13484/Phoenix Aftermath, Yoga Bad

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Phoenix Aftermath, Yoga Bad
Date of Scene: 12 June 2021
Location: Medical Lab - X-Men Base
Synopsis: Jean gets taken care of in the infirmary, much chatting ensues.
Cast of Characters: Phoenix, Cyclops, Beast, Nightcrawler, Storm, Rogue, Nightingale




Phoenix has posed:
The yoga had been good for as long as it lasted. The only problem being, Jean had relaxed and let her mind wander just a little bit too much for anything good to come of it. The time was roughly mid-morning when Jean had been carried in, quite unconscious, by Scott. Now, the redheaded headmistress has been laid on a bed and Hank called for.

For the moment, Jean remains unconscious. She's slightly flushed, and her breathing is shallow and quick. Her red hair appears to be full of static electricity and floats as though it has a mind of its own. On the backs of her hands can be seen reddish colored marks that resemble feathering.

The weather outside that had been clear blue skies and nice weather had, in the last half an hour changed to dark storm clouds covering it. A heavy rain had accompanied it, but has since mellowed out to a lighter pattering of rain. The clouds haven't cleared at all as of yet, though. It's odd weather, to say the least.

Cyclops has posed:
Even after bringing Jean in and calling for Henry, Scott refuses to leave Jeans side. He'll sit there, holding one of her hands if he can, looking as worried as his facial expressions can be read. There's also fear, because of what was done to try and get Jean unconscious in the first place. He doesn't like the idea behind it, and now he'll likely have to make sure there isn't any footage evident of what took place in the park.

Not much else is to be said for Scott as he sits, and waits and worries. Watching the door every so often as well, every sound causing him to wonder if the doors will swing open and help will walk through it. Otherwise...he's simply existing and hoping that Jean will be alright.

Beast has posed:
When you have a weather witch that lives in the general vicinity, odd weather isn't anything to write home about. It's worse when said witch is moody. However, all it took was the pager going off, for Hank to be dropping everything, grabbing his spectacles and heading to the medlab; after all, when you've dealt with as much as the doctor has, you don't waste time. You never know if somebody got set on fire with plasma, or got crushed under a thrown megabus. These things have happened.

The door slides open and he steps inside, eyes immediately going to Jean, reading a whole lot of things all at the same time, including the feathering on her hands and MAD hair. He's immediately hooking her up to a cardiac monitor, grabbing his stethoscope to listen /and/ do a palpation of her carotid artery, staring out into space as he counts.

"So fill me in. What exactly happened, because the brief page wasn't particularly clear. I got Jean, phoenix, lightning strike and that was it."

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt has perched himself nearby but out of the way, his eyes are closed and head bowed as if in deep thought, but if you know him you would suspect his head is bowed in prayer. His head slowly raises and he glances from Jean's unconscious form to Scott's own worried visage. "She is strong. Have faith Mein friend." He gently looks at his own strange hands clasped together and nods, "Is there anything I can do for you Scott?"

Phoenix has posed:
Jean Grey honestly wouldn't be able to blame Scott for refusing to leave her side. If their situations were reversed, she would be doing the same. Or it was Ororo or Hank in here. Or, really, for that matter, she'd be here for any of their people, really. Perhaps not immediately at their side, but here as a presence.

When the cardiac monitor is hooked up to her, the sound of the pulsed beeps is very rapid and registers as moving between 150 and 160 beats per minute. It's not holding at a steady reading, that pace, but it's not so out of synch as to be worrisome on that front too.

Cyclops has posed:
"I guess she and Ororo were out to do some outdoor yoga or something. I wasn't aware, and had been separately jogging around the lake. All I know is, I came up to Jean slowly setting things on fire, and then something pissed the phoenix off and it tried to flare to life.." Scott explains. "Jean was able to tell me to knock her out...and so I tried...but what I tried didn't work so..Storm had to knock her out with a lightning strike..." That last bit is sort of whispered, like he's just super sad that Storm had to do such a thing. It was a last resort option that had to be taken because /he/ failed Jean.

He watches Hank do his thing, and tries not to be that over the shoulder type asking every five seconds if he can tell if Jean's going to be okay. He does lift Jean's held hand to his lips - despite the publicity of it - to brush lips against her knuckles. It's never been a secret, his feelings for her, so the motion likely tracks. Then - finally - he sort of becomes aware of a question sent his way. "No, Kurt. But thank you..."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy tosses the bell of his stethoscope over his shoulder and is immediately going to the banks of machinery in here to get what looks like a smaller version of a crash cart, or a defibrillator that ISN'T for dummies. THey do have one of those on every floor of the mansion, he insisted on it, but this one can be /tuned/. He shows zero respect for Jean's dignity at this point though, ripping open her shirt with his bare hands and her bra also, removing both items of clothing and slapping a couple of gel pads to her chest; one to the side and below her heart, the other above and atop of it. There are little buttons for clipping a pair of wands from the machine to each and he keeps an eye on the monitor as he dials voltage to the paddles. "I'm doing cardioversion. She doesn't need defib, it would probably make this worse, but I've got to get her rhythm down quick and nix the damn arythmias..." He looks at Scott "...back from the bed. Everyone clear?" And assuming that they are: "Clear!" BZZZt. ANd watching. It might take one or two tries to get the right voltage to shock the tachy out of the cardia.

