2012-09-09 The Dance

School has only been in session for a week, and Jean has already set a broken arm and treated a concussion (Sam) as well as handling the usual number of split lips, scraped knuckles, burns, cuts, and bruises that go with the first week of incoming new students mingling without full control of their abilities yet.

Dr. Grey is down in the base's med lab, filling out paperwork. There's always so much paperwork. She's been so intent on it that her coffee has gotten cold. She's in weekend-wear of jeans and a blouse with a cardigan sweater over it to ward off the air-conditioned chill of the below ground facility.

There is always plenty to do at the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning once the school session begins once more, plenty to occupy both the faculty and the students both. Sometimes Scott Summers wonders just how it is that Charles Xavier managed practically on his own. Then again, he was only playing shepherd to a handful of them. The number of students has grown rather substantially from that time.

While he hasn't had to nurse half the occupants of the mansion above back to health, Scott has had his own tasks to attend to. Between teaching, preparing lessons and checking in on random classes to make sure that everything is going smoothly he has almost been run off his feet too. You'd think he'd be used to it by now but every new semester it still takes him by surprise. Either way he slips into the medical lab, a file folder tucked under one arm, a steaming cup of coffee clutched in the other. "Heard there was a rash of injuries this afternoon. Anything I need to take note of?" he asks quietly.

Jean recognizes the signature of Scott's mind before he even comes in. Ever since she merged with that Phoenix thing in space, her telepathy has been off the charts. She continues writing, but a smile curls the corners of her mouth. "Nothing more than the usual first week injuries. Fire-user scorched a lab partner's hand by accident. Student with plant control laughed so hard she knocked all the apples off a nearby tree right onto another student's head. Papercuts, one small fist fight that the Professor handled."

Jean signs her name to a form and finally lifts her head, eyes going to the coffee cup. "Tell me you brought me a refill. Mine looks like it spent too much time with Bobby."

"You exaggerate. The icicles haven't even started to form yet. You could nurse that for another half hour at least," Scott comments drily as he walks over towards the desk. It doesn't keep him from laying the steaming mug down beside her however before leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. "Par for the course then," he adds quietly, not really surprised. This isn't their first go around at this afterall. But then this school throws a few unexpected curveballs their way, more then a traditional educational facility would. Which is to be expected. "I think we had at least a half dozen scuffles by this time last year. Progress." Of a sort anyway.

"Bless your heart, Scott Summers, for recuing a damsel in caffeine-related distress," Jean coos as she plucks up the cup and takes a sip. She sighs happily as the warmth soothes her. She grins and leans her elbows on the tabletop. "I'd attribute it more to most of the real troublemakers having graduated to become teachers this time around, so they know the things the kids will try before they think to try them." She tips her chin towards a chair. "No need to stand, Slim."

For just a moment a half smirk plays across Scott's features and he dips his head towards her in acknowledgement of her point. "Who would have thought that would have ever paid off. I thought the Professor was going half out of his rocker when he suggested that they would make excellent teachers. I was mostly convinced it was going to be Lord of the Flies anarchy out there in a matter of days. Guess it just goes to show that he still has a few things to teach me. Teach all of us," he comments before waving a hand at her offer. "Ugh, I've been behind a desk almost the entire day. If I sit any longer I'm worried that I'll take permanent root. No, I just came to play knight with steaming mug and to see how the first week had treated you. Settling back in okay after the... summer?"

The Summer. When she died or nearly died when the Hulk punched her, literally into space. Jean grimaces a moment, but her smile returns soon after. "I'm doing ok. A little restless. Moreso than usual I mean. Sam agreed to help me build a greenhouse on the grounds so I'll be able to garden even out of season. It always seems to clear my head. What about you, Scott? How are you handling," everything, "the new year?"

It's a little bit silly sometimes, how after all the extraordinary things each of them can do, that they still dance around concepts that htey have to deal with far too often given their ages. Like, first and foremost, death. Then again, maybe it is one way to cope. The ruby-red sunglasses that perpetually rest perched on his nose help mask part of his expression though he still seems to regard her a triffle to intently as he asks her question, only glancing away when she counters with her own. A small shrug ripples across his lanky frame... that still hasn't changed... and a smile slides over his face. Not forced, not fixed, just easy. "Maybe I'm growing up, but I'm finding the whole teacher thing is starting to come a little more easy. Who knows, maybe it is possible that I'll actually be able to be comfortable in my own skin some day afterall," he says drily.

"That makes one of us," Jean retorts with a smirk. "I am having a hard time being the 'adult' in most of my interactions. Even with the other teachers," she admits. "I don't think any of us came out of the Summer unscathed. With those mutant death camps overseas and" she trails off. And her death. She seems as incapable of discussing that as he does. For her though, it's more a case of not knowing how to explain it. How does one describe the White Hot Room to someone who hasn't been there, or the feeling of harboring a cosmic force inside of you? Simple, you don't. She sips the coffee.

