13144/Give me grace, or failing that a sedative

Give me grace, or failing that a sedative
Date of Scene:	28 April 2021
Location:	Medical Lab - X-Men Base
Synopsis:	Worthington got his bandages off. There were steel feathers and angst. People grew.
Cast of Characters:	Archangel, Beast, Cyclops, Cannonball, Rogue

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Archangel has posed:
Warren, having awoken from his trauma induced slumber and subsequently had an array of visitors, finds himself unhooked from the beepy machines and various things that held his damaged wing in traction. A pile of bandages that were once wrapped around his head are now in a pile on the floor next to the bed he is supposed to be in, while the man himself is nowhere to be scene. Missing also from the bed appear the be the sheet that was used to cover Warren's legs while he was facedown on the medical bed the last time he was seen by any 'official' medical type.

Computer readouts show various quandaries and interactions, some pertaining to how much fluids the patient should be drinking, others involve catheters and proper insertion, and still others about how to remove Warren from the traction he had found himself in, but whomever might have made the requests of the autodoc covered their tracks well as there is no sign of actually who made the requests.

There is a flush from the adjoined bathroom, after a moment of time Warren emerges using the bedsheet as a makeshift sarong to cover his decency as he pads his way back over towards the bed. His hair is disheveled from the removal of the bandages that were wrapped around it, and his right wing hangs down and to the side awkwardly, the entire thing bandaged and stiff from the splinting, the functional one pressed flat against his back.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy received a text from Shannon the evening before, courtesy of field triage and it sounded a lot like attempting not to panic. Regardless, one can only travel as fast as one can travel, when you do not have a teleporter with you. So, he hasn't been able to come check on his 'patient' yet, though perhaps hasn't been THE most worried individual that ever lived. He may have even been taking private bets with himself.

"Yep. Why did I know I was going to find this situation right here? I must be psychic. Od's teeth!" exclaimed from the door, Beast steps inside, a read-out on a smart pad in his hand which apparently he can make a moderate amount of sense of, he squints over the top of his spectacles at the sarronged socialite. "Warren, you couldn't even give it twenty four hours before you wriggled free, could you?"

Cyclops has posed:
"Of course he couldn't, Hank, just like you couldn't give me twenty-four hours when I told you to not to get back to work when you came out of your coma." Scott says as he follows along after his blue furred best friend. He's dressed in a button down shirt, tie and a pair of khakis along with well polished shoes during the school hour. He gives an amused smile to Warren at his lack of clothing, then shakes his head.

"How are you feeling, Warren? Your body healing itself pretty quickly still or has there been complications?" He asks as he pulls up a chair and settles down into it backwards, straddling it.

Archangel has posed:
"Hey," he chuckles as he glances over at Hank, then Scott, as he hops back onto the bed and sits, "I was being threatened with a catheter. I'd rather not have to go that route, thankyouverymuch. Especially not while Ororo, Shannon, Rogue, and Jubilee are all standing around. Besides, I'm fine. My face already looks better than it did this morning, and the wing will be fine. I haven't seen the damage, but it is still attached to my body so that is at least something. At least I don't have to regrow it, anything else is just an annoyance."

Warren reaches into a container of cookies that were left on the rolling table by his bed and pops one into his mouth, "Wanna cookie?"

Beast has posed:
"Well, excuse me Scott, but I actually did. I stayed off work for nearly a month after I woke up. I just couldn't sit around doing nothing when my body wasn't remotely injured by that point. I would've started trying to glue things to the ceiling as a practical joke, using nothing more than toilet paper and good aim..." Hank notes with a nose-wrinkle at Scott, grins and heads over to the monitors, looking at the data that looks particularly... groomed. ID's usually pop in, when someone has logged into the system. For it to have no ID attached makes him cluck his tongue and shake his head mildly. But then there are cookies.

"Don't mind if I do," he replies, taking one up and hamstering it, taking up a bone density scanner and quietly going about checking various parts of the droopy wing for signs of obvious healing. "Never hurts to be careful, even if you do bounce back like a squash ball. All it takes is that one time it doesn't quite go to plan and you'd be listing to one side all the time."

Cyclops has posed:
Reaching to take a cookie, Scott gives Hank a look with a grin at him. "Really? A whole month?" He says as he wiggles the snack in his direction. "I am pretty confident that you did some type of work, maybe even research. I'm going to pull your digital library card and see what you checked out."

He gives a glance over to Warren after taking a bite, munching for a few moments in thought. "We never should have split the team up like we did. That was a terrible idea. I'm sorry, man." He says as he leans forward in the chair as his chest presses against the back of it. "We were able to save the Detective by the skin of our teeth, but that place is a hot mess now. We still need to find that kid. I'm thinking Jean logs into cerebro and we just do it the old fashioned way before someone else gets their hands on him."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie comes down with a rolling cart. He makes his way into the medbay looking around seeing folks awake, he says "Hey, guys brought some food down, figured make sure folks down here were eating." He lifts the cover on one of the plates, and there is a medium sized steak, baked tater still in foil, and grilled asparagus on it. "No one here has any eating restrictions do they? " He asks "Fired the grill up, and decided to make sure everyone was fed. There is four or five trays on the cart.

Archangel has posed:
Warren Worthington shakes his head, "Not your fault, Scott. I was the one that dive-bombed the trucks to smash their spotlights, had I not done that I wouldn't have made myself a target. I just didn't think that any of them would have been quick enough on the draw to take a shot. I was wrong and got a hole blasted in my wing to show for it...followed by a cracked skull and a concussion from hitting a wall at speed since I couldn't pull up in time due to said wing. Having the rest of the team there probably wouldn't have made a difference."