"Just to state an opinion here; but she badly needs the help of a couple of telepaths to have a chat with the damn phoenix, because this -shouldn't- be happening to her any more. It's been here a while... either she's fighting it to much or it's not learning the lingo right and keeps having child-like episodes of pique. Or fear. Or whatever the /hell/ this is..."

Nightcrawler has posed:
The dark elf nods, and keeps quiet for now. Hank knows he is trained as a medic, and he quietly moves to the crash cart ready to assist where he can. He averts his gaze from Jean's exposed flesh, to preserve as much of her dignity as he can. "Has she mentioned having problems lately?" Maybe to divert Scott's attention a bit, give him something to focus on.

Phoenix has posed:
Dignity be damned. Being alive is more important. The bra had been a sports' bra, considering it had been yoga she'd been doing, she'd dressed for comfort. And the shirt was a deep purple bordering on black tank top type affair. It's accompanied by yoga pants of black. She doesn't respond to Scott's kiss to, or holding of, her hand, of course. But she's presently unconscious. Then Henry does his thing with the defibrillator. Jean's back arches as her muscles all go rigid with the electrical current that courses through her heart and out the rest of her body.

With that single shock, her heartrate falls almost immediately down to something slightly elevated, but much closer to what it's supposed to be. Jean makes a quiet sound and her eyes blink open. She glances around, the rapid almost jerky motions that say when someone isn't tracking well, or really at all, when they first wake up.

Cyclops has posed:
At Hank's insistance that Scott backs away from the bed, there's a moment of reluctance and hesitation, and then the man obliges. Mostly because it's Hank. He watches for the moment, just to perhaps keep an eye on all things going on and see how it helps or even possibly hinders Jean. Kurt does well, for a moment, in distracting Scott's mind as the man with the ruby glasses glances over to the blue imp. "She's been working really hard lately. End of the school year, working on graduates moving out of the school...and likely some other things. She hasn't exactly mentioned any issues, but that doesn't mean she's not working through some..." He then nods to Hank. "Yeah... that... might be a good idea... But it would have to be telepaths who know to keep things on the downlow so rumors don't start spreading.."

Beast has posed:
"Kurt, grab a blanket from the cart," nodding toward Jean's torso, he moves around her then, his large hand steadying her shoulders with a gentle pressure as he looks down at her upside down from the head of the cot. "I'm going to check the point of impact and exit now, okay? Just breathe, Jean." And he does so, practiced at finding the anomalous texture of electrocution points, he's probably going to have to sit her up at some point to check if anything needs debriding and dressing. "Could you get me a vial of novocaine too, whilst you're at it?" also to Kurt "And a intramuscular injection tray, D&C kit and a bottle of fresh saline."

Scott is looked at there, a frown forming as he looks back at his work afterwards. "That would be Emma and Betsy. Emma could probably manage something, Betsy certainly could help. It needs to be someone of equal or higher calibre than herself, which is a very small number."

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt watches worriedly, but also pays close attention to how Hank handled the cardioversion. Note to self: Study this further. Just in case. As Scott talks about the stress Jean's been under he nods, 'Second note to self: Reduce Jean's stress. Wait that's Scott's job.

He breathes a sigh of happy relief when Jean's eyes open. Cause that is where his eyes were! Honest. On her eyes. He smiles a toothy smile, "Welcome back to the land of the living Fraulein. You had us," he points emphatically at Scott behind his back, "worried." He glances at Hank as he barks orders about blankets and grateful for something to do quickly snags one from a drawer beneath the cart and hands it quietly to Scott. His spade-like tail starts whipping back and forth is some agitation. If his eyes slip, well he is a man after all...

He's gonna end up in confession over this. He clears his throat and pointedly snags the instruction manual that is located in the drawer of the crash cart and buries his head in it. "This thing comes with instructions Ja?" Talk about change of subject!

Storm has posed:
It was a decision that had not been made lightly, the decision to strike Jean with lightning. There were no other options for her to take. If she had punched Jean, it wouldn't have worked to knock her out. And she'd had no weapons that she could have used to accomplish the task either. Ororo is soaked to the skin as she ghosts up to the door of the medbay, her long white hair undone from the braid that it had earlier been bound into and water dribbles from it to the floor. No longer are her eyes milky white, no longer does she hold her power and affect the weather. Her eyes are their usual blue now. She doesn't move to step inside, but instead stands out in the hallway, a bit beyond and to one side of the doorway.

Her arms folded but not crossed in front of her, and she wears a pair of dark purple yoga pants and a matching dark purple halter top. She flinches slightly at seeing the defibrillator be put to use, and she turns to step aside and put her back against the wall a short distance from the door.

