2013-01-04 Comfort Food

A meal in the cafeteria of the Xavier Institute was a much needed break from what has otherwise become a life of hectic mayhem, not to mention a lack of sufficient sleep. There was a certain justification to Kwabena's actions in New York City - using old underworld contacts from his life as a street thug and drug pusher in an effort to gather information about the militant organization that had attacked the clinic and killed Bobby Drake. It was tough work, and it drained on his spirit in ways that couldn't easily be explained.

Then, on his way back to Westchester, the incident on I-87. That was a long story. A very very long story.

Luckily, Kwabena is managing not to sit in the cafeteria and brood. Seeing so many young mutants running around, being kids, brings a bit of warmth to his otherwise beleaguered spirit, and the warm meal is far better than anything he'd found on the way back from New York. Lacking anything better in the way of wardrobe, he wears his black leather riding jacket and a pair of well-worn blue jeans. The meal, you ask? Something from Ghana, of course. Chunks of seasoned and sauteed beef overtop a mash of rice, vegetables, and the type of spices that would turn most American's stomaches into burning pits of fire.

Jubilation Lee, who has more wardrobe and less idea what's been happening lately, is just coming into the cafeteria now. She's been busy, but on other things: Her little alien friend is home from being lost for days in New York, and that by itself has her in a better mood than she has been in a while. She pauses at the counter for a tray, then looks around for someplace to sit. That's harder to find that it might seem. While she's hardly the typical outcast, she does rub some of her fellow students the wrong way. But the rightest choice is sitting by himself. Besides, she hasn't seen her favorite Ghanaian in a while. Off she goes, getting close to his table before she calls out her greeting. "Hey, Kwa? Joining the ranks of the fed, one bite at a time?" she asks, a hint of friendly teasing in her voice.

At this familiar voice, Kwabena perks up. A much brighter smile spreads across his face, revealing his strong pearly whites and a much less broody expression. "Jubes," he answers, and quickly motions toward the empty chair across from him. "One bite at a time," he answers. "I was surprised when dey told me dey could make -anything- I wanted. So, of course, I ordered de best food evah to come from Ghana." He pushes the plate over just so, and a daring look comes upon his mismatched eyes. "You may try some, but be careful, it will put hair on your chest and fire in your stomach!"

Sitting back a bit, and regardless of whether she chooses to try any, his eyes squint just a bit. "Break from class?" he inquires, curiously.

Jubilation sets down her tray at the indicated spot, but instead of sitting down, circles the table to lean down and hug him. "It's so good to see you out of the MedBay," she whispers. "You look great, Kwa, almost like your old self again."

She eyes the plate, sliding into her seat, and picks up her fork. "Study hall. But I have an early lab for Chemistry, so I try and get down here a little early for lunch." Another look at the plate. "I'll risk hair on my chest, for the best food to come from Ghana!" And so she forks up a bite of rice and a chunk of beef and veggies, sliding it smoothly into her mouth...

And turns not a hair. Not one. And it's not because of the mousse, either. "Spicy! But it's got a good flavor," she says, smiling in delight. Those blue eyes, however, hold hints of knowing impishness, as if she might've known what was coming.

The hug earns a warm smile, and for once, he doesn't ruffle Jubilee's hair. When she sits, he slips up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a wristwatch-shaped device that is affixed to his right wrist, upon it, the stylized blue logo of the Fantastic 4. "I had some help from Mistah Fantastic," he answers, sparing her the ugly details. Suffice it to say, he is, indeed, very healthy.

Lips curl into a jovial grin when it becomes clear that this isn't her first foray into African cuisine. He levels a fork at her, bouncing it three times, before stabbing another piece of meat. "Full of surprises, you are." He takes a drink of water, before letting his food rest for a few moments. "So, I may become one of your teachers, in some few weeks. I have offered to teach classes on survival, and for de oldah students, lessons on street culture and awareness on organized crime." Two eyebrows shoot up into the air. "How does 'Mistah Odame' sound? Bettah dan 'Mistah Shift'?"