As Sam arrives, Warren chuckles and motions to a pizza box over on the counter, "Jubilee ordered pizza, but I am not going to turn down a steak. I'll gorge myself if I have too."

Beast has posed:
"Feel free, I'm sure you'll find it quite enlightening, Scott." -- that came out muffled by confectionary -- Hank takes a small dull hammer with a rubber end and bonks the ailurion just above the bandage line and listens to the wing. That done, he seems satisfied enough and actually chews the cookie he stuffed in his mouth, glancing over at the door and over his spectacles as Sam trundles in with BBQ on the menu. "I'll certainly take a plate, when I'm done making sure that our featherhead here hasn't healed with kinks." He grins, looking sidelong at Warren and offers in a more sombre tone. "I'm extremely worried about that kid. Even given he's a dendromorph and likely a dendrokinetic, he's been out on his own in the badlands, with an injury, post first manifestation for days on end. Even if he's good at finding water, we're on a clock there."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "I made them to what you normally ask for." He says on the doneness, putting one on a table near warren and one at Hank's normal station, where he has seen the other man eat many a meal probably. "So, what exactly happened, aint had a chance to read the after action report yet."

Beast has posed:
"We were clever clogs Sam and decided to do a pincer manoever on our enemies, splitting our party up to cover more ground in a search for a young renegade mutant in the badlands of North Dakota. I believe what happened is Scott's and my team found the kidnappers of a local detective... she's in the other room by the by... and Warren's team found a lot of pitchforks and torches, so to speak." Which doesn't help all that much if you want a straight answer, does it Hank? "We were contacted regarding a multiple homicide in a very small town. A favour called in to Xavier, it seems. Things are not quite resolved there and the township is a mess. I called in the feds but the clean-up is going to be quite... phenomenal. And it wasn't actually any of our doing, more's the surprise."

Archangel has posed:
Glancing from the steak over to Sam, Warren shrugs a shoulder...which causes him to wince slightly. "Long story short, at least from my version of things, I got shot by some shotgun wielding anti-mutant haters, and it blasted a hole in my wing, which then subsequently sent me hurtling into a wall at divebomb speed. I'm shocked I didn't snap my neck, to be honest. Or maybe I did, and I have already healed that."

That being said, now the steak takes Warren attention back and he starts to cut into the slab of meat."

Cyclops has posed:
There is a frown upon Scott's face as he leans against the chair. "Any injury that a teammate gets is on me, Warren. It's the hat I wear, the responsibility." He gives a nod of his head towards Sam. "Speaking of, you are coming with me on the next jaunt out there, as is Hank and Jean. Anyone else I will evalulate. No students this time. I don't want to see any of the New Mutants exposed to this. From here out, we are going in hot and heavy and we won't take the foot off the gas until that kid is found."

He leans back some, then rises up to his full height as he smooths his shirt down, then straightens his tie. "I am not going to risk any of our lives this time. I want us in and out as fast as possible." He closes his eyes and shifts his hand beneath his glasses to rub at his face before he he places them properly back on.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods his head a bit and says "I'll hit the reports, and get myself clued in as best I can." He offers to Scott. "Your supposed to leave the crashing to me, thats my specialty." He jokes a bit to Warren. "We have anyone able to get us any copies of what the feds find?" He will ask thinking a moment. He does offer Scott food too.

Beast has posed:
"Oh, I'll likely touch base with them once civil order has been restored to that town and the clean-up crews arrive. The Good ol' boys were having a right time," the way he says it brings all kinds of images to mind, of very dark activities that men have done to other men, time after time. He looks over at Scott beneath his brows, a long hard looking at, then turns his attention to his own steak and potato combination, raising fork in salute to the Grill master. "I'd shortlist a few others for consideration, depending on what Jean picks up. Knowing where and finding where can be tricky in that kind of terrain. Logan may be of help."

Archangel has posed:
Warren Worthington is in the middle of chewing one of the bite of steak as Scott speaks, the Angel's eyes turn their gaze that way. "I didn't hear my name in that list of people going," mumbles Warren as he stares at Scott. "If you try and sideline me, Summers, I'll show up anyway. Blackbird be damned I'll find my own way there." Warren's skin turns a tinge blue while his voice gets a hint more gravel to it as he continues, "Besides...I want some payback."

Which is probably why Scott is sidelining him in the first place.

Cyclops has posed:
"It's not a competition, Warren. I wouldn't even take Hank if it wasn't for the fact we need his big brain to help with the kid. He's the only one that understands the kid's physiology. Logan is automatic, obviously. But I'm taking a strike team, I'm not taking X-Men." Scott says with a press of his lips together harder. "I would like Betsy and Illyana as well on this short list."

Rising upwards, he makes his way to Warren and places his heavy hand on his shoulder and stares him directly in the eyes. "I am not saying you are a liability, okay? I need cool heads out there. Sam is invincible when he blasts. He'll be the one to snag the kid and get out of there if any type of gameplan works. Illyana is our get out of there card. Betsy and Logan is obvious and Jean is our comms." He furrows his brows a bit, hesitating for a moment, then clears his throat as he gives him another pat on the shoulder. "I don't want you to go out there and lose what's rest of your soul either. You've been through so much, Warren. I just.."

This is hard for him. Decisions like this are easy in his head, but spitting them out?

