10255/Ongoing Thanks

Ongoing Thanks
Date of Scene:	29 November 2019
Location:	Men's Dormitory (West Halls), Second Floor, Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Nathaniel thanks BeanSam for the gift.
Cast of Characters:	Hindsight, Samuel Morgan

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Hindsight has posed:
    It's the same night as the Thanksgiving feast at Xavier's, though significantly later, and the majority of the students have settled into their respective rooms, with food comas that'll likely last well into the morning. Nathaniel waits for the hustle and bustle to die down outside of his dorm, then snags the package he got that night, his laptop, and a piece of pumpkin pie from the fridge.

    From outside SamBean's room, there's a patient couple of knocks.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    There are few people that venture out that far into the corridor. The sheer distance one has to walk to get to Bean's door is the metaphorical 'are you absolutely certain?' prompt you get before doing any serious work in any program. Often there's a highway hazard sign hanging from the door with the script 'Not interested, go away!' but today the sign is absent. That means it may be safe to approach and knock, but are you absolutely certain, the floor asks with every step.

    The door opens like any normal door. No hidden traps activated (as some students are happy to believe), and the visitor was not mauled to death by an irate German Shepherd (as other students maintain).

    Bean opens the door seemingly half asleep, or at least fairly tired, already in his sleeping clothes. Bear can be spotted in the background, curled up in a large doggy basket while gnawing on a bone of nigh epic proportions. Courtesy of the kitchen. "Oh, hey Nathaniel. What's up?"

    Seeing the other teen, Bean clears the doorway and invites Nathaniel in. Are you absolutely sure?

Hindsight has posed:
    Nathaniel was -pretty- sure and also curious, so the daunting distance is crossed with fairly confident steps. He was on a mission. One that could probably wait for the morning but still! Sneaking about at night is just a little exciting, but when Bean opens the door, Nathaniel plays off whatever inexplicable giddiness he was feeling with his typical grin. "Hi. Hope you still have room for dessert?"

    The plate holding that pumpkin pie slice is outstretched. If not, Nathaniel certainly does, but his first priority is properly thanking Bean rather than indulging.

    He steps into the room, apparently having come fresh from the shower. His hair's unstyled and dripping with water, and a faint lavender and cedar scent clings to him. "I wanted to thank you," Dark eyes take in the other boy's dorm. The package is in his gloved hands, wrapping untouched. He's dressed in lounge pants and a black graphic tee. "And open this with you around."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    The room is, unsurprisingly, neat. Oddly enough not spartan, but everything is arranged /just so/. Books on his shelf are arranged alphabetically by author, a mix of Forrester, O'Brian, Dumas and Voltaire. Pride of place is an original print of 'Metropolis', the book that kickstarted the German science fiction scene and was immortalised in the early days of cinema. Incongruously, there's even an old record player to be found, along with a signed copy of Creedence's 'Willy and the poor boys', containing that age old rock anthem 'Fortunate Son'.

    Unusual, perhaps, is that there is a sleeping bag next to the bed... a bed that has every indication of not being slept in often, despite the home made quilt lovingly spread out on it. Desk and chairs are functional, but there are at least enough chairs to seat visitors. Being at the end of the hall, the room has twice as many windows as the standard dorm, and looks out over the stables. It's probably not too hard a climb from there to the roof, and the view of the grounds is at least spectacular. Or would be, if the curtains weren't drawn.

    "It's okay." Bean answers almost automatically, slightly perplexed, and closes the door. "Not sure about dessert, but I'll give it a valiant try. Please, take a seat." He doesn't say 'make yourself at home'. Perhaps an important omission? "I'm short on any drinks that aren't loaded with energy, but I can at least offer you something?"

Hindsight has posed:
    It's ordered in the way that Nathaniel imagined. Not that he goes around imaging his classmates' dorms a lot. The record player is the only thing that stands out (yes, even the sleeping bag only elicits a slightly raised brow from him but no comment), "That's retro," It's 2027, so that and the vinyl are remarkably retro. Which is why he remarks on the retro-ness.