Nightcrawler has posed:
His tail reaches down and snags the vial of Novacoke and hands it to Hank. All without looking up from the pamphlet. "Here ya go."

Phoenix has posed:
Jean Grey closes her eyes and shakes her head, as though trying to clear it of cobwebs. Or, in this case, maybe static electricity. Her head turns toward the sound of Scott's voice, and she reaches her closer hand toward him. "Scott," she whispers. She blinks her eyes open again, just in time for Hank's large blue face to appear above her, upside down. She looks up at him, a bit wide-eyed. Right. She's clearly focusing now! She nods, and closes her eyes, and concentrates on breathing. And on closing out the extraneous thoughts from outside of this room. It's.. distracting.

The point of impact seems to be right at the center of her chest. Ororo's aim had been utterly perfect in where the lightning bolt had struck her. The exit isn't immediately obvious. Around the point of impact are impressively light burns. Of the sort that could likely use some ointment and a bandage. Not much worse than a really bad sunburn. The Phoenix seems to have absorbed most of it.

Jean's brow furrows, and she shakes her head. "No," she whispers. But to what, exactly? There's a quiet snort out her nose, and then another, and another. She's chuckling. Weakly, but chuckling. "I heard that, Kurt.." She pays no mind to the potentially wandering eyes. It's a little like looking into a mirror. She's seen them before, and well, they are there on full display. Thanks Hank.

Her head turns to the door, eyes opening again. Opening to fix just to the side of the door, where Ororo happens to be hiding just out of sight. What Jean might be thinking is not obvious at all. "Ororo," she says, her voice quiet, but a little stronger than before. She wants it to carry. She utterly ignores what the three men are doing, and what they are saying, at this point. Her attention is all fixed on Storm. "Come here." There's command in those two words, but nothing of power to fuel that command.

Cyclops has posed:
"Jean..." Comes Scott's voice as he notices that she's waking up after Hank uses the defib machine on her. But then Hank is sort of poking and prodding at Jean, with the help of Kurt, so he stays steps away from the bed for the moment. There's relief in his face, but not much else as he stands there feeling almost helpless.

A moment after Jean is saying Ororo's name, he looks over to the door from hearing it open. "Ororo..." He mimic's Jean's words and then motions for her to step in further. "Please, come in. Everything is alright." Or so he's making himself believe.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy is not ashamed of the ladies being out and about. Rather clear skin and lack of clothes and a heart in the right state, than dignity and cardiac death. Yep! Utterly unashamed. He caught the novocaine, setting it and the tray(s) he asked for on the nearest wheely table, he doesn't open any of them yet, as there may be no need. Instead, he drags three pillows from nearby beds and plops them in Jean's lap, thereafter gently guiding her to sit up and rest her chest against them, so he can look at her back.

Medical expertise is being used to track the logical path of the electricity of dead center. It should be either a little above or below the impact site, possibly off to the side. It's that area that's going to need more treatment, but it won't hurt. Electrocution by lighting basically kills, cauterizes and numbs all at the same time at the exit point. That needs treatment, or when new growth is attempted it's fighting necrotic tissue. Luckily too, these tend to be small mostly circular injuries, with a few spiderwork patterns out from them with the discharge tracks.

He glances at Scott over Jean's shoulder and tries his best friendly fuzzyguy smile, which has had years to get knowledgeable, comforting and reassuring, like a fine wine, or a strong cheese, depending on how charitable you're being.

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurts tail starts whipping around the medbay picking up the injection tray with a flourish, the D&C kit in his right hand and saline in his left. When Jean calls in Storm, he nods to the woman and smiles in encouragement. Obviously, she didn't want to hurt Jean. No one would blame her. He is a bit worried that Jean might actually be mad about it. But from what he knows of Jean, he doubts she is angry. Well it's hard to say if she would be angry or not. He bites his tongue about saying something corny like, to forgive is divine. I mean he really has to bite his tongue.

Kurt looks at Scott for a moment wondering if maybe he needs to worry more about his reaction to Storm. He resists the inclination to hunch into a crouch to make himself a smaller target. His hair sort of stands on end in anticipation of more lightening bolts, or maybe a few chairs. He decides he needs to protect the medical equipment and takes up a protective stance in front of the crash cart.

Storm has posed:
It's not a bad spot to be hiding, overall. Except there's really no such thing as hiding from a telepath like Jean. Even though that's not the only person that Ororo is hiding from. She's trying to hide from everyone. Because all of this is her fault. She'd called the lightning to strike Jean. And the yoga had been her idea, too, and so to her perspective, what happened during the practicing of it also falls upon her shoulders. She isn't cold from being soaked, so that's something.