"You are one of the best of us, okay? I don't want you out there looking for blood. This team needs an angel to keep us on the ground if it means anything. Man, I just don't want to see you .. you know what I mean. You're my best friend."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will keep quite, he knows when it is time to keep his yapper shut, well most of the time at least. He busy himself, with taking the person in the other room food. He grabs one of the surgial masks, putting it on to help hide his identity in case they aint letting him see their faces. Sam does not make small talk, but apologizes he needs to handle some things. He does make sure the patient gets the plastic silverware and paper plates.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy looks at Summers, at Worthington and the wise man that is Sam doing delivery rounds and not offering extra. "All logical choices, Scott. But I'll also point out, that what we were in, was one of the bible belts of America." He points at Warren with the fork. "Very, very useful in some ways. Particularly if the kid is in crisis. We can prepare for scenarios that could go FUBAR, but discounting that kind of grace and latitude may not be wise either." He glances at Warren. "Keeping in COMM contact through Jean, he might actually make or break a trust moment."

Archangel has posed:
Warren just looks at Scott, a cold fire behind those blue eyes as Scott 'makes his case' for why he isn't taking the winged mutant again. "Don't blow smoke up my ass, Scott," he finally says turning to go back to his steak. "Just call a spade a spade, you don't want the liability of me turning into Archangel and causing a massacre. Fine. I get it, but you know HE would have been much more help last night." Warren cuts off another bite of his steak and shoves the meat into his mouth to chew.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will give it a few moments to see if he hears a fight starting in the med lab. Amongst most around the mansion, Sam would step up, and try to stop it, but he knows this would be like someone stepping between him and Berto or him and Jay. So he lets the Third Xavier brother get between them

Cyclops has posed:
"You think I care about those bigots? I'm sending Logan for pete sake! That man can't go twelve hours without sticking his claws in someone's chest. This isn't about you murdering people, it's about /you/. I don't want to see my best friend being this .. machine .. that Apocalypse turned him into, okay? I don't want to lose you again. I don't even want to take the chance."

"Not helping, Hank." The field leader says with frustration as he is ganged up on by his two best friends. He looks over to Sam next, almost expecting him to jump in as well. When he doesn't, he turns back to Hank and Warren, then rubs a hand along his face. "Fine, Warren, you can come. Fine." He says as he throws his hands up in the air and starts for the door.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy says in a soft tone, "I was actually trying to do just that," but the chastizing done, he does actually know how to keep schtumm and not rock the leadership boat. He merely looks at Warren with a couple of dart-motions with his eyes. Say something. This is all on you right now! Says the eyebrow.

Archangel has posed:
Looking from Scott to Hank and back Warren lets out a sigh. "If you are that worried about it, then fine Scott. I'll sit this one out and I won't go. But... by your logic I shouldn't go on any missions again, ever. So we need to find an acceptable balance because if we can't it sounds that in your perspective I will always be a liability in the field. Maybe not to the team, or the mission, but to...me, and if that is the case then..."

He sighs, looking down to his plate and tossing his fork aside as he appears to have lost his appetite.

"...I quit as an X-Man"

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy facepalms with an extremely loud **SMACK** and a shortly muffled groan.

Cyclops has posed:
Turning around, Scott looks even more frustrated. "I'm not kicking you off the team! I just need you to have a cool down period. That's all I'm asking of you, Warren. You're not a God damn liability, okay? You never have been and you never will. Just, come on man, try and see things through my eyes. All of my best friends have have had something terrible happen to them and I can't .. I can't help you guys, okay? Apocalypse turned you into a monster. Hank turned himself into a blue furry .. mutant. Jean .. God.. Jean has a cosmic God inside of her that will destroy the universe on a whim if it gets bored. I'm waiting for Bobby to wake up one day and something terrible happen to him. I can't do anything but sit back and watch the people I love .."

There is tension built up inside of him, squeezing his hands. "And last night, that guy put a gun straight to that woman's head and he pulled the trigger without even thinking twice. Just because she's a mutant. I don't know how Alice and Shannon snuck on this trip but I don't want our kids thrown into that. I'm just .. I'm /tired/ okay? Of all of that. I believe in Xavier's dream but I am tired of seeing my friends hurt tring to achieve it. Look at what we've given up? Our bodies, our souls .. ethics .. I put Victor Creed out in the field for fuck sake." He pinches his brows, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment, then sighs.

"Sorry, sorry.. Warren, you're right, you can come. It's fine. I'm sorry, okay?"

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie is examine the readouts on the thingamajig and comparing them to the whatyamacallit . These things need monitored and Sam is doing it, can't have them going out of sink and causing a kerfluffle. Or at least the way Sam's checking them it seems to be an important job. This is one of those times teleporting would be a handy power, but being quiet he figures is his best way to not intrude on this conversation.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy drags his hand down his face, his glasses sliiiiiiiding all the way down to the end of his nose and just looks at his original team mates, one by one by one. Optical tabletennis and this hand right here? It's staying over his mouth. You hear me, Hank? Yes self, I hear you loud and clear. Don't. Blather.

Archangel has posed:
"I know you didn't, Scott. I did."

Warren winces slightly as Scott uses the word monster, looking back over to his friend and team leader. "The thing is, though, you're not wrong. As much as I loath to admit it, I AM a monster. At least some of the time. Even when I am not /him/, he is still there whispering in my head. All it takes is a lack of control and he will grab on. Maybe my days of being out on the field are over, and maybe that is better off for everyone. It's fine though, I've got enough on my plate right?"

Cyclops has posed:
There is a wounded look upon Scott's face and he looks towards Hank now for support. He puts his hands out, giving a motion towards Warren a few times, then lets out a long sigh.

