11930/The Wisdom of Wiltshire (Or: The Philosophy of Poultry)

The Wisdom of Wiltshire (Or: The Philosophy of Poultry)
Date of Scene:	06 August 2020
Location:	Kitchen - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Ted and Shannon discuss life, their gifts, and share a bit of wisdom over a good meal.
Cast of Characters:	Nightingale, Ted Gammage

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Nightingale has posed:
     Really, whenever Shannon went anywhere, trouble followed. It didn't matter if it was to have a look at an antique carousel still in operation over in Metropolis, or if it was to soak in a bit of ancient Greek history at the Met, or even to get a bit of pizza. As she bustled about the kitchen, in her favorite red tartan sweatpants, baggy grey tank top, and floofy sheepdog slippers, she mutters softly to herself, "Small wonder Mr. Proudstar wants to change my nickname..." She glances down at her arm and smiles some, shaking her head and chuckling. At least that one had been worth it!

     By the looks of it, with one pot on the stove, the oven in use, and the smell of fried chicken and cheese in the air, there was little doubt she was bleeding off some energy in some fashion or other!

Ted Gammage has posed:
"Was always told talkin' to yerself was a sign you're goin' crazy," comes Ted's voice from the door. He'd apparently quietly wandered in just in time to hear her muse to herself, "But ah always thought yer probably good till ya start answerin' yerself," he notes with a wider grin. He's idly towering in the doorway a moment longer before stepping in. He's wearing a nice comfy pair of jeans, a button t-shirt and a button up shirt atop it, though it's not likely the buttons could fasten across his chest and it's merely ornamental at this point. "Wha'cha up to?" He glances at her arm a moment after she does, "I take it ye' feeling a bit better?"

Nightingale has posed:
     Chuckling softly, Shannon turns to see Ted there in the doorway, extending one wing by way of a wave over to him. "Oh, I've done that too. Trust me, I went around the bend a long time ago." Mere chuckles turn into outright giggles, and she brushes a bit of hair out of her face. Glancing down at her arm again, she nods. "Yeah, though I've got to stop being so dang soft-hearted sometimes. Half the time when I get hurt, it's not my own hurt. But," she adds, grinning right back. "It's nothing a little fried chicken and mac 'n cheese can't take care of for the moment... if you're hungry?"

Ted Gammage has posed:
"Ma'am," he muses in return, "I'm pretty much always hungry." He holds his hands out a bit, indicating his size, "Takes a lotta gas t' keep this truck ah'running," he notes with another grin, then sort of realizes he's more boisterous than usual and tones it down some. "Anywho, ah guess I could understand it. Think if I could take someone's pain away, ah'd probably go overboard with it too." He half-smiles a bit, "At least with me y'won't have to worry bout that. Don't know if I've had so much as a blister since I was twelve." He watches her a few moments more, before he does step over to have a seat, "So who's injuries y'wearin' lately?"

Nightingale has posed:
     "You hear about that incident down at the Met a few days ago?" Shannon smiles over at Ted, not seeming to mind his more boisterous nature one bit. It was nice, really, to see him settling in a bit. "Guard on duty there took a nasty cut to his arm. Older gentleman, might not have healed as well as quickly as someone a bit younger. I didn't want to see him go through the weeks of recovery. Maybe I should've just bound up the cut, but dangit... too soft-hearted."

     On the counter nearest the stove, there is a wire rack, already bearing one or two pieces of fried chicken. The winged teen's just coating a third and a fourth piece to lay them in the oil. Sizzling and savory scents fill the air. "Good. So... not only strong, but pretty tough, too? Has anyone ever tested you to see just /how/ tough?"

Ted Gammage has posed:
"For what it's worth," he says, "I think y'did the right thing. Usually th' only folk that tell others they're too soft hearted are meaner ones that feel a lil' guilty they didn't do anything about..whatever it is they're complainin' about." He lets out a low breath, then adds, "Not that, y'know, I like seein' ya hurt instead, but ah get it. Ah suspect yer gifts are way more useful than mine."

He's not quite grabbing the food yet, but he's eyeing it every now and again and just talking. To be honest, he's missed being chatty, not that he'd admit it. He still avoids touching, however, sitting where he is so he doesn't accidentally bump his new friend. "Ah, yeah, pretty tough. Y'could probably grab a knife and poke me with it and it wouldn't even leave ah mark." He eyes the pot a moment, "Heck ah could probably stick mah hand in that grease for a few moments. Not that ah try it, but I once accidentally pulled a hot pan outta the oven without thinkin'. Couldn't let th' cookies burn." He shrugs a bit, "But...ah mean I haven't had anyone try an' shoot me or anything. Might not be bulletproof. Not somethin' ah'm keen on really testing, if y'get me.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon nods, and smiles somewhat. "Yeah, testing things like that can get a little hairy. But on the other hand, it's better to know what your limits are. That's something I'd bring up to Mr. McCoy or Sam, or both." It only takes a few minutes on each side to cook the chicken through, with the end result laid on the wire rack, the burner turned off, and the oil set on the back of the stove to cool.

