2013.06.22 - Growing Up Mutant

It's midday at the Xavier Institute, and with the weather just below strictly uncomfortable, the summer students have taken advantage to get out and hit the rear lawn. Some are playing frisbee, there's a pick-up game of soccer on the field, and several are just hanging around. Keeping an eye on them is assistant/volunteer/whatever Cessily Kincaid, sitting back at one of the tables with half a sandwich left, sipping calmly on her soda. She looks distracted.

Jean emerges from the mansion, a cool drink and tablet in hand. She pauses a moment to scan the grounds, noting who's there and where. Cessily's distraction fairly buzzes at her. She cants her head, wandering her way. "Penny for your thoughts?" the telepath says with a smile, setting her drink down on the table.

Distracted enough, Mercury hadn't event noticed Jean approaching. Her head jerks up and her eyes widen slightly. "Oh, Miss Grey," she says. "Hi," she says. Cessily brushes her bang away and forces a smile. "Have a seat, I guess," she says. "I....just thinking about some things, really. I was down in Chinatown a couple days ago and ran into a....well, a protest? It was like, six or ten people, tops, but they were all 'Mutants taking our jobs' and stuff." She slouches a bit more in the chair. "I just wanted to buy some dumplings. I know this stuff goes on but...I've been /here/ for years. It was so easy to get comfortable. I mean...." Cessily's staring at her hands as they rest on the top of the table.

Jean gives the girl a wry, sympathetic smile. "Ah. Yeah... I know how that works." She gestures to an empty seat at the table. "May I?" And slides into it. "Yeah. We have a bit of an enclave here -- and, to some extent, in Mutant Town." Though that's a much rougher side of town. "It's easy to forget there are a lot of other people that see us as scapegoats for everything wrong in their lives." Her smile pulls a little. "The irony is that that chances are pretty good mutants didn't take their jobs at all." There's a much higher unemployment rate among mutants, truth be told.

Cessily nods at that. She takes her hands and moves them, stuffing them in the pockets of her skirt, as if to hide them. "At least you don't have this problem, Miss Grey," she says. "It must be nice," she says. "I just don't understand it. I've never hated anybody that much," Cessily says. It's not strictly true, Jean can sense, although it's focused more in the parental direction than at a group.

Jean can't argue that. "True," she concedes. "And, God knows, I wish there was something I could do to make it easier for obvious mutants like you." She knows imagizers only solve part of the problem. She gives the girl a wry smile. "I could give you a lot of platitudes and tell you that we're making positive strides by engaging the media and actively lobbying Washington, but I also know all that rings a little hollow when it doesn't touch the everyday." That and, as a telepath, she knows better than most that the battle for the hearts and minds of non-Mutant America will not be won by lobbyists, but by everyday mutants who will suffer many more ignominies at human hands before that happens. "But, the reality is... there are days it just sucks to be a mutant. I'm sorry you had to see that."

Cessily's mouth quirks up slightly. "It really does," she says. Her eyes dart down, then back over to Jean. "I believe in all that. The idea of it. I do, really!" she insists, "I just forgot how much it could suck sometimes. Reminded me of how....my parents...." Cessily trails off. "God, I'm such a whiner, what's wrong with me? I'm working for Heather Danielson of all things!"

Jean chuckles as the girl tries to rebound, still empathetic to the conflict within. "It's okay to vent once in a while," she tells her. "We all need to do it. There are far too many of us with unfortunate stories about our parents and families." She, on the other hand, is one of the lucky ones. Mostly. Not that she says that. It's not helpful in the moment.

"How are you enjoying your work?" Better to change subjects.

"It's...interesting. A lot of work, not very hard. A lot of it's just getting coffee or breakfast or keeping track of the schedule. Just being organized. Miss Danielson's pretty nice, though. Says she likes my look, but..." Cessily shrugs at that suggestion. "I might keep it up part time once I start in the fall. Oh, hey, speaking of which," Cessily sits up and then leans in, elbows on the table. "Do you know anything about this Academy of Tomorrow place? Because I got a poaching letter, I think they want me to ditch ESU. I went on a tour and it...I don't know, it seemed nice, I suppose."

Jean mms softly. "I don't know a lot about it," she admits. "Only that it seems to be recruiting folks with gifts or special abilities. Mutants, perhaps others as well, though I don't know for sure. I've been thinking I need to learn more about it, given how many of our students or former students seem to be recruited there." That and the fact it's serving as Hope Summers' home in this timeline.

"That's...mostly why I went," Cessily confesses. "I'm not stealthy but I can do undercover," she says. "Because who knows who /I/ am?" she suggests with a faint, self-effacing laugh. "It just seemed strange they were merging a high school and college program. Seems like a lot to bite off. If you think it's okay, then maybe there's nothing funny going on at all," she says. "Paranoia grows deep."