Rogue has posed:
The doors swoosh open to allow the entry of Rogue, who had been here earlier but then needed to skedaddle for one reason or another. Now she's back, cause she said she would be, and what Southern Belle goes back on their word. However, even having not heard a single thing from any of the current conversation, she can tell the tension in the air is *thicc* and this has her frowning just a bit. She walks further in, looking between Warren, Summers, Hank and Sam - then tries her best to put on a smile. "Hey y'all. Did I - ah - come at a bad time?"

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy's hand drops from his mouth, with but a brief look of dither about him, he reaches to his left temple and sticks one index finger there to turn slow circles, taking ridges of skin with it at the pressure. With his other hand he holds a finger up, gestures it in a SILENCE! motion at Scott, then Worthington and then thin air in between both, letting the hand fall back down to grapple with the edge of his table, where his steak and tater are half-et and all lonely for company with the rest of them in his stomach. Later, lunch. Later. "Feelings..." he starts, then stops with a grunt. "Scott. I understand where you come from nearly all of the time. You take it all on you, which I hate to say it buddy, isn't teamwork. The team takes it. What we do is learn from it and grow to be more effective. You know full well, that half the time you don't even need to tell me to do something, I'm already doing it even as you ask it. But that puts a lot of the onus on me too, to be capable of taking care of myself and trusting that when I can't, others have my back. I do also need to trust that you're not going to think it's always your fault, because /none of it is/. No plan ever survives the first encounter with the enemy -you- taught me that. SO how the hell can you plan for something you can never fully control?"

And then he looks to Worthington. "Warren, I also understand where you're coming from. Apocalypse has done a number on all of us from time to time, but you, he hit particularly hard. But if you go off and leave, the very support structure that you have that could help you -not- cave in at the wrong moment, isn't going to be there any more and that too, is not very logical. There doesn't have to be an either or. In /either/ of your worldviews."

Archangel has posed:
Warren sighs, adjusting on the bed and starting to try and lay down, but the splinted wing gets into his way. With a bit of a snarl the billionaire starts to grab at the dressings covering his injured wing in a effort to free himself from the bindings. He snorts at Hank, "He turned me into the personification of Death, Henry. That isn't 'hard', that is obliterating. Scott's right, with that always being just under the surface what other choice do I have? It was different when I was always him, I didn't always have control but it was something I was use to. Now? Now it's just a waiting game to see when, not if, but when he grabs control, and when he does I don't know if I can control what happens. I've been pushing it under the rug for far too long, and Scott, even though he may not have meant to, just brought it all to light...obviously I am not the only one that worries about it, so what other options do I have?"

Rogue's entrance goes somewhat unnoticed by Warren till she speaks, and he glances over at the southern belle. "Besides," he continues, "With Sam and Rogue what do you need me for, really? Both of them fly, and both of them are invulnerable, not to mention that they don't have a chance to go all homicidal on you."

Cyclops has posed:
"Warren, come on, man." Scott says as he lets out a loud sigh. His face is pained and emotional, which is a rarity for the stone faced field leader. "Just like what Hank said. The three of us are on the same wavelength in almost every situation. We have synergy. You don't need to be invulnerable. You have experience. I depend on you. Look, I'm sorry for being all up in my feelings. It's not easy for me to, you know this. You know this /better/ than most people."

He reaches out to steady him for a moment as he gets frustrated with his bindings. "Have Jean work with you if need be. Maybe there is something she can with all her power now. Unravel whatever it is he did to you. But I need you on this team, okay? I /need/ you. Hank is right, as always, about everything. I need both of you to help me as well. I can't carry this weight by myself."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie sighs and looks to Warren, and says "And you want to leave the mansion? I seem to remember you were one of the people who trained me, and while I have tried to pass that one, your the best we have at teaching agility while flying. You want to leave the X-men, fine your choice. I think if you need time off from the battle, embrace the teaching. You gotta remember something Warren, even when he was in control, your friends, your family did not leave you, and they aint going to now. You want to say we have to worry about you going homicidal, well I can think of a handfull of guys that fits on the team. You want to fight him, you want to make sure Warren is in charge than don't run away from the things that make you Warren. Dani tells the story of the two bears, which one you going to feed?"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue blinks, looking between the others one by one and then lifts a gloved hand to scratch at the back of her neck. "I ain't got a horse in this race, Warren, cause I don't know you all that well...but Scott an' Hank are right. If you're a link in the chain, then losin' ya is only gonna weaken the chain...and it seems to me you're a pretty important link to have." She wrings her hands together and lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "'Sides, I may wake up one day and not be able to fly, or be indestructible...I could lose these powers at any moment. All or one, or none, but there ain't no tellin'. What I really think is the three of you should all take a breath and step back from this. Cause it sounds like you're all just beaten at a topic and ain't a one of ya budgin' right now. Take some time to clear yer heads, think things through...not like anyone's jerkin' y'all to make choices right now." She won't re-hash what others have said, like having help from others, but just throws her two pennies in - for all they may be worth.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy opens his mouth and takes the better part of valour. Imagine that! Even when he's brought in on being one of the three. He is, after all, but he was the one of the other two that wasn't being one of the two! Honest.

Archangel has posed:
Warren sighs as gives up on trying to tear the bandages from his wings, using his fingers to rake through his disheveled hair instead. He looks tired, "I didn't bring any of this up, he did." tossing a nod over Scott's way. "I just took it to the logical conclusion."

Finding a way to lay on his side where the wing isn't in the way, the sometimes angel curls up on the bed and shuts his eyes for a long moment before he speaks. "Fine...I'll talk to Jean or someone. I think that bridge has already been crossed, but I guess there isn't harm in trying again."