She resists Jean's request to her for only a moment, her blue eyes closing as she remains leaning against the wall outside the room. She takes a deep breath and lets it out, and there's a softer roll of thunder that passes through the dark clouds above. Emotional stability is not a thing that she's possessed of right now, but the weather does at least stay outside rather than coming inside. She shifts, moving away from the wall, and then she quietly steps to darken the doorway. She doesn't move further within the medbay. She doesn't want to be in the way. She came, sort of... just not so well on the 'here' part.

Phoenix has posed:
Here's the thing. Even if everything isn't alright in this moment, it /will/ be. Jean doesn't even look all that bad. Her eyes don't move from where they are, locked on Ororo's location even though she can't see the woman with her eyes. "It is alright," she says. She doesn't have much in the way of strength in her muscles right now, so Hank has to do the lifting. She doesn't protest as he does just that and then lays her against those pillows over her lap.

On her back, a little lower and to the left of the mark on her front is one similar, like a bad sunburn, but more diffused. Not as bad. There are similar spiderwork patterns from the discharge as are on the backs of her hands, but no dead tissue, and no small circular injuries or injuries of any other variety. The Phoenix had saved Jean from the worst of the lightning bolt that she'd been hit with.

Jean doesn't seem to be angry, but she doesn't seem to be happy either. Instead, she's in a state somewhere between the two. Maybe not quite awake enough yet to really feel anything. She glances to Kurt just long enough to raise a brow at him. She heard that too, Kurt. Jean's eyes go back to where Storm happens to be, outside the room. They follow the woman's path until she comes to darken that doorway.

Once she can see Ororo, Jean's eyes soften a bit, and her mouth curls up at the edges just a hair. "It wasn't your fault, Ro. Not the lightning bolt. Not the yoga. I /knew/, Ro. And I went anyway. That was my choice, my decision, to try."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue had been smashing up a combination of holographic and mechanical baddies in the Danger Room, so when the doors to the medical lab swished open, they revealed Rogue in costume, complete with the brown leather jacket that gave her pockets. The bodysuit didn't leave a lot of room for cell phones, keys, credit cards, or really anything. "It's never the yoga," Rogue piped up as she heard the last part of Jean's statement, "whad'cha try, Jeanie?" She asked, needing to be brought up to speed, as she rotated her left shoulder, a bit sore from the training she had been doing.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy hnnhs, his eyebrows lifting. He leans down to inspect the injuries close hand, adjusting his glasses to bring greater focus, then shrugs lightly and instead of doing debriding, settles for soaking gauze in the saline and applying that to the burn sites, covering it with tegaderm and making sure the nice cool dampness can draw any residual heat. He then drapes a gown around Jean's shoulders and hustles himself over to the records station to document all that was done; amperage, duration of shock, treatment being effective or inaffective and observations. The usual. "Kurt, you won't find instructions on cardioversion techniques in the crash cart. If you want to read up on that sort of thing, I have a cardio-thoracic medicine textbook with annotated diagrams in my room. Self-annotated, by the by." About then he gets a text message and peers at the phone, swiping his fingertip over the smartpad to send whole words single handedly, setting it back down once again.

"For what it's worth 'Roro, now we know that there /are/ a few things in our arsenal that can stop the Phoenix. I call this the silver lining of the omnipresent storm that's still going on up there." With a glance upward and then over at her. "Next time, there's also the possibility of sudden and dramatic downdraft vortex, too. Sucks the air right out of an area. Makes the head go all woobly."

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt should have known he had nothing to worry about. I mean what's a few lightening bolts among friends right? But he still watches Ro and shakes his head, "No, my friend, you should not beat yourself up. You did the best you could eh? And all is well." He turns to listen to Hank and nods, "I will borrow that book my friend. I hope to not have to do this,but should b but should know how.

His tail relieved of its burden just as Rogue enters. He gives her a toothy grin that looks downright disturbing.

Nightingale has posed:
     First, there was a big, blue flurry of fur and fuzz hustling down the corridor, en route to the lift and likely from there, the medical bay. It was enough to put Shannon on alert, though she waited patiently for a bit to see if she would be contacted first. When there was silence, she took a moment to fire off a text message to Dr. McCoy, her fingers dancing over the screen of her phone.

     <<Where's the fire, Dr. McCoy? Need a hand with anything? --Shannon>>

     Thankfully, a reply was not long in the offing. But what followed had her changing from her pajamas in to black leggings, sneakers, and long black t-shirt with a large, hot pink sequined heart emblazoned dead center, and pinning her hair up in a bun to keep it out of the way.

     <<Treating Jean for a Lightning strike. Mostly solved, but interesting obs going on.>>

     "The hell...?" She's quick to send a reply, already halfway out the door of her dorm. <<Should I join in, then?>>

     She hesitates a few moments longer; with the patient being miss Grey, it was liable to be crowded, and probably already well taken care of. Still, this was someone she regarded highly, and who had helped her more times than she could count. She owed it to miss Grey to at least try to help.

     <<That's up to you. She's awake and stable.>>

     It only took her a moment to send a reply, and all but fly down the hall for the lift herself. Whether she or her message arrived faster, would be anybody's guess at this point.