    "That's all I ask," Nathaniel mentions, about Bean's valiant effort, setting the plate down on the desk. "If you need help..." He waggles his brows and takes a seat on the bed. It's maybe a too familiar move, but he gives Sam an intentional look of permission before getting too comfortable. He'll move if that's preferred.

    "So," He begins, setting the gift over the laptop situated carefully on his legs. "This is the first gift I've ever received on Thanksgiving," And birthday and Christmas gifts were also far and few between growing up. He won't mention it explicitly, but that truth might make itself apparent in the weighty quality of his words. "I don't really know how to feel? Other than, yanno, super grateful." He begins pulling at the packaging. "I didn't want to open it in front of the others...felt wrong being the only one."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Bean is anything but an open book, but some things are immediately apparent. And now that he's dressed for bed, in his own dorm room, the scars on arms and legs are visible. They speak of a life that involved a lot of violence, and they get covered up as soon as he can get to his closet for a hoodie. Too much skin might also be a problem for his guest, so he covers up before swiveling the desk chair around and sitting down. Parking yourself on the bed? He doesn't seem to mind at all.

    "It's my first Thanksgiving, so I might have gotten the gift giving thing a bit wrong. If it offended..." He leaves the rest of that statement unspoken, instead leaning back slightly. "Social things are a bit of a challenge for me, but you looked like you could use a better pair of gloves. Take it from someone who spent hours every day wearing them, I know what it's like when they don't fit right, or you can't feel pressure properly." Technical details, always a safe refuge. For a moment, there is silence.

    "You deserve a few gifts, Nathaniel. I'm pretty good with body language, almost as good as Mister Ramsey is with language... your parents... yeah." Need he say more?

Hindsight has posed:
    Nathaniel interprets the retrieval of a hoodie as a means to avoid skin-to-skin contact. That is his natural response whenever dealing with unexpected visitors, and he projects that unto Bean. It makes him sigh lightly, but his smile returns, "How could I be offended," He rolls his eyes. "I guess I just feel special, so, um, thank you. For that." That's his third expression of gratitude if you don't count the one from the actual feast.

    "Shhh, don't spoil it," He teases. It's not an unexpected gift though, and he pulls out the pair...which are way less bulky than his normal leather ones. He sucks in a breath. "Thank you." Four!

    "Yeah," He agrees about his parents. His family and his place within it isn't simple. A glance reveals that (the only Asian within a stereotypical Caucasian household? Nuff said). "I wasn't sure about it, but I'm really happy I spent the holiday here."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    It seems that, of all things, Bean appears a bit self conscious of his scars. Or he might think they upset other people, and that's why he insists on always wearing long sleeves. Not even a cool unit tattoo or anything to show off either. "Don't worry about it." Being thanked for gifts? It was fairly new. "Glad you enjoyed the holidays at least. Family is where you find it."

    Now that he's done sounding like a cross between an overly polite gent and a particularly trite fortune cookie, he might even branch out into different topics. Small talk? Not that easy either. "Look, I know I've got a bit of a reputation, and I know what some people whisper about me. But if anyone, and I do mean anyone, ever gives you shit, let me know. I don't have a lot of friends, but I protect the ones I have, y'know?"

Hindsight has posed:
    "Amen to that. How was your Thanksgiving? First, you said," Nathaniel removes his leather gloves and after removing the plastic wrap, he holds the new ones in long fingers. His gaze flickers from them to Samuel.

    "I try not to pry," he says, shrugging. "or listen to what anybody else has to say. That rarely has good results." He can get the full story without much effort at all, but that method is also utterly unethical to him. "Glad to know I qualify." As a friend, that is. Of course, only friends give gifts, so he's just teasing. His grip on the gloves tightens ever so slightly, and he makes to put them on, but his eyes start to glow faintly.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Yeah, let's just say that where I was before the school wasn't big on celebrations. Not... the kind of celebrations we'd recognise anyway." Seriously, who celebrates the night of the long knives? And that was among the least obscure ones as well. Bean doesn't dwell long on that topic. "But it was pretty amazing. Not just the food, although it's easier to appreciate it after helping out, but just... the atmosphere. Don't think people spend enough time being thankful for what they have."