Cyclops has posed:
"I shouldn't have said anything, Warren. I'm just trying something new, which is speaking from my heart. I'm not good at it yet." Scott gives his shoulder a firm squeeze. "Talk to Jean, let's figure out what we can do. I'm sorry." He says again before he turns and passes by Sam and Rogue. He gives them a small nod, then gives Beast a squeeze on the arm gently before he heads out the door. He looks drained and defeated, as opposed to the 'anchor' of this team.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will move to get the food tray and leave with Scott in case the other man needs an ear, letting the beauty and the beast stay to talk to the angle.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy gives up on the potato, but spears the steak on his fork. He surrenders the plate before Sam exits in the wake of Scott and looks briefly a bit beleageredly at Rogue, shakes his head a bit at the situation as he looks away and wolfs the remainder of his meet. He then goes to make up a dressing tray, complete with plaster cutter scissors and moves to Warren's side, setting it all down and perching on a ridiculously small round stool by the man's bed. "Everyone's a bit raw, Rogue. I've heard Warren's take on what happened in your end of the town... I'd love to hear your side. Whilst I work." And now he puts a hand gently but firmly on Warren's bicep. "ANd you. You stay still. Okay? Doctor's orders." He then proceeds to methodically detangle the bandage tressing, snipping and being careful with the stiff plumes underneath.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue frowns, shifting her gaze to watch not only Scott but Sam to walk out of the room. About to say one thing, her thoughts are derailed a bit when Hank asks for her side of how things went on the other side of town. "My side? Prolly the same as Warren's really..." She offers, lifting a single shoulder up in a shrug. "Warren and I took to the skies on approach. As the others on the ground arrived and started getting out of the cars, the...humans...started yellin' things an' throwin' lights on. So me an' Warren went an' took out the lights." She starts. "Next thing I knew, Warren got shot, Colossus was gettin' run into by a car, and then things went kinda tits up. We scared the lot of them and they went runnin'. I got Warren behind...enemy lines I s'pose I should say..." She then stops herself. "Sorry. M'ramblin..." And she pauses her talking for the moment.

Archangel has posed:
"You're recollection is going to be better than mine. You were conscious for all of it," snorts Warren. As Hank starts to remove the bandages though, Warren falls still. "Am I wrong though, Hank? I mean, he did say he didn't want me in the field because he was worried I would snap. I /heard/ that, right?"

Beast has posed:
"Thank you Anna Marie," Beast responds, leaning down to concentrate on what he's doing. Don't want to get your bandages tangled on removal and make more of a job for yourself, do you? "I have a feeling that the briefing was not entirely shared with the same level of emphasis between both teams. On our side, we were being extremely cautious not to appear as mutants, given that the homicides where being blamed on mutant activity and xenophobia and scapegoating had begun to stir the township into a powderkeg. Even still, shots got fired. What Scott never mentioned, is he was perfectly happy to kill them all and I had to save him from himself by taking as many out as I could with a tranquilizer gun and tying them up with zipties for the authorities to handle. Outside authorities that is. I don't quite know what went wrong between communications there... and I also think he's expecting the worst, because he's in a kind of mindset." Soothing feathers as he works, he ducks his head to look under a thicker bandaging area, to figure out what he's cutting and where.

"You're not wrong, Warren. But you're hearing it with your ears. And he was saying it with his brain. Wars can start when two sides say the exact same thing, but everyone hears it a different way."

Archangel has posed:
Warren Worthington shakes his head, combing his fingers through it one more time. "Maybe, Henry, but he isn't wrong. Nobody knows that more than I do. I know what is under the surface. I just...I never thought I would hear him say that to me. If he really is that worries about it, then I shouldn't be out there anymore."

He glances over at Rogue before looking back to the wall in front of him, "It would be so easy to just let go. He doesn't have any idea what it is like in my head. I fight my darker half constantly. For him to point it out to me like that? I.." He just ends with a sigh.

As Hank cuts the bandages off, he will notice that the hole in his wing where Warren took the shotgun blast has started to regenerate, but some of the feathers are not the white fluffy kind.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy is needless to say, VERY careful with those razorblade plumes. When he spots them, both hands lift away and he considers. Now he must also not make Warren's wing flinch, or unbeknownst to his old friend, he could have a finger severed. The doctor though, carries on, without judgement -- the task is to free the wing, not to consider the anomally. "My friend, you and I have known each other a very long time. I used to be quite jealous of you, with your good looks, smiles, charms... but I will note this to you now and understand that I /do not/ belittle your struggle... you can be extremely self-absorbed sometimes." He holds his hands still, just to make sure any flinches don't catch him. "You -know- that we've all got our demons, some of which indeed are a struggle just as yours are. Psylocke was transformed from a buxom englishwoman to a ninja and I can't imagine what she lost. But she pulled through. Rogue here, has her own memories and that of someone completely different in her head sometimes. Jean -died- and shares her head space with the Phoenix! We're all a hot mess, but you are unique in that you're you, but you're not unique in that there is a struggle to be faced. Scott had a very bad case of foot-in-mouth tonight, but he did not mean it like you took it... and you took it that way because it plagues your mind. Because HE is quite self-absorbed too, at times, he was worried about you losing your cool because of revenge and other powerful emotions and that you'd succumb and he'd lose someone he cares about deeply."

Hank finishes removing bandages and works at peeling off dressings with a sterile pair of tweezers. This is a much easier task. "But think about it this way: You are afraid you might lose control over Him. Speak to Dani Moonstar and learn some of her mysticism and how she handles the nightmares inside. See if James Proudstar has a few tricks up his sleeve from his people. Engage Jean, or if you don't feel like you can... there are other telepaths in the world also, who might help. There's many a mystery twixt the stars and us, that could help. Giving up on the fight though? You're braver than that. And you know how I know? Because I'm talking to Warren Worthington right now, and not Archangel. That's how."