     <<Incoming.>>

     In a few minutes more, she was at the door to the medbay. It felt odd, being on this end of the deal, instead of a patient. And it felt even more strange that it was miss Grey in straits this time. She holds back for a few minutes by the doorway, to observe, and see where best help, if any at all, might be needed or wanted.

Storm has posed:
But everything isn't all right! Jean is hurt. And Ororo had caused that hurt, used her gifts to call lightning with the intent of striking Jean. With the intent of hurting her. She takes a deep breath and lifts her gaze to Jean, and then she gives a small shake of her head. "The lightning did not come by chance or by fate, Jean. The lightning came to answer my call," Ororo says quietly, her blue gaze meeting Jean's green ones. The yoga had been her idea, and she had been a bit on the pushy side of getting Jean to go along.

She only takes her gaze away from Jean when Hank bids for her attention, and she tilts her head faintly to one side at his words. "I do not think that the Phoenix had fully manifested at the time," Ororo says. To hurt her best friend even the one time had been hard, let alone the possibility of intentionally doing it again. "I do not know if it would work a second time," she comments. Then she pauses, considering the downdraft that Hank mentions, and she inclines her head towards him. "I will bear that in mind, if a necessity comes where a similar action must be taken," she adds, the barest ghost of a smile finding the corners of her lips.

Ororo's gaze turns to Kurt, and she tilts her head to one side at his words. "What ought I be doing, if not that? Jean is hurt, and the hurt is because of my actions," she says softly, her brow wrinkling. She's quiet a long moment, a slight milkiness bleeding into her eyes for a moment before it slips away. "I am sorry for the storm," she adds, for all. It is still storming, albeit less than what it had been doing. She's not far within the room, by her own choice -- she's soaked to the skin and she doesn't want to get important medical things wet.

Phoenix has posed:
"I tried the yoga," says Jean, answering Rogue's question, her tone just a hair on the dry end of things. As the gauze with saline is settled to her back, Jean discovers that she has /some/ muscle power now. She stiffens, and hisses a breath out between her teeth. The sudden cold against too hot skin is sudden and a little shocking, like jumping into water that's a little too cold to be considered comfortable. The sudden shock of it is leaked to the room, that having been as far as she'd managed to block before getting distracted by Ororo. Thankfully, that doesn't go further than this! Not that Jean's realized that she'd leaked, telepathically, yet.

Jeanie blinks at Hank's suggestion, and then laughs and shakes her head. "It kept me alive in the vacuum of space," she says. "It might not be enough to cut off my ability to breathe. Ro did right with the lightning." She glances to the door as Shannon approaches and then stops at the doorway. "You can come in Shannon. I'm past the biting stage," she says, a small smile present. Amused at herself. She is, at least, more relaxed than she's been for the last week. And modestly covered now too, thanks to the gown Hank had put around her.

"Yes, Ororo. You were a bit pushy," says Jean, responding to the thoughts she can hear loud as a clarion call. "I still could have said no. And would have had I really wanted to. But I didn't. The hurt is because of my own actions. Not yours. My actions, my responsibility. I'm sorry you had to clean up my mistake, Ro. Terribly sorry." Jean takes a breath and looks down at her lap. For a moment, there is despair and fear. And then nothing. Jean leans her head back against the pillow and closes her eyes.

Rogue has posed:
That toothy grin might look downright disturbing to most people, but Rogue had known Kurt for years, so as she walked by, she gave his tail a brush of her gloved hand, offering a smile in return, before heading to one of the empty examination beds, and hopping up on it, crossing her legs as she made herself comfortable.

She listened to everyone, a bit behind, but catching up quickly through osmosis. She had gathered that there was something about yoga, Jean manifesting the Phoenix force, and Storm bringing down a lightning bolt to help wake Jean up. Rogue thought that the Phoenix force could eat planets, but if a bolt of lightning was enough to do the trick, it was a nice tool to have in the bag.

And with her typical southern charm, she threw out a, "boy, sounds like you play rough. Next time, why don't'cha invite me to join in yer yoga?"

Beast has posed:
"I'll make sure to send it your way, Kurt." Looking up, because he can hear daisy flipflops a mile off, Hank peers over his glasses at the figure not quite committing to the doorway thing. He beckons to Shannon. "Lemons not welcome. Good eyeballs are, come have a look." At the notes, on the screen. They're somewhat interesting.

But then he's peering at Jean and frowning and Ororo and frowning more. In fact those bushy eyebrows are headbutting caterpillars right now. RARR! Left vs RIght, who will win the shove? He presses lips, nostrils flaring faintly then shakes his head slow a few times, registering Rogue's words with a flit of a smile that doesn't linger and struggling. Oh, is he struggling, /so/ hard...