That, of course, might be part of Scott's difficulty in broaching the issue. It's something outside his comprehension and try as one might it is a little difficult to relate, to even pretend to relate to something so far outside anything you've actually gone through. Then again, in their own way the X-Men are a family and anytime a family member is lost, is thought to be lost, it is a dark stain that is impossible to ignore but difficult to deal with. "There have been better summers," Scott agrees. Though really, it's a little difficult to think of any. The life they lead doesn't exactly lead to a lot of idyllic downtime at the best of times and every hapy memory seems to be matched by two less than pleasant ones. "No, it's not particularly pleasant to think about what when on there," he agres quietly, more subdued. "Or with you," he adds after just a moment's hesitation.

"I'm all right, Scott. If anything, I'm better than I was before; more capable of protecting the students and the X-men. But I won't lie to you. I'm different. I'm still Jean but I'm more too. It's hard to explain," she says quietly, grimacing.

"Glad to hear it," Scott replies quietly, a brief frown lighting on his features. "Not that I think there was anything wrong with the old Jean. Most of us were rather fond of her you know," he points out mildly, just a race of levity before that serious facade comes slamming back down. Ruby-red gaze on her once more, Scott is silent for a moment as if considering. "Well you know if you need to talk about anything that you're going through I'll certainly make time to listen," he says before quickly adding, "And I suspect that goes for anyone on the team. I don't imagine any of us have quite gone through what you have, but..."

"Haven't you? All of us have gone through something that's changed us forever. It's just another step in our evolution or something. The first of ones kind always have the hardest row to hoe or some other clich. Right?" Jean asks, chuckling a bit. "Thank you, though. I appreciate it."

"Some experiences are more extreme then others," Scott notes drily. "And I at least haven't had to do it twice," he points out. But it is certainly very true, there are very few of them who come to the Xavier Institute entirely... whole. It is hard growing up different at the best of times. Far too many of them are forced to deal with what those differences mean at a very young age. In that at least Scott is no different. An orphan with a power he can't entirely control... yep, he knows a little about adversity and tough times. "Hey, don't knock cliches. They usually get to become cliches for a reason."

Jean shakes her head with a smile. "I'll try not to. We just need to stop all being so damned gloomy. We need to do something fun. Maybe we can take the students on a field trip camping. That might be nice." And no doubt a perfect opportunity for something terrible to attack them all. Like Ninjas. Or skunks. Or ninja skunks.

"I thought brooding was an essential part of what made us mutants, a built in part of all our powers. Giving it up seems a little... radical if you ask me. I shudder to think of how we'd fill our free time without it," Scott counters wryly, finally pushing himself away from the wall and resting a hand on the chair offered earier, spinning it around so that he can sink down onto it, chin resting atop folded hands across the back of the seat. "Camping," he muses quietly. "The weather's still good, should be for awhile still. Lots of potential lessons we can build in..." he notes. Of course. Already planning of how he can wedge a little education into 'fun time'. "We don't even have to go all that far. The grounds are big enough, that's for sure."

"Scott, camping on the grounds is, as all the students will say, LAME. We're driving distance to either the Catskills or the Adirondacks from here." Jean props her chin in her hand. "I think it would do everyone some good. Maybe a bit of family bonding out there."

Ahhhh, lame. While Scott might be growing a little more comfortable in his own skin, there are certain things that will probably never entirely die. For instance, being lame. "We have a perfectly good forest and lake less than a mile from the mansion," Scott points out, even underground gesturing in the right direction. It's entirely possible that even if you stuck a blindfold on him and spun him around for a half hour he'd still stop pointing dead north. Spatial awareness indeed. "You know, I think you and the rest of the 'cool kids' are just camping snobs," he says sagely before holding up a hand in apparent surrender. "Fine, fine, we'll run it past the Professor. If he doesn't object to a field trip so early in the semester we can take them out to the 'real wilderness'. But mark my words, you're gonna regret poo-pooing my idea after a few days of bathing in a cold lake instead of sneaking back to the mansion for a hot shower," he promises with a faint smile.

She doesn't have the heart to remind him she can survive in the cold of space now. Jean merely chuckles and nods, sipping the coffee and making shooing gestures at him. "All right, but get out of here. I have a ton of papers to turn in before tomorrow and I'm nowhere near done."

"Dereliction of duty. I can't let it get out that I'm a supporter of that. You'd better get back to work," Scott replies at once, standing up from the seat and rolling it back into place. "We'll grab some of the others and head into town later this week. I doubt we have enough camping gear laying around for everyone. The class seems to get bigger and bigger ever year," he comments as he turns for the door, apparently confident that Charles will have no issues with their proposal. But then he does seem to be leaving more and more of the responsibility for the Institute on them lately. "And don't stay up too late," he adds, pausing into the doorway for just a moment, glancing back over his shoulder. Warren didn't know what he was talking about. She doesn't seem that different and certainly not cruel. Reassured, Scott vanishes back into the hallway, mind alreay on other things.

Something inside of Jean smiles slowly as Scott retreats, and it seems...satisfied.