Jean gives a small shrug. "It's not paranoia," she says, "if they really are out to get you." Then, she chuckles dryly. "I really don't know, Cessily. I have no idea if they're on the level or not. The few contacts I do have on the inside there don't seem to see any threat, but, to be honest, I don't know them all that well, either." The idea, though, that the silver-skinned girl can somehow do undercover... is actually at once funny and smart. She's right. A lot of people won't know her. "If you want to go in there, that's your decision. But, God knows it doesn't hurt to have someone friendly on the inside."

"Empire State's pretty well established, and....it's what I can afford, honestly," Cessily says. "Ugh, it was nearly impossible even getting the papers out of my parents, until I threatened to apply to UO. I...guess that's good," she says. "If I take classes there or something I'll let you know," she says.

"Empire State's not a bad school," Jean says. "I know there's a lot of crap thrown around about which school is best." Her doctorate's from Columbia, but she started at ESU. "But the fact is, at the end of the day, it's the paper you need to go forward, not the name that's written on it." She chuckles, green eyes dancing. "It's like that old joke: What do you call a lawyer who barely passed his bar exam?"

"A lawyer?" Cessily says, knowing that one, and smiling. "I know, it's good. Maybe I'll transfer up, or go on to do later work. I've thought of law school, actually, so I can...be an advocate. For us. But that's four years away, who knows," she says with a shrug. "I'll have plenty of time to figure it all out."

Jean flashes a grin. "Exactly," she says. Nice to know the girl's up on her bad jokes. "And, yes, you will. Frankly, we can use all the advocates we can get." Indeed, given Jean's own work as a lobbyist, she knows quite fully what she's speaking of. But, most of her authority in government circles comes from her research PhD, not an LLB. "So," time to change the subject. "What're your plans for the summer?"

"Oh, I've got the PA job, and I'm volunteering here periodically," Cessily says. "I'm still looking for an apartment, which would be wonderful, really! My own apartment, in for-real New York?" she asks, actually grinning. "I'll need to find a roommate, so that'll be an adventure. For the rest of the summer...I Think there's a picnic plan for the 4th and then maybe a beach trip. I've mentioned to Laura and Joce and a few others."

Jean laughs lightly at that. "I recommend the Village, if you can afford it," she tells her. "Though Soho's nice, too." Okay, seriously. The girl's right. New York. What could be better?

"Scott and I are heading off on vacation in a day or two," she notes. "We'll be gone a couple of weeks." She smiles. "I'm looking forward to it." The remarkable thing about that? A) Cyclops is taking a vacation. B) Jean is taking a vacation. C) They're vacationing together, despite the fact the two are NOT romantically linked (any more), and haven't been for at least a year or two. D) All of the above.

"Biiiiig if!" Cessily declares. "I'd have to rent a box or something and cram myself into it," she says, gesturing to indicate a cube. "Wait, what!?" she asks with startlement. "You and Sco....Mister Summers? That's great! Where are you headed!?"

Jean laughs again. "Vancouver," she says. "Canada." They were going to go to Banff in the mountains, but then Calgary went and flooded. So, they gave up on that idea. "Only for a few days." And, doubtlessly, they'll hit most of the stupid roadside attractions along the way. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Cessily ohs and starts to nod, narrowing her eyes and then making a curious face. "Are you driving?" she asks.

Jean nods lightly. "Mm-hmm. The mustang." Because, really... a road trip in a convertible muscle car? Kind of compulsory, isn't it?

Cessily aaaaahs. "How very fifties," Cessily says, "That fits you guys," she adds. "I guess I just assumed you'd take the Blackbird. I mean, way better than flying coach, even. But hey, road trip! Awesome! Have fun!"

Jean snirks softly. "Fifties!" They're not that old. (And she'd hate to think they're that cute... Sucks to be her.) Nevertheless, she relents. "We'll leave the Blackbird here, in case it's needed." Team comes first. "Besides. The fun's in the journey."

"That's what everybody keeps telling me, Miss Grey," Cessily says. At least she's in a better mood than earlier. "So enjoy it, okay? Try not to get into any trouble. That always seems to happen when we travel," Cessily observes. "I should...hey....hey!" Cessily calls to the frisbee game, that's getting a bit rough, rising out of her seat.

Jean nods to that, smiling. "We'll do our best," she says. "And, don't worry. We're packing gear, just in case." Because, yes. Something always seems to come up.

As the silver girl starts off after the rough-housing, she grins, picks up her drink and tablet, and moves to find herself a recliner for the rest of her afternoon of reading.

Oh, how quickly they grow up.