11112/Well, Now This Is A Little Different....

Well, Now This Is A Little Different....
Date of Scene:	23 February 2020
Location:	Medical Lab - X-Men Base
Synopsis:	Bean is recovering in the medbay after the Yeti attack on LexCorp's chocolate factory, and has a familiar winged visitor who is /usually/ on the other end of the exchange!
Cast of Characters:	Nightingale, Samuel Morgan

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Nightingale has posed:
     This was definitely not normal. Usually, it was the mansion's resident winged healer settling down in a bed to rest and recover in the medbay, post-adventure. This time, it was her best friend. Though Shannon's books and laptop are tucked away near the bed where Bean is resting, she herself is not immediately apparent.

     Oh, no.

     The first sign of her presence is the smell of something familar. Something ooey, gooey, and very likely golden and topped with toasted bread crumbs. The aroma precedes her before she appears in the doorway with a tray bearing a large covered plate, a large mug smelling of hot chocolate and topped with marshmallows, and... a magnetic nameplate.

     Smiling, but otherwise silent, Shannon deposits the tray on one of those rolling tables, moves it to where Bean can reach it, and....

     ...puts the magnetic nameplate on the end of the bed.

     Samuel Morgan. Hero On The Mend.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    It's not normally Bean that comes back in a state that requires some minor re-assembly. This time, however, he was on the wrong end of a Yeti, which turned the visit to a chocolate factory into a very chilling experience. So chilling, in fact, that he's now recovering from hypothermia. For some reason, this seems to involve a lot of sleep.

    For another, almost but not quite pragmatic reason, this involves a German Shepherd sleeping practically on top of him, laying across the supine Bean with an air of protective possession. Clearly nobody is going to disturb Bear's human without his strict approval.

    It's probably the smell of the Mac 'n cheese that wakes the teen up. Must be, considering he's known to appear practically out of thin air whenever it's being freshly made in the kitchen. Now, covered with warm blankets and dressed in a sports jersey to allow the monitoring leads to escape out of the neck opening, he himself opens an eye and blinks. Slowly.

    "I spy, with my little eye, an angel."

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon chuckles softly, pulling a chair over near the bed. She's in a pair of loose black, light cotton pants, with a tunic top made of similar material and edged with a fringe of glittering black seed beads. A simple pair of black flats cover her feet, and she's left her hair loose, barring the little blue braid on the left side of her face. "The real angel is you this time," she says, dipping her head. "How are you feeling?"

     From her right pocket, she withdraws a small snausage doggy treat, grinning at Bear. "Hey, you. Mind letting your boy sit up so he can get some food in his belly?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Warm." is Bean's assessment of his current state. Considering he has now experienced what it's like to quite literally freeze, he's probably never going to complain about the cold ever again, even if he was ever inclined to do so. Bear looks a the treat, glances over towards Bean, towards Shannon... and then chomps up the treat, shifting so he can set on the teen's legs. Nope, not going to abandon physical contact, it seems.

    The back rest of the bed rises, by itself, because there have to be some advantages to being a technopath. With care, Bean pulls his arms up above the blanket, revealing the tight compression gloves on his hands. Hey, he nearly lost his fingers to frostbite, and quite a bit of skin to a frozen fire hose, no chances are being taken. "I am starving, absolutely starving."

    And yet the first thing he reaches for is the hot chocolate, enjoying a sip with a devilish grin.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon just facepalms, chortling. "After all that, the first thing you go for is the hot cocoa? Really?" Well, at least Bean's being permitted by his canine guardian to sit up long enough to eat. She pulls a chair over next to the bed and settles down, ruffling her wings. "I bet. I had that yeti thing let one fly on me and damn near froze my wings off. Really glad Thor showed up when he did. And who was that in the suit, anyways?" She's reaching out to scratch Bear's ears as she talks, smiling. He'd been a good boy. The best boy.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "I have an idea, but... no evidence." And there's no point in speculating on it now. But that's the second time he's seen that suit, and this time he has enough clues to make the connection. So he puts the mug down with slightly more than usual haste, when the heat soaks through the gloves. It'll be a while before he can play the guitar again.

    Bear has been, demonstrably, the best boy he could possibly have been. There's not been a moment when he hasn't been by his human's side, except for when it would be inconvenient for treatment, at which point he always sits on the stool nearby. Just watching, looking comforting. And now he leans his head into Shannon's hand, leaning so much that he's tilted diagonally with his tongue lolling out.

    "I'll be honest, I didn't even see Thor. Guess we owe him one then?"

Nightingale has posed:
     Nodding slowly, Shannon smiles. "He showed up right after you froze. Used Mjolnir to warm the place up, so yes, you do owe him one. We even got a trip home via the Bifrost. That. Was. So. Neat! Kind of sucks you were unconscious for that part." She reaches over with her free hand and lifts the lid from the plate, revealing a heaping helping of that comfort foods of all comfort foods; the necessary utensils are, of course, in evidence as well.

     "I think the next time Thor shows up, we'll have to do something a little special to say thanks. Just not sure what."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    For a moment, Bean fumbles with the cutlery. His right hand seems to have more mobility than his left at the moment, and he eventually resorts to physically pushing the fork between the fingers and then using his right hand to wrap his left fingers around it. There. Done. And no help was required.

    "If there's any left, I might restore a motorcycle for him, maybe? Full Valhalla theme, think he'd like that?"

Nightingale has posed:
     Shrugging, the winged teen smiles at Bean, tilting her head. She doesn't attempt to help him with his cutlery, knowing his pride would take a hit if she did. At any rate, he'd have to learn to cope while healing. "I don't know if he'd use that," she muses. "Guess we could just ask him, or if you wanted it to be a surprise we could see if Mr. McCoy or Kitty would be able to find out what he would get the most use out of or simply enjoy for its own sake." She smiles some more, and chuckles. "There's a third option. I could fire off a message to the Captain. I think for something like this, it wouldn't be a bother."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Bear watches as Bean struggles for a moment, and then settles back down when the teen starts to eat. Crisis averted. The cheese encrusted pasta goes down a treat, and not just for the taste and memories this time. "The Captain?"

    For a moment Bean looks almost horrified at the thought, until reason asserts itself. "If you think it won't be a bother..."

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon smiles, and slips her phone from her pocket. She has to leave off of petting Bear, tapping away at the surface of her device. "He'd be a logical one to ask. Not expecting a reply anytime soon, but it can't hurt to try." With the message sent, she puts her phone away. Her expression turns a bit more serious. "I know you've seen and done a lot more than I have, so maybe this isn't as much of a thing for you, but... how are you holding up, otherwise?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Now that's a question." Bean replies, glancing over for a moment at the mug of hot chocolate, where the marshmallows are slowly melting. He'd nearly died using a vat of ChocLex as a weapon, others had in fact died, right there in front of him. Bear is no telepath, but crawls up a bit closer.

    "To be honest, I don't really know. I mean, they died with guns in their hands, fighting a monster, trying to save people. In away, that's not nearly as bad as any other way. But as for the rest..." he shrugs, contemplating his plate and finishing it off. Whatever he thinks, clearly it's not going to ruin his appetite. It's not raising his heart rate or his blood pressure either, according to the monitors, but then those are very unreliable witnesses in his case.

Nightingale has posed:
     "No, it's not," Shannon agrees, her voice soft and somewhat sombre. "They died doing what they were trained to do. They knew the risks, signing on for a job like that." A light sigh escapes her, enough to set her little blue braid to waving slowly back and forth. Silence, but for the sound of the monitors and the sound of Bear panting, reigns supreme for several minutes. "I guess it's the same risk we take, doing what we do. But I wouldn't change it for anything."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Except we're probably better trained to take on... whatever that thing was." So concludes Bean's assessment of the industrial destruction that was the Yeti fight. At the same time he concludes his mac 'n cheese and extracts the cutlery from very unwilling fingers before picking up the mug again and leaning back. He's holding it by the handle this time, rather than his usual two handed hold. "How are you holding up?" He knows Shannon hasn't seen as much death as he has, and a question like the one she asked him was a sign she wasn't taking it well at all.

    It's only as he leans back that he sees the magnetic tag attached to his bed, catching the reflection from the cabinet on the other side of the room. "Heh... deserved that one."

Nightingale has posed:
     "About how you'd expect," Shannon begins, each word spoken with no small amount of hesitation. "Going to be having nightmares for a few days of those two men being eaten, and my bestie turning into an icicle permanently. I'll also have quite an earful for my therapist this week, and avoid chocolate for a while. Which can only be good for my waistline." Leaning back in her chair, she tilts her face towards the ceiling. "But it's like you told me. The fact I'm feeling anything at all just means I'm not too far gone, it's actually a good thing."

     When Bean notices the name tag, Shannon's expression mellows out, her lips tugging upwards in a light smile. "Yes you did. Try not to use it too much?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "We all cope with it, one way or the other." And Bean takes another sip of that hot chocolate, the smile returning. "Myself, I like to get straight back into the saddle, if you know what I mean. Had to have this chocolate before anything else, or I probably wouldn't have eaten anything at all."

    When Shannon looks at the ceiling, Bear crawls a bit closer and leans over, until he's cheek to cheek. Yes, he's that cheeky. "In the end, we're alive, that thing is gone, I expect... so, all's well that ends well. What's a nightmare or two in the long run?"

Nightingale has posed:
     The feeling of a furry face nestled right alongside her own breaks Shannon's solemn reverie, the most wonderful of all German Shepherds earning a soft laugh, and a scritch behind the ears. Yes, Bear was a good boy. The best boy. He, too, was doing what he was meant to do. And in the end, isn't that all anyone could ask of themselves or others?

     "Maybe I should have a little hot cocoa then, here in a bit." Maybe she, too, should get right back into the saddle, at least when it came to chocolate. "I'm still taking a day off of training, though, just kind of process all this, ya know?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    There's a nod, and a sudden unexpected yawn. Bean looks accusingly at whatever is currently dripping down into his veins and then raises an eyebrow at Bear, as if the loyal companion is somehow complicit in this conspiracy to make him sleep. "Never, ever do anything except relax when you get back and all the paperwork is done. Do one thing to go from preparing to actual mission, do nothing mission related after it's done to go back to normal life. And, right now... if you'll excuse me, my eyelids are about to go on strike..."