Archangel has posed:
Warren snorts at being called self-absorbed. "Of course I am self-absorbed. I'm a spoiled only-child who was richer than 99.5% of the population when I was a teenager. It's a miracle I am not more screwed up than I already am to be honest. My uncle killed my parents, I grew wings from my back in boarding school, and I haven't had a 'real' job...ever."

Warren keeps his face turned from the work Hank is doing, maybe not wanting to look at the mess his wing is. Shotguns are not kind. "How bad is it, Hank? Doesn't hurt to bad, but I was close to point blank and I am pretty sure it got a nice hold blasted in there.

Beast has posed:
"And did you hear the rest of what I said, or are you pointedly pretending your ears are covered with all that lustrous golden hair, Warren?" Hank says in a warm tone, knuckling his old friend's upper arm gently. Then, when the last of the dressings are removed, he gently takes the leading edge of the wing and rises from his stool, supporting the limb to extend it outwards and get a good look at it all. This necessitates a good deal of it going over his head so it doesn't bonk into equipment. There IS a lot of wing after all. He eyes the cluster of living steel and peers in the radius around it.

"You know, Warren? Overall, I think this could have been a lot worse. But that being said, I think we may have found a new and unusual way that your Other can be unctuous. He appears to have had a small hissy fit with the spot where you got the most angry lead, possibly in a fit of oh... I don't know... pique just doesn't seem to have the right weight to it."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue just stands there, not really watching anything, but not not watching either. Could be the sight of wounds makes her sickly, could be the sight of this particular wound makes her remember. As Hank begins to give examples of others who fight demons in their heads (and anything could be considered such) she bites on her lower lip. "The Blue Meanie(tm) is right, Warren. For me, it's the people in the past whom I've taken things from. Some of them leave...others stick around. A couple...actually...right now." She looks down at her hands then, clenching her fists a bit. "But Sam said it best too. We're all here for you. For you and for him. Archangel. We're a family...and at the end of the day, ain't that what really matters?" Her fists unclench and she frowns at them, before looking over to Warren. "Stumblin' ain't failin'...sometimes it's easy to forget that."

Archangel has posed:
"There was more? I was too busy being self-absorbed to listen about anything other than how self-absorbed I am," smirks Warren. "No, I heard you, Hank. I just...yeah. You're right, I should go talk to somebody. I don't know if Jean is a good choice. To close to the situation maybe. Dani maybe. I don't think they have mutant shrink in the yellow pages though. Hell, are the yellow pages even a thing anymore?"

He glances over at Rogue, "Yeah, my bitchfest must make me look like a total loser to you, doesn't it. Spoiled little rich kid whining about his issues from his ivory tower...but thank you."

Warren finally looks over at his wing, and is silent for a long moment as he process what it is he sees.

"Well...shit."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy grins, taking the tweezers and thinking better of it. He grabs magellan forceps instead, to give himself a bit more of a distance and a helpful 'l' shape for underneath the wing manoevering and reaches up to take one of the metal feathers so that he can .... wiggle it. Not pull it. Just wiggle it. To see if there's any reaction. He also daintily probes with the skill of a doctor, moving away other spots of healing flesh with care, to see if there's anything else strange. Like the colour of the skin underneath, for example.

"Bit odd. Kind of ruins the aesthetic. Part of me wants to pull one, but I fear if I do, I'm going to get shot at by a different one, reflexively... so maybe lets not." He looks out from the shadow toward Rogue.

"What she said. Also, let it never be said you're not without your uses, Warren. I have benefited a time or two from the depth of your purse strings. Medical school had some unexpected expenses here and there, after all. Shameless exploitation for the win!"

He shuffles out from underneath, closing the wing and bringing it in to where it naturally sits, albeit in a bit of a soggymop position. Looking to Rogue and back, he inquires "So. Other than well, just about everything... how are you feeling?"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue scowls a little, letting fierce green eyes meet the man seated on the table. "Ain't no one sayin' that, and if that's what's goin' thru your head, you can rip it right back out.." She says, hands on her hips. "You got a right to complain and bitch and moan, but we also have the right to push back against what you're bitching and moaning about. Your brain ain't the only one that has a say in all this." This much more and then she takes a breath. Then she looks over to Hank and flusters a little bit. "Rich kid in his ivory tower my ass. You sound more like a baby who's gotten their candy taken away." Huff. Puff. Southern temper at it's finest. She nods to Hank. "M'fine. Alive. Which is about most I can say right now considerin' how the last week has been..."

Archangel has posed:
The metallic razorblade that masquerades as s feather wiggles easily as Hank prods it with the forceps, looking loose enough to pull like a tooth ready to come out from an adolescent. As Hank moves it, there is no other reaction from it, nor the three other feathers of the same mixed in with the organic looking feathers. The 'skin' where the feather is anchored has a tinge of blue, but only at the anchor point. "Yeah, I knew it. Scott, you, Bobby, and Jean just kept me around for my checkbook. This is a night of truths! It's all out in the open this evening!"

Warren glances over at the now visibly upset Rogue and raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Woah, sorry. I was kind of trying to make a joke there. Guess it came off wrong. I was just trying to make light of my own situation there. I honestly do appreciate the support."