"Good lords, you two knuckleheads... seriously, you're going to mope about forcing a hand and having to do what you had to do? I have about a million strategies that get constantly revised on a daily basis, on how to take each and every one of you down /if I had to/, because we're us. Things go sideways so regularly for one or another of us, that it's absolutely vital that we know how to minimized damage to ourselves and others! Beating yourselves up about it, although I know it's just what emotional overhaul does, is entirely ... it's... oh, blathering bilgewater, I don't even have words! Get a grip girls! This pile of excrement on our collective feet happens! Strategies!" pause, cough "I think I'm done."

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt Wagner sits guarding a crash cart, well he -was- guarding a crash cart, which seems silly now, so he's simply hovering nearby in case Hank needs an extra hand, or extra tail, or all three. He smiles at the hovering Shannon, before turning his attention back to the room. He is frankly in awe of Hank's skill. He wonders briefly if he will even be able to comprehend the text that Hank was telling him about. It likely would be indecipherable to him. He'll look at the book regardless but is pretty sure that what Dr. McCoy would bother to annotate would be far above his grade level.

Rogue brushes him and he chuckles at her statement about yoga being a rough sport. Not exactly sure what yoga has to do with anything, but sure it is important somehow.

Kurt acknowledges Ro's statement, but doesn't agree with her words, at all. A frown as she blames herself. "If it was one of us who had hurt her would you blame us as harshly as you blame yourself?" He shakes his head, "Non. I think not."

To Hank he asks "You do Herr Doctor? I would be interested in knowing how you would take me down? As you say?" And its not ego talking its absolute curiosity. And of course he needs to fix those things right?

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon smiles lightly at miss Grey, though her surface thoughts still registered considerable concern. "Never mind the biting stage. How are you feeling? Is there anything anyone can get you?" Ever the healer, that is one instinct she just cannot hold back--when someone in her family, adopted or otherwise, is in a pickle, reaching out is first and foremost on her mind.

     Rogue, miss Munroe, and Herr Wagner are each favored with a smile in turn, though the latter of the three also earns a look of concern at the sight of the crash cart which he guards. One finely arched brow flicks upwards, a bit of color draining briefly from her face. "Do I even want to know why that's in here?" she ventures, her voice soft, and almost hesitant. The sight of one of those carts was -never- a Good Thing.

     At Dr. McCoy's beckoning, Shannon moves over to join him, but at his outburst, stops dead in her tracks, her sneakers making a little -squeak- against the floor. "Why, Dr. McCoy, I do believe I heard you almost cuss!" It's impossible to resist teasing him, just a tiny little bit, even the gravity of the current situation unable to keep the corners of her mouth from turning upwards.

Storm has posed:
"I was," Ororo agrees, giving a small nod. She had wanted Jean to have fun, to relax, to find enjoyment in the yoga. She had thought it would be a good idea. She tilts her head a touch to one side, and then she gives a small shake of her head. "It is not your fault, and there is naught that needs an apology from you," she says softly. She's the one that should be apologizing! Her brow furrows and a frown touches her lips at the feeligs that come from Jean, and she shakes her head once. "I am sorry, Jean."

She turns her gaze to Rogue, and then she shakes her head once again. "I will provide you the studio's information," she offers. Whether or not she intends to be going anytime soon remains to be seen or found out.

There's a blink, and Ororo's attention shifts over to Henry, one of her eyebrows quirking up just a touch. And then she blinks a pair of times in relatively quick succession. She glances towards Jean for a brief moment, and the back to Henry. "In other words... excrement and accidents happen and they are beyond our control," she says softly, a thoughtful note to her voice. She steps over to Jean's bedside, then leans forward to lightly kiss Jean on one of her cheeks, one of her hands finding one of Jean's to give it a small squeeze.

She withdraws then and gives a small nod to the redheaded woman before she steps away from the bedside. And she doesn't linger, instead starting to head towards the door. "I must tend to the storm," she says softly. She gives a small nod, brief, and the she steps over to the door to leave the medbay. She brought the storm, she ought ease its path at least as much as she can. If she can.

Phoenix has posed:
Jean Grey opens her eyes again, looking more herself after she does, having gotten herself under some semblance of control. Some stability. She nods. "Next time, you can come too, Rogue," she says. She turns to Henry and raises a red tinted brow, her lips twitching as he keeps talking. "I don't feel guilty, Hank. I mean, I do, because I could have hurt someone. But that's not.." She shakes her head and looks to Ororo. "You stopped me from hurting innocent people." Because that's what had happened. Exactly what had happened.

That's not where the despair had come from at all. She does stare fixedly at Hank for a moment though. "I'm curious as well, at how you would take each of us down. But.. you probably shouldn't tell us. Your method could be guarded agaisnt if you did." Logical.

Shanno's questions have Jean actually looking inwardly. "I'm a little sore." Which is likely to be expected. She'd taken a lightning bolt to the chest. If she wasn't sore it might be a little more concerning. "I am a little thirsty," she says. "But it's okay. I can get it myself. I'm fine." Is she, really? Her lips twitch upwards at Shannon's teasing of Henry too. Frankly, this situation could /use/ a little lightening up.