    "Some of the rumors have merit..." he adds but doesn't say anything more. Watching his friend's eyes glow actually brings a smile to his face. Mentally reaching out to something, anything electronic in the vicinity, Bean relaxes and lets his own eyes take on their slightly ethereal blue glow. Nothing to see here... just two glowing eye buddies, glowing their eyes...

Hindsight has posed:
    "Sorry," Nathanial snorts, eyes dimming a touch. "That happens sometimes." His head throbs with a dull ache, but it's considerably less of an effort since he tentatively began training with Doug. He takes a deep breath, then slips into the advanced set of gloves. "Wow, they fit perfectly. Like a second skin honestly."

    They dim completely after that, as the vision dies around him. "You glow too!" He says, with an amused grin. "Not for the same reason, I hope?" The only electrical device on him is that laptop whose presence still hasn't been explained...it's 'sleeping'.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Secondary thing, don't know why my eyes do that. I can stop it from happening, but sometimes... y'know, sometimes you just want to be yourself." Bean winks over to Nathaniel, visibly glad that the gloves seem to fit. "As I said, I know the value of a good pair of gloves. Those are fire retardant, by the way, in case that ever comes up." He hopes it doesn't, but there's a lot happening in the school at any given time. Fires... fires are just one of those things that occasionally happen. As a courtesy, he doesn't activate the laptop. Bad form to start prying into someone else's electronics.

    "And thank you. For coming over. That doesn't happen a lot."

Hindsight has posed:
    "I think I -might- be able to stop mine too," Nathaniel shrugs. "I'll get back to you on that one. I have started using them a bit since Doug and Mister Guthrie stepped in to help me." It's the least he could do with all their support. And the internship. Doug doesn't get the honorific since he isn't a teacher. "If it ever becomes an actual problem, I'll just close my eyes."

    No prying necessary, he opens the laptop himself. "Oh, I'm doing more than just coming over. It's tradition where I'm from to marathon Star Wars every Thanksgiving," He grins broadly. "Yes, you'll have to suffer through Phantom Menace. If it's cool, I thought you'd maybe want to join me."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Oh, well now... The smile on Bean's face only gets wider. "Now that... that is a tradition I can get behind. If you want, we can sneak down to the rec room and use the big screen. Or, y'know... we could..." Could what? Hmmm? The smile turns into a blush. A blush?! This Bean! The kid who famously doesn't show emotions, the terror of the school, the spiritual successor to Laura Kinney as the boogieman that will come eat you in the dark. Blushing? Yes, blushing.

    "We could just watch it here, there's plenty of space and I've got a small fridge with drinks and..." And. A very definite and.

Hindsight has posed:
    "Sure..." says Nathanial, a coy smile playing on his lips. And what? And Bear? The white-haired mutant nods, as if watching it in Bean's room was the technopath's idea and not just what he suggested seconds ago. "You mentioned energy drinks? Break those out. There are at least twelve hours of lightsabers and Wookies to watch, and that's not even getting to the newer stuff."

    He goes about setting it up on his computer...because it looks like they're staying here. Thank god for no classes tomorrow.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    One of those doors on the very organised desk? Turns out it hides a mini fridge containing, mostly, energy drinks of the mountain dew variety. Also a few boxes of what may be long shelf-life food and cans of drinking water, hermetically sealed. It's one of the former that gets liberated, Bean handing the bottle over. Speakers that a previous occupant of the room had installed 'pop' into life, and there's no doubt that this is going to be a full on cinematic experience. Who needs cables, or remote controls?

    And then Bean sits down, on the bed, idly arranging a pillow for back support.

Hindsight has posed:
    "That's a neat trick," Nathaniel tells him. It also gives Nat a clue into Sam's mutant ability. Speakers, lights, hmmm. "If my sperm-donor is good for anything, it's his streaming accounts." He settles onto the bed, accepting the energy in a bottle and the help with the pillows. Warning: position over the course of the night is subject to change.

    "Right. Netflix and chill time," He says, his voice light with amusement. That mischevious twinkle reaches his eyes, too. "Well, chilling is open to discussion." He expects that one to go waaay over Sammy's head.