Warren looks back to Hank, then to his wing, starting to reach out a hand to poke at it himself. "How does this even happen?" he asks, mostly to himself. "I don't understand how the feathers change."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy rolls his lips into his mouth as Rogue goes off on one, sidelong glancing Warren as he takes that one right on the nose. He coughs. "Yes, aahhh, right. Sorry." He gestures between himself and Warren with one hand. "We've a history of occasionally mocking one another in jest. Actually, that's all because of our history. I sometimes forget that we've been here so long we've got lichen on our sunny sides -- early days, it was so very often about Jean and Scott, because Xavier, for all his great works, also played favourites and denied it all the damn time." He looks down at Warren. "Warren, Bobby and I sometimes ended up just sort of hanging around in the background, so we picked up a bunch of little habits. It was weird for Angel and I, too. He had his wings and good looks and I had agility, but neither of us had the wallop of Scott and Jean, or Bobby's cryokinetics, which were extremely flashy. I ended up throwing myself into learning and at some point, had a thesaurus and the entire encyclopedia britannica, along with about a dozen dictionaries surgically inserted in my body. THat's why I'm a square. Literally and figuratively speaking."

Rogue has posed:
The hackles lower just as easily as they were raised, and then Rogue even further shies into herself once more. She sighs, lifting a hand to run gloved fingers through her hair. "Sorry. I... well I meant it... but I didn't mean to come across so mean like. All I'm tryin' to say is that you're appreciated. The both of you. All three of you really. Summers' has been doin' a good job keepin' me up like Xavier did. Beast here does a good job of it too. Then I muck something up. Like earlier in the week with Jeremy. I feel like I'm on a tight rope of doin' good and bad..." Then she sighs. "Which ain't here nor there. Sorry. I'll shut up. Like I said before, I ain't got a horse in this race cause I ain't known any of you as long as y'all have known each other and some of you I've only started to get to know. So...I dunno." Rogue. You're rambling again. Shut up. So she does as she tells herself to, and hushes.

Archangel has posed:
Warren shakes his head, "No apologies needed, Rogue. Not to me anyway. As far as the rest, about walking the line? Welcome to life. Some of us just have lines that if we stray to far on the other side bad things happen. You are in good company with the likes of me. Your horse in this race is right there at the starting line with the rest of us. We, as I have been so brow-beaten into me tonight, are a team. But more than that, we are a family...and sometimes families have fights." He shrugs.

As Warren talks, the wound in his wing closes a bit more, more organic feathers fill in to replace the hole that was blasted away by the shotgun. The trio of odd metallic ones seem to be the only ones manifesting so far, and they look on the verge of molting off.

He looks over to Hank and snorts, "I thought it was that old compaq computer with the 20 whole megabyte hard drive you hounded me so much about getting with that 300 baud modem. Now you're telling me it was books? I feel cheated."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy looks with mock shame at Angel, spreads his hands and shrugs. Whaddayagonnado? "Computer was more valuable at the time old chum. Besides which, I'd memorized all the volumes." Grin. He glances up at the feathers and reaches up with the Magellan forceps again and braves pulling the losest living shiv off. Here goes nothing!

Rogue has posed:
"I'd give you a hug, but there's a Hank fucking with your feathers and I don't wanna get in the Blue Meanie's(tm) way." Rogue says and then grins. "That and, if my head touches yours, well..." Chaos may ensure. It'd be a crap shoot of who she may pull from Warren. Him? The Archangel? Little bit of both? Who knows! Then she looks at Hank more closely. "Hank he's not a science experiment. What the hell are you doing over there? Being your special science project is -my- job.." That last bit is said in a sort of playful pouty way before she actually grins and looks back to Warren. "You know, if you ever get tired of playing checkbook with these folks, I wouldn't mind a hand grab or two..."

Archangel has posed:
The feather comes loose with no issue. No reactionary firing of the other razor-like feathers or any other reaction other than it simply coming off with little to no effort, as if it was hanging on by a thread. Almost immediately an organic looking one starts to form in its place.

"Well, I would accept the hug if Hank wasn't fucking with my feathers, and the other stated reasons. Scott's worried enough about me going postal, he would probably have a conniption if there was the possibility of two of us. And you know what...I'd still risk it."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy brings the feather down, turns it in the light a few times and sniffs the end that as imbedded in Warren's wing, wrinkling his nose. "Technically speaking, I'm debriding a wound. They're falling out. Being pushed out actually, by the fresh ones underneath. How odd." He drops it carefully into a kidneybowl and plucks the others out with the same care. They're sharp! "I ... think... they're a haemolytic inversion of keratin. Basically, your blood boils and part of your mutation seems to coagulate the iron into the shaft of your feathers and steelifies them. It's very bizarre." He looks at both of them and excuses "...well, he DID ask, even if it was rhetorical!" But then, he actually shuffles aside. "You may want to drape a towel on him first Rogue, there's a lot of Warren on display."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue chuckles a little at the first thing Warren says, but when he admits he'd still risk the hug she blinks and maybe even blushes a little. "I-I mean...I'm sure there's a few people who'd not mind it but...I...uhm.." She rubs a hand against the back of her neck before Hank chimes in with his own responses to what she said. Well, to what he's seeing from the feathers, and to what she said. Then watches as Hank shuffles away and mentions something about a towel. "I... I don't know...uhm..." She steps forward then and reaches out with a hand to just...squeeze the top of Warren's closest arm. It's a thing, she's even timid about that much contact because there's always that worry in the back of her mind that sooner or later even clothing won't be enough to stop her powers. The touch is there, the squeeze brief, and then she steps back. "That's probably...that's good enough...I don't..." Shutting herself up rather than stumbling over words, she simply offers a smile. In an awkward kind of sense.

Archangel has posed:
Warren stares at Hank for a bit, "You do realize I only understood about half of what just came out of your mouth, right? I mean, I suppose I brought that upon myself for asking, so shame on me, but maybe you can explain that again in terms a spoiled rich kid with a masters in business and not science would understand?"

