2012-08-07 No One Is Pregnant

One does not simply walk into Mordor, no. Neither does one simply bring up the issue of one's teammate possibly having a child wandering around out in the world. So, Sam waits until Jean's run into town for some errands, then texts her and asks--oh, so casually, because really, no big deal--if she wants to meet up at The Grindstone since he's here, too.

Last time Sam was in Salem, he ended up getting his toenails painted... this can only go better than that, right? He pretends he doesn't see the pretty manicurist from the salon where he took Betsy to cheer her up. Nope, not at all. He slides down in his seat and reads a book on his tablet really, really hard. Important book.

Jean has gotten back into the swing of things at the Institute, helping to take care of the students who don't go home over the summer, typically the ones whose families are don't want them there, or who can't safely be without instructors to keep their powers from getting out of control. When she got the call to talk from Sam, she figured it would be about one of the students, since he's so good with them.

The redhead is wearing jeans and a blouse with sandals, her hair in a pony tail. She spots Sam and moves over to slide into the other chair at his table. "Hey, fancy meeting you here," she quips. "Got your text."

"Thanks for meeting me." Saved. Sam puts his tablet aside. "Can I get you something?" He hasn't ordered yet since he was waiting for Jean.

"I'd love a mocha latte," Jean admits. She sets down a few shopping bags, mostly school supplies from the looks of it. Getting close to the start of the next school year.

"Be right back, then." Sam heads off to order for them--coffee for him and mocha latte for her--and the order's done pretty quickly. "Here you go, miss," Sam teases, setting Jean's drink down in front of her before taking his seat again.

"Do you ever stop working?" Sam asks, taking in the school supplies. He's sure Jean must do something for hersel--no, actually, he's not sure at all.

"Sometimes. But this time of year it's lesson planning and setting up classrooms and such. That whole idea that teachers get the summer off is a myth," Jean quips. "I do plan to have a nice swim at the lake when I get back though." She sips the latte and makes a satisfied sigh of appreciation. "That's what we need at the school. A barista."

"Another thing I could do to earn my keep." Sam grins and leans back in his chair, doing that annoying thing that leggy boys do, tipping it back on two legs. He's honestly not testing to see if Jean will tell him to put 'four on the floor, Mr. Guthrie', though the thought crosses his mind when he realizes what he's doing.

"I feel badly about dragging you in here for something other than just being social, but I wanted to have a word with you away from the house--since it might be kinda delicate," Sam says.

Jean is probably more likely to push Sam's chair over telekinetically to teach him a lesson, but she refrains. His words have piqued her interest. One brow arches upwards, slowly, towards her hairline, as she cradles her paper coffee cup in both hands. "Delicate? Please tell me no students are pregnant." That is the first panic of all teachers at a boarding school.

Sam chokes on his coffee as her suggestion intersects with the matter on his mind and his brain throws out the most untoward mashup of Logan and the Virgin Mary. Dear Flying Spaghetti Monster, that's WRONG.

"I, no," Sam says hastily, thumping the front legs of his chair back on the ground. "Not that at all. The person involved is not a student. I just met her the other day, and whatever seems obvious, that's not it."

That gets a relieved breath from Jean as she sets her cup down and folds her hands on the table. "All right. What is this all about then, Sam?" She tilts her head slightly. She could just poke around in his brain to find it, but that would be impolite, no matter how much she is tempted to.

"So, the other day I helped stop a carjacking, which is also not what this is about, though I am sorry for whipping around in public." Sam gives Jean his best sorry-puppy look. "I was hanging out in Columbus Park a while back and made the acquaintance of that Spider-Girl, she was the one who was off trying to stop the carjacking in the first place, and then a young female friend of hers arrived to help and that--" Sam draws a spiralling-in and crashing trajectory with one finger "--is what I wanted to talk to you about. Because as far as I can tell, she's the spit and image of Logan."

Blink. Blink. Blink. "Logan has a kid sister? Does he know about this?" Jean asks. She looks shocked. Amazed. Stunned even. She hasn't even put together the other possible connection between them.

"I don't think it's his sister, Jean. I'd peg her as not-yet twenty, maybe younger." Sam's expression is uncharacteristically solemn. "She has the -snickt- thing down and everything. Two claws, not three. Same speed, same build, same attitude, same colouring. Same wicked side eye." He leans forward, hands cupped around his coffee. "There's something off about her, too, and I don't mean just being on the feral side. She had no idea what a burrito was, no idea what beer was. If I had to put money on her not being from around here, I'd bet the farm on it."

Jean does, at this point, take a small trip through Sam's mind, plucking out his current impressions, memories, and visuals of the girl in question. It's eerie, the resemblance. "So you think Logan may have had a child? He doesn't remember a lot of his past, it's possible. It's also possible she is a sibling. He's been alive a long, long time, Sam. He doesn't age the same, his healing factor renews his cells." But she looks troubled. "You want me to ask him, don't you?"

"Yes, and no." Sam turns his cup around in his hands. "I know kids, Jean. She is one, no matter how old she is. And she was wary of the cops coming, more than me, more than Spider-Girl. She eats like she's used to not getting enough. So I want to be real careful with her."

He looks across the table at Jean, picking his words carefully before he goes on. "I like Logan and I feel for his troubles, I don't wanna keep something so big from him, but delicate is not his thing. He might not remember things, but she might well, and we don't know what she's been through and how she feels about anything. Her interests should come first. Mostly, I know I'm not the brightest bulb on the tree and I didn't want to smash around in this thing without talking to you."

"Do you want me to meet with her, if you know how to contact her? I can look and see what happened to her, but you know that's a fine line to walk, Sam," Jean says quietly. "Have you asked her about her history, just as a friend?"

"I don't know how to contact her, Jean, and I'd never ask you to do that unless it was that or... I don't know, someone blowing up the Statue of Liberty. Just doesn't strike me as a good foot to get off on. I'm going to talk to Spider-Girl again soon, see if I can get her to bring... I'm not even sure of her name, Jean. Like it didn't occur to her to give one. But she knows how to fight." Sam leans back in his chair again, looking uncomfortable. "I just don't have a settled feeling about it. I didn't want to sit on the information. I can let you know what comes of talking to Spider-Girl. This girl's running around out there, though, and I'm pretty sure that she can do most of what Logan can do."

"Then it's important that we make contact with her, Sam. And let her know there is somewhere she can be safe," Jean notes. She grimaces. "And if she is Logan's daughter, then he has a right to know, and he might be able to help her more than we can. At least to understand her abilities." Jean looks slightly unnerved by the idea that Logan might have a kid.

Sam's a little unnerved, too. "I'll try and find her again, Jean. It worries me, where she might have been and how long. I don't even know if she knows about Logan, if they are related." He rubs a hand over his face. "I just don't want her to run. If she's like Logan, she can fend for her body, but with kids, I worry about the rest of them."

"Agreed. I'll be on standby if you need help on her behalf, Sam. I won't talk to Logan about it until we know more." Jean sips her coffee, pondering with a frown creasing her forehead.

"Sorry to add to your worries," Sam says regretfully. "I appreciate you waiting, though. I'll do my best not to lose her." That's his big fear now--that he'll screw it up and lose track of her. But, she obviously likes a bit of company and food, so he's got an in.

"All right, keep me posted. And if you need help, remember to call me. I can be anywhere pretty fast these days," Jean notes. Including space. Weird.