     "I wouldn't count your gifts as not being useful. Sure, I can fly. Sure, I can heal someone. But that healing comes at a cost. I can fly to a patient, but right now I'm not at all sure I could airlift them out, beyond the size of a young child. And if someone was pinned, I wouldn't be able to get them out. You could, or Megan could. You both have gifts that would let you get into a situation, and bring your teammates home alive." At that moment, the oven timer goes off, and it's off to pull the pan of mac 'n cheese out to cool and serve. While the pan's cooling, she's getting a couple plates and some utensils, and putting them out on the counter.

Ted Gammage has posed:
"Heh, in mah current state, I'd not really count on me t' not hurt someone worse tryin' to save them," he says, running his fingers through his hair. He's quiet a few moments, getting up to gently as he can help gather tableware as he's not the type to let her do it alone. When he does speak again, he says in a softer tone, "Ah hurt someone, y'know." He sets down a plate, "Let m'guard down for a second. Jus' a bump. Knocked him near into the bleachers. Had pads and a helmet, still broke his arm in several places an' gave him a concussion." He shrugs, "Hopin' t' get th' hang of it though." He clearly feels a great deal of guilt.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon's expression just drops, as she hears Ted's story. She goes very, very quiet, her brows furrowing. "No wonder you didn't shake my hand when I was with Sam and Mr. Summers," she says quietly. Though she had a serving spoon in hand by now ready to serve out the mac 'n cheese, she does step a little bit closer. "I'd give you a hug if you'd allow it. That must feel... awful." How could she ease pain and guilt like that?

Ted Gammage has posed:
"Yeh, ah mean I still don't... touch people," Ted says. "Most ever'one, even here, y'know, couldn't take me getting distracted a moment. Its th' big reason I wanted to come here, t'learn to be normal again without having to focus so much. It's getting harder," he says "Or, ah'm getting stronger? Is that somethin' that happens? I don't even know." His shoulders droop, and he doesn't move back from her, "Ah, dunno if ah'd trust me t'be honest," he offers, scratching a spot on the back of his neck.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Trust has to start somewhere," Shannon replies, smiling a little bit. "Just hold still, alright?" Unless Ted moves aside, she leans in to offer a brief, simple hug, a gesture to let him know he is not alone. It is kept short and sweet, with the winged teen stepping back when all was said and done. "Sometimes abilities can and do shift. Mine... it's strange, but they've shifted sometimes, and it's just not reliable yet. I wish it was, because there have actually been a couple times I was able to heal someone without hurting myself. If I could just figure out how and why..."

Ted Gammage has posed:
He does go still, trying to put on his least terrified expression. It's short, but nice and, honestly, he's missed contact so it's all good. He takes a moment and eventually just sits down to eat a bite or two as he listens, trying to wrap his head around the science of mutations. "Aw man, what if ah get strong and jus' can't touch anything without it breaking. That'd right stink," he adds the last with a light huff, but then shifts his thoughts. "Well, did it feel any differen' when you did the not hurty-heal as opposed to th' hurty heal? Maybe the injury was less?" He's really just curious now, and if he's truthful, happy to have something distract him a bit.

Nightingale has posed:
     "I'm not even sure what I did differently, beyond trying to take time and think it through rather than just feel it. But I've tried that other times, too, so who knows if there's more to it." Getting her own plate of chicken and mac 'n cheese, Shannon draws a stool up to the counter and perches her posterior, giving a little flick of her wings behind her.

     "Two words that suck are 'what if'. 'What if' I get too strong, or 'what if' I never learn to heal any other way, or 'what if' anything else. It can be a good way to imagine things as they /might/ be, but it can get your mind going in a bad loop just as quickly."

Ted Gammage has posed:
"Well, ah'm sure you'll figure it out," Ted says, adopting his most positive tone. "An, hey, you'll prolly be able to haul people around with flight one day. Maybe not me, cause, y'know, the whole thing makes me real heavy," he notes, "But ah bet you'll nail it. Probably got a lotta fliers around that could help." At her words of wisdom, he does nod, "Yeh, ah fall into those bad loops ahlot these days," he notes. "What if this don't change. What if ah have to live as a hermit. Who'd wanna be 'round me then. How'd ah even afford th' insurance, cause ah bet I'd be expensive in that regard." He grins, obviously trying to make a joke before fully tucking into the meal.