As Hank mentions Warren's state of dress, the billionaire looks down and chuckles. "You know, I honestly forgot I was just wearing a sheet." He gives Rogue a smile as she makes her way over and give his arm a squeeze, daring fate and reaching up to pat the back of her gloved hand once before dropping it to his side. "That's fine, Anne Marie. I'll take it with the intent that was intended. Thank you for the hug."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy rolls his eyes dramatically and it must be said, fondly. Both at the reactions from both individuals /and/ the science wording. Murmured sotto voce: "It's like I'm seventeen all over again, I swear..." but then he plucks up one of the feathers from its kidney bowl, not helping the mostly naked situation or poor Rogue by utterly ignoring the very hot angelic man on the bed with his winning smile and charms. He twirls the pinion. "Your blood is full of iron. WHen you get emotionally riled and He takes over, a catalyst reaction occurs that boils part of your blood, freeing the iron from the haemoglobin, making iron and a protein strand. Your mutation seems to then use that protein and the iron to iron-coat or steelify your feathers. These appeared around where you were shot. In pain. Fleetingly shocked and/or angry. Defense mechanisms work somewhat automatically, you see. It's a reflex of sorts."

Rogue has posed:
"Lot of times it's hard to understand what comes out of Hank's mouth. I've learned to just nod my head and smile." Rogue teases, and then she looks Warren over and shrugs her shoulders. "I mean, it ain't the way you're dressed that's the problem. I'm covered...up to my head. So it'd really just be my cheek touching you, even a little, and it could be a big problem. I gave CPR to a student the other day and...he spent a day without his powers while I spent it with them. It's...just that easy." Then, Warren says a name, and it causes her to tense for a moment in a very visible fashion. "Ah... I'm going to chalk it up to Hank using that name earlier, but if it's all the same to you Warren, I'd consider it a kindness if you called me Rogue. Please."

She listens to Hank's explanation, again, on the science stuff behind the wing. "So he's got a forge in his wing?" Rogue asks, shifting to look the wing over like it's the most interesting concept she could learn right now. And after /all/ of it, she does pause and suddenly goes. "Oh. Uh. Thanks for the hug back. Heh."

Archangel has posed:
"Oh," Warren says looking to Rogue first and nods. "Yeah, I'm sorry Rogue. I heard Hank say it, so I used it. I apologize, and will not use it again," he says with all sincerity. The billionaire purses his lips slightly, and then sighs looking over to Hank, "That made more sense. Doesn't explain the neuro-toxin or the blue skin, but that is as close as anything I have ever heard to a rational explanation for what happens. I'll just agree with your assessment given lack of other alternative theories."

Warren reaches up and combs his hair out of his face, "Nodding your head and smiling is about the best possible reaction to listening to Hank when he goes off on one of his topics. You should have seen us all in high school. There was a lot of smiling and nodding."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy points up at the ceiling. "Up there, there's a whole atmosphere that looks blue. It's not, it's actually transluscent, it just reflects the blue spectrum of light. I'm blue, because of similar reasons. You get tougher, as I recall. Something in the whole process just imbues your skin with a quality that reflects blue spectrum light. I suspect if we put you in PURE blacklight, we'd have some interesting results. You know, if I could persuade the other you to get with the program."

Hank chuckles at Rogue's comments. "Kind of yes. Birds have a hyperactive metabolism. I /suspect/ that Apocalypse hyper-accelerated some of Warren's natural abilities. Birds operate at between three and five degrees higher than we do -- and to put that in perspective, a fever of 105 can kill. TO a bird, that's normal." Gesture. "Warren's hot. What can we say?" But the neurotoxin IS tricky. "Not so sure about the neurotoxin, although I did theorize once when I was having insomnia, that it's because of the fact that you're basically a dinosaur. There were quite a few venomous dinosaurs and Avians are the direct descendents. He might have just inverted or activated a gene -- just like the gene that tells a chicken to have a beak. Switch that off and you can make it have a little muzzle with teeth." True story. They did this experiment then killed the chicks before hatching, for ethical reasons.

Rogue has posed:
"It's fine. It's just... well it's a quirk I have. Maybe one day I'll embrace that name a lot better but...there's really only a few who get away with callin' me by that other name." Rogue offers. "So, please don't take it as like... a personal attack on you or nothin'. It's just a preference, and you ain't the first I've had to correct." The first that she maybe treated a lot nicer than others but hey! Personal growth! Then she's listening to Hank rambling off again, tilting her head some. "So, if he floats in water then he's made of wood and therefore he's a witch?!" This as she nods and smiles, hoping they get the reference and her personal way of understanding that she absolutely does not understand most anything Hank is talking about.

Archangel has posed:
"I got better..." Warren retorts to Rogue, giving her a wink. "I'll refrain from making Castle Anthrax jokes though. They might be considered tasteless in present company. But seriously, not offended at all and I didn't think you were attacking me. I honestly didn't know, and if I had known I wouldn't have used it. Dead names are dead names, and I get it."

Hank gets another stare, "I want to be offended that you just called me a dinosaur, but I get it. At least I look good for someone from the Jurassic age. And it actually makes sense, as messed up as that sounds."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy smiles with TEEF at Warren. "Well, now that I've completely failed at elucidation, I shall take my leave. Detective Rachel needs my attention too and she, unlike you old buddy, doesn't have the luxury of being a super cool dude that regenerates, flies and whose methuselah grandpa was a T-rex." He salutes them both with a scout salute and an exaggerated 'stand down' pip. "Be good. And if you can't be good, at least do being bad with style." ANd he heads to the door to the other room, to do some more taxing triage.