2013.10.12 - X-Men Take Aspirin Too

Home, sweet home.

For a guy like Kwabena, it's often difficult to firmly establish the idea of 'home'. That being said, there is something altogether refreshing about being back at the Xavier Institute, if even for such a short period of time. Rachel was scheduled to depart for Genosha today, and Kwabena would be not far behind.

It's morning, and autumn is on the air. In spite of the hot mug of coffee breathing upon his face and the remnants of cigarette smoke that linger in the air, he can still smell the new season as it lingers upon the crisp morning air.

In spite of the wicked hangover he's nursing.

There is a slim chance that the rumor mill is already turning. Someone drank all of Logan's beers last night, and that someone may have been Kitty Pryde. There's also a stash of vodka and whiskey that is all but gone, and the culprits behind it may have been Piotr Rasputin and Kwabena Odame. For anyone who was nearby the kitchen last night may have noticed the raucus, drunken storytelling that took place between the three.

Regardless, the bloody hangover was worth every moment. The freedom to socialize and be free like that? Doesn't exactly exist neck deep in the Hammer Bay operation.

Perched upon the edge of a picnic table in the rear grounds, the hangover has Kwabena looking a bit ragged, just like the light blue hoodie he's wearing to protect his bald head from the cold air. And still, there's a sense of peace about him as he stares off toward the forest, lips curled into the smallest of grins.

Ororo Munroe walks quietly out to where she saw Kwabena sitting from the windows of the mansion. She is indeed very much aware of what when on in the kitchen last night, though she's honestly surprised that Remy wasn't right there in the middle of it himself. She'd debated joining the impromptu festivities herself last night, but most people seem to think of her as a kind of a wet blanket so she'd opted to stay away.

Upon reaching the picnic table, she also looks out toward the forest, noting the colors of the leaves changing in a way she had never seen before coming to the school. And, without so much as offering a single word in greeting, she holds up one hand with two aspirin resting in her palm.

When Kwabena looks up to see who has arrived, he gets a face full of sunlight as it moves into a break in the trees. The resulting wince of pain is a stern reminder of the price he's paying for aforementioned festivities, and when he notices the aspirin resting in Ororo's palm, a particularly sardonic smirk appears.

"Eh. I hope we didn't wake de whole mansion." Hopping off the edge of the table with the practiced ease of an experienced hangover-survivor, he approaches Ororo and snatches the aspirin, both of them, with a grateful expression.

It isn't until after he pops the aspirin and takes them down with a swig of coffee before he really gets to appreciate the fact that he's seeing an old friend. One of the first X-Women he met, before he even knew of their existence. With that, a hearty smile forms on his face, and he reaches to embrace her. "Ororo." It's a simple enough greeting, but one filled with gratitude beyond mere aspirin.

"Kwabena." Ororo returns the hug with one hand, then offers the bottle of water in the other along with a faint smile. "The mansion is well-insulated against noises from the kitchen, so none of the children missed any sleep." After all, in a place this high end, the banging of pots and pans and the general noises of food preparation would be something the original residents would have frowned on.

Looking at her longtime friend for a quiet moment, she finally asks the question that no one enjoys hearing. "How soon will you be leaving again?" After all, she /could/ hope that he's here for at least a few more days, but she knows better. In fact, if she's guessing correctly, he'll probably leave again sometime today.

The water is taken with gratitude, though he'll set it aside for a moment while working on that coffee. "Well, that's good," he admits. "As much as I'd like to see some of de students, it wouldn't be good. I'd have to do some explaining, and, well." He shakes his head.

After all, how many of them saw his name plastered all over the news, directly related to narcotics trafficking and murder?

A shadow crosses his face for a moment, but it's soon put away. "Soon," he answers, reluctantly. "But, pahhaps not too soon." Moving back toward the picnic table, he perches half upon it, studying Ororo for a few moments. "Things are going well in Hammah Bay. Almost too well. I can smell a change coming, and we must be prepared. So, dere are some few things I want to do here, in de states. Contingency plans, in case it gets hot dere."

Ororo Munroe follows Kwabena back over to the picnic table and leans against it as well. "I've been suspecting this change for a bit of time now. But, I think just like everything else that changes, as long as we learn and adapt, we'll make it through." She doesn't offer another of her version of a smile, though. "I believe the Professor has already been working on contingency plans. You know how he has always seemed to see the big picture in a way so few others can."