"Maybe next time we should go have fun that's more active?" Her eyes have returned to Ororo. She shakes her head at Ororo. "If I don't need to give an apology, then neither do you," she states firmly. She smiles at the kiss to her cheek. "I'm okay, Ro. And I don't blame you for what happened. I applaud you for being able to do what needed to be done." She watches the white haired woman leave, and leans back against the bed. Her lips twitch at something again, but she doesn't explain.

Rogue has posed:
"Aw, Beast, don't be like that. You keep that up, and you're headin' fer a nervous breakdown, and what's yer strategy for that?" And then she hits on it, with a long 'oh' followed by a knowing smile, "ah see what yer doin', hon. You want to break down so the Professor'll send ya to one of those all inclusive stress clinics like they have in New Mexico, get some sun, play with the clay, and come back all rested, and at peace, while the rest o' us have ta save the world from Magneto, or the rapidly dwindlin' twinkie reserves. Can't let the company have another scare like a few years back, can we?"

Looking to Kurt, who asked Beast to explain how he'd plan to take the fuzzy elf down, "best not to poke the bear, Kurt. Or else he'll have to figure out a whole new way o' takin' ya down." With the offer of the yoga studio's information from Storm, Rogue beamed, "ah just might have t' go shopping. I probably don't have anythin' to wear," which was a joke, as Rogue's power meant that she probably had one of the largest private collections of yoga attire in the entire state.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy grins, this time his usual fang-filled full-on at Shannon, winks at her and looks beyond at Jean, tapping the side of his nose and gesturing the finger toward her. "Methods, plural. Never just one." But maybe sometimes, potential methods ought to be shared, because they improve preparedness for some attacks.

Now it's a curiosity that Henry McCoy tends to collect elastic bands. He usually picks them up from when the postie drops them at the gate, or elsewhere on his jogs. But he makes little balls of them. He has them in his lab, in the medlab, in his rooms, in his classrooms, because you never know when you need a stretchy blue ring for something or other, even if it's to twang one at a student that's not paying attention. He rolls a small one of them into his hand from the computer desk and smiles at it, glancing over at Kurt for a moment, then looks to Rogue, tilting his head at her and addressing that.

"I don't usually get stressed out about things like that. It's a challenge. Conniptions make my little grey cells fire faster. Nothing like a conundrum, a vexation and a seemingly impossible gordian knot of problem plethoras to get my brain all fired up."

He beans the rubber band ball fast-ball and with blink-and-you'd-miss-them agility and reflex, at the far wall at a very specific angle, likely mathematically calculated. Bounce, bounce, BONK, it hits Kurt in the mid back. Mind, it's just a little ball so barely stings. "Distract... and deploy Chicklets. Distract and deploy."

Nightingale has posed:
     Still smiling lightly at Dr. McCoy, Shannon busies herself reading the notes on the situation at hand, her brows furrowing. She glances briefly between them and miss Grey, and back again, lining up information in the notes in her mind, with what was actually in front of her in the flesh. "I've seen the Phoenix out in force, and it's... formidable, to say the least. But I've never seen feathering pattern like that on miss Grey's hands, except as henna designs done deliberately."

     She lets out a soft sigh, caught up in a moment of bittersweet nostalgia, rippling from her like waves from a rock thrown into a still pond. "The summer the year before I manifested, my then best friend of the time made designs like a phoenix curled around my right forearm in henna, and it looked something like that."

Phoenix has posed:
Jean Grey smiles as she listens to the conversation going on around her. She turns her head a bit, nestling her cheek against the pillow, and closes her eyes. She looks.. relaxed, more or less, like she hasn't a care in the world. With the wash of conversation going on around her, Jean dozes off. Comfortable, for the time being. More, she feels safe with the people who are here.

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt Wagner

Rogue has posed:
Rogue didn't exactly get what you'd call a formal education, running away from home after her powers manifested, but before that, she had been a good student, not great, but a good one, and she got a lot of learning from Mystique and Destiny, after they brought her in, before getting a bit more from Xavier's School. So, every once in a while she could surprise people, as she may have when she said, "well Beast, from what ah remember from my history books, Alexander cut that little old Gordian knot with his sword. Sometimes the simplest solution is the best one, ain't it? "She smiled as the rubber ball was hurled, watching it go sailing past, and laughed, covering her mouth with her gloved hand for fear of upsetting Kurt, as she enjoyed the playful teasing a bit more than she'd like to admit. "Are ya all right, Kurt?" She asked, figuring he was, but just checking in on the fuzzy elf to be sure.

"That's the understatement o' the century," Rogue commented as Shannon asserted that the Phoenix Force was formidable. "There ain't nothin' the Phoenix can't do once it sets its fiery mind to it, now is there?" It was strange living under the same roof as a celestial being that could wipe out every living thing on the planet if it wanted. Rogue thought she was tough, but she didn't have anything on the Phoenix Force.