Jubilation giggles. "I'm from SoCal, remember? Lots of spicy Mexican-style food there, and this is only a little stronger than some of that," she reminds her friend. "Very different flavor, though! I'll have to try this another time." She pushes the plate back to him. "I get the feeling it'll have an afterburn like a habanero, and I don't need that in lab!"

She looks at the device and grins. "I think you told me about something like that, but I didn't realize it was so small! Wow, science really can make for better living. And I'd love to have you as a teacher, Kwa... or should I say, Mister Odame?"

"Oh yes, SoCal," answers Kwabena, thoroughly amused by the nickname. "I will have to visit San Diego one day!"

Looking back down to the device on his wrist, he lets it once again become concealed by the sleeve of his jacket. "It is very impressive technology, even de lab computah's downstairs cannot figure it out. I must pay a trip to Mistah Richards in de near future, to see if he's made any advancements with it. But it is very nice to know dere are good people out dere, willing to help odah's without need of payment or exchange. You keep on calling me Kwa, though. Save de Mistah Odame for de class room!"

He then silently wonders if she had been told about the death of Bobby Drake. A concern comes into his eyes that he just can't shake off, his food forgotten for the moment. "You know," he whispers, "we are doing everything we can to find out what happened with Bobby." He cuts himself short, as if wanting to say more, but thinking better of it.

"Totally saving it for the classroom," Jubilee promises... and then her face falls at the mention of Bobby. Evidently she /did/ hear about it, though maybe not much. "It's kind of hard to believe," she says, her voice falling as well. "I mean, I keep expecting him to walk in here for lunch, just like any other day..." Was that a sniffle?

"It is nevah easy, is it?" asks Kwabena. He knew that Jubilation was no child, despite the way she might dress and act. There were times that hard lessons had to be learned, but there was also time for hope.

"I know I have not spoken much about what happened in Latveria. I want you to know dat I watched two of my friends die, only to find out dat dey had never died in de first place. It didn't change the grief I felt, or de sense of loss." Then, he reaches across the table to try and find her hand with his own, offering what comfort he can. "We must remember that those we care about can go at any moment, but always hold on to de hope that all is not lost."

Following a squeeze of his hand, he sits back against his chair and offers one more thought. "Do you know dat I have been dead before?"

It /was/ a sniffle. And it's got friends who are coming out now. Jubes grimaces as she takes a quick breath to control her sinuses. "Sorry," she murmurs, as his hand finds hers. She clutches at his, holding on tight, but can't meet his eyes. Maybe she just doesn't want him to see her shedding tears like a little kid.

Like an X-Baby who's gonna cry, isn't she?

But not yet. "I'll... I'll try," the California girl whispers. "It's just... there's so much that reminds me of him, stuff I never thought about before. And it's so hard to think of anything else when..."

She breaks off, blinking. "Kwa? /You/ were dead? How... how did..." She breaks off, meeting his eyes at last. Trouble is, she's staring incredulously.

"I threw myself into a high tech energy field," answers Kwabena, almost flippantly at that. "I thought that when my body turned into smoke, it would do something to de field, and it -did-.  I destroyed it!  But... it destroyed me, too."

He leans a bit closer again, speaking in hushed tones as he tries to explain it all. "My mutation does things to my body. To the actual state of my body's matter.  I can turn into gas, or liquid, or I can cause my molecules to become stronger, denser. But, dat force field, it scattered me when I was in my gas state. I hope you undahstand what I mean." He shakes his head. "Anyway, I was scattered so thin dat I could not find my way back. Everyone else thought I was dead, and for lack of a bettah term, I -was-."

Reaching slowly for his glass of water, Kwabena pauses just so, wondering just how much to tell her. He looks back at her eyes again, hesitantly at first before making his decision. "It was Betsy who brought me back, who helped to piece me back togedah. I owe her my life, and honestly, it's... a big part of why I'm -here-." He gestures about with his eyes, as if to signify the institute as well, rather than the obvious suggestion of being, you know, -here-.

"I guess, de reason I am saying this is... while we should never be foolish about hope, we should also remembah, dere -is- always hope." He doesn't want to tell her about what happened to Bobby, but it was so similar to what had happened to him, he can't help but think that there -must- be a way to bring him back. Shattered into hundreds of pieces of ice? Similar to having one's molecules scattered into thin air.