"It always was inevitable," agrees Kwabena. "You know, de first time I met Erik? It was in a park. Staten Island. He invited me to play chess." A wry smirk shows up on his face. "I undahstand he used to play with de Professah." A hand gesture is given to help bolster his explanation. "We have a very simple task dere, but dere is no simple way to achieve it. All of de resistance cells? Nothing more than a distraction. Something to keep his eyes off what is really happening. It's why I chose to fashion dem off de French Resistance. Something to make it personal."

Then, Kwabena draws in a very deep breath. The smirk is gone, and a tired look comes over him. "I can only hope it was de right move. Eithah way, de mere decision to get involved means dat it will escalate, in time. Erik is not de kind of person to back down from dis kind of a challenge, and if he doesn't already suspect our involvement, he soon will."

Suddenly, Kwabena breaks off, scoffing somewhat. "Listen to me. I sound like a philosophah." He sounds a bit miffed about that, but on his face, he seems, well, somewhat pleased.

Ororo Munroe leans just enough to push Kwabena's shoulder with her own. "I am listening. And what I'm hearing does not just give me hope. It gives me confidence." She looks back out over the late autumn forest again. "Erik has always made a very formidable adversary because he is truly very much like the Professor in so many ways. Sometimes I get the feeling that their lives are a very large and elaborate game of chess, with the higest stakes possible. And I'm glad that I am on the Professor's side of the board."

Well, the first words do wonders to warm Kwabena's often cold heart. There was a reason she was one of the ones he actually trusted, and she gets a good, earnest smile from the fellow African. Nodding along, Kwabena can certainly appreciate the wisdom behind Ororo's words. There's a thoughtful expression on his face all the while, for her words confirm many of his theories. "So am I," he answers.

Looking down at his coffee, which has cooled now beyond enjoyment, he sets the mug aside and wields the bottle of water. "We are taking every precaution," he offers. "Every thing we can think of. I can't tell you how impressed I am. Of Rachel, Jocelyn, even Nate and Hope." A small, subdued grin forms. "You know, it was them who convinced Prelude to run for office."

That being said, he's still bothered by Hope's presence there. The smile is short lived. He's come close to trying to drag her back home, but knowing of her particular mutation, he's not sure anyone would succeed.

Really. Ororo nods a bit. "That is indeed impressive. I hope to get the chance to speak with them myself, perhaps thank them for stepping forward and dealing with that entire situation when they could have very easily just stayed where it's safe."

Nodding his head, Kwabena lets out a long sigh. Looking away, he eyes the tree line again, frowning. "By the way," he murmurs, much more quietly now. "That business regahding my name." Now, he's frowning. His past is always chasing him, and this most recent incident was pretty ugly. Turning back to Ororo, he seems troubled. "Someone was trying to get my attention. It worked. But, dat's not de pressing concern." Sure, encountering The Darkness was important, but Rachel had brought it up with Jean. The Darkness? It's going to be their territory for now.

He's more concerned about something else.

"Most of de students know my name. My real name. One way or de oddah, dey are going to come across news feeds. Blogs. Articles. Dere will be questions." He draws a deep, steadying breath. What would Ororo and Charles have to do in order to convince the students that no, one of their teachers is not a murderer?

"Honestly, I... don't know what you should tell dem."

"If they ask," because Ororo knows that some of these kids have similarly dark skeletons in their closets. Heaven knows she's got a few. "then we will tell them the truth. There isn't a single person here that has not had to make a difficult decision in their life. And if anyone here feels the need to confront you directly, then the Professor and I will discuss that with you and them."

It's enough for Kwabena. "Thank you," he says, for it worried him, and as soon as he departs for Genosha? He'll need to stop worrying about it.

"By de way. If Piotr does evah invite you to drink?" He turns back toward Storm, smirking once again. "Be very, very careful."

Ororo Munroe chuckles faintly as her lips curl a little, her version of a full laugh and wide smile. "Kwabena, rafiki yangu mpendwa, Piotr is from Russia. To him, anything less than twenty proof liquor is the same as water." She straightens away from the picnic table and reaches to thread her arm through Kwabena's. "Now, come. Remy might be starting to cook breakfast by now, and I can fairly well guess that he will know exactly what to fix for you that will banish that hangover."