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt Wagner relaxes a ton as soon as the girls kiss and make up, literally. His demonic grin lighting up his face for a long moment, then the conversation bounces around about weather he should study Hank's method, so as to improve his techniques of staying alive.... "Ahhh but I always am ready for the slightest thing, I just don't think it would be so very easy to stop me from just... you know... And then a rubber ball is bouncing around the room and before he realizes it it spanks him. He blinks... His yellow eyes narrow..... as he tries to make sense of what just happened. "So.... You can take me down with a rubber ball?" He shakes his head, "I am... a broken man. A broken man."

Beast has posed:
"Quite," and for a verbose man, that's a concise response. Hank bobs his eyebrows up and down at Rogue and grins, looking at Kurt afterwards and opening his mouth, forming shapes with lips. It culminates in licking his bottom lip and rolling it into his mouth, between his teeth a moment. "Squashballs can knock people out, you know. If beaned hard enough. Never underestimate the power of galvanized rubber, or you know, a well aimed rock. But yes, fear the power of the rubber band ball!"

With a glance to Jean, Hank's features soften a little, fur in some places fluffing up a bit, then he looks at Shannon sidelong and nods, looking back at the computer screen. "I didn't have that kind of girly fun when I was a young whippersnapper, walking around in my mom's shadow. Hells bells, I didn't even dabble with her make-up. Strangely, I was a child with a lot of aquaintences and very few friends to be chums with. Mind, I did a lot of being an idiot with the friends I had-- it always made me feel a bit better about myself, doing stupid stuff."

Cyclops has posed:
Scott Summers has been sleeping. Dozing. Something. To the point that he's entirely missed anything going on up to this particular point of him waking up. For a moment he almost panics, in that sort of just waking up don't readily remember where or why he is...until he remembers where and why. A glance over to Jean, to those around her bed, and he just stays silent - shifting a bit in the chair he dozed off in - and peeks around the room at who all has managed to fill the medical lab since he's been out.

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt Wagner picks up the ball from where it bounced off his bum and squeezes it in his three fingered fist for a moment, "Huh. You know... If it was a sticky bomb..." He clears his throat as he realizes another way he could be taken down. He shudders a bit and puts the rubber band ball in his coat pocket. Hank has lots of them laying about so figures he won't miss it. He glances at Rogue and nods, "I am fine. Only my pride is bruised. And that is a good thing. Cause pride leads to envy that leads to anger, that leads to hate, that leads to....." He nods, "I think that was a Star Wars quote.... Yoda." He rambles a bit then yawns tiredly, as the day starts catching up to him.

He looks at Hank and nods, "It always surprises me that I survived my youth. We are so sure of our invincibility Ja?" He sighs. "To be brought so low by something so small as a bunch of rubber bands." Then he smiles almost a feral grin, "If you have faith as a grain of mustard seed..." He nods, "Bullets are pretty small too."

Nightingale has posed:
     "I never had a lot of friends either, Dr. McCoy," Shannon replied, her own mood slipping into something along the lines of pensive. "I was lucky to really have the one best friend--and when I manifested, helping her, she turned her back on me. It was hard enough making friends before, but after..." Shaking her head, she ruffles her wings slightly, settling them against her back with a light little flick. "Even here, it's been... a little hard for me to make friends, and the few I do make, tend to disappear pretty quickly. Y'all are the closest I have. And you know what? I'm damn proud of it." Still, a tinge of loneliness remains threaded through her voice and emotions, always there just on the surface.

     Still, the whole thing about henna gave her a thought, and she purses her lips, looking once again at the marks on miss Grey's hands. "All that maudlin business aside, though, could the marks on her hands be a deliberate print left by the Phoenix somehow?"

     Glancing over to Herr Wagner, Shannon actually smiles somewhat, brows flicking briefly upwards. She adjusts her voice to an oddly gravelly, raspy tenor uncannily like a certain little green Jedi Master. "Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."

Phoenix has posed:
Jean Grey takes a deeper breath, and her head moves just a little bit. She doesn't open her eyes just yet, though. "So sayeth Yoda," she says softly. Now she opens her eyes to look at Shannon. She had missed the bit about the marks being left deliberately by the Phoenix, but it's a good idea. And entirely plausible as well as possible. She'd missed that question, but the thoughts are there to read easily on the surface. It's what's being thought about.

She lifts her left hand and looks at the back of it. Her expression is thoughtful. "It would be the first time the Phoenix has marked me.." And then she realizes what everyone is talking about. Childhood. Jean shivers, visibly, and looks away from the others, locking down whatever thought is going through her mind. Jean looks like she might be about to say something.. and there's the inhale that comes right before someone speaks. And then an exhale, and no words.

Rogue has posed:
Getting up from her comfortable seat on the vacant examination table, Rogue walked straight for Hank, teasing his fur and blue ears with a gloved hand, the closest she can get to giving him a hug without risking an accident, "Hank, you have lots of friends now, and if anyone's earned being an idiot around us, it's you. Be as smