one, through some bullshit program. I tried…until my boss pushed me out of a window." Shrugging, she kicks her feet, her fingers tapping along the edge of the counter. "Around that time, I noticed Batman showing up in the city. I thought, in some way, he had the right idea. So…I decided to do the same thing, but for my side of town. Didn't stop me from taking, though. Y'know, wanting more." Eyeing his way, she offers him a passive smile. "I try to be better, but it's not in the cards for me. I have my slums, I have my cats…that's enough, I think."

*

Through it all he's watching her, listening, his eyes partially hooded as his entire focus is on the woman as she relates these small aspects of herself and create a larger picture of understanding. His eyebrows lift slightly at the mention of Batman and what that might mean, then he gives a nod at that last pair of sentences.
"I can sorta see that." How that would or could be enough. But then he looks up, "Sorta how I try to keep on even with all the crazy in my past. Just take steps one in fronta the other, and hopefully with each one make things a lil better each day."
He looks towards the plate beside him, then gets a small smile as he adds, "At least those days when ya don't meet some wild gal in a dress knockin' the tar outta some geeks."

*

"I don't deal with white-collars well. Never have. I…try, but like I said, it's not working." Sighing, she looks down, the talks about them seeming to open the woman up. She's thinking something, a question left silent and on the tip of her tongue. Finally, she looks up and his way. "I…should probably get out of here, huh? It's a long way home."

*

Logan pushes off of the counter and then steps across the distance, his socks making small scuffing noises as he moves. He steps up behind her and rests an arm around her waist, then looks askance towards her. "You don't haveta. You're welcome to stay." He nudges her gently with his hip.
If he can he'll meet her eyes and let his smile slip a touch warm as he murmurs, "What's on yer mind, Selina? I mean… now's the time for gettin' whatever out and into the air."

*

"No, I have to. I have people to look out for, too." She reminds him, and his eyes find a face that is a bit more somber than before. "I had fun, James. A-a lot of fun, and honestly, I wouldn't mind having it again. I-I just need to…" Frowning, she pulls away enough to rub at her eyes and face him directly. "You're too good for someone like me."

*

Turning to meet her, she can see the look of confusion in his eyes, that furrowed brow. He leans against the sink's rim and rests a hand on his hip as he watches her then he shakes his head, "I wouldn't agree, darlin'. But what makes you think somethin' like that?"
A glance to the side and then back, "I mean, I'm not about ta get inta a fight with ya about who has had a crappier time in life. S'more that you should let the other person decide on if yer good enough for them or not."
But then he sombers up a touch and says, "Now, if yer havin' regrets about last night and all. Then hey. That's one thing. But it ain't that other. Right?"

*

"I'm not arguing about that." She murmurs, voice soft and steady, even if her pulse jumps and there's a tension almost radiating off her form. She rubs at her arms and shakes her head, sending her hair swaying. "No-no. I don't regret that at all. Hell, I'll proudly sport these bruises for awhile." She smiles, even offering him a playful wink. "I'm just…going through some changes and," she laughs and sighs. "No, um. I like you. I don't like a lot of people. So, the possibilty that someone may like me for more than just the best night of your life, well…it's terrifying for me."

*

"Just sayin', Sel." He shifts around to rest his back against the edge of the sink's counter, arms folded over his chest. "Don't make decisions for me. Gimme the freedom and the respect to figure things out myself. Alright?" He rests a hand on hers for an instant.
But then in the space of the next heartbeat he looks away, then back as he affects a wry smile, perhaps trying to draw her out of that mood as he tells her, "Whoa, 'best' night…" He inhales a breath as if drawing it through his teeth, unsure of that wording. "I dunno about /best/." As he says that last he grins and leans away a little as if ducking out of the way of her reprisal for such a comment.

*

"Fair." She agrees, brushing along his knuckles in that brief exchange of touch. His words, however, do bring her around, causing the woman's eyes to widen, her brows arching. "Hey! I'll have you know I was the most expensive woman in my profession, sir!" She declairs, her hands resting on her hips, one jutting out to the side. "But if that's how you see it, I guess you can find someone else." She rolls her eyes, pivoting in place before heading back toward the stairs, nose in the air (and a barely smile on her face).

*

A short laugh slips from him and then he moves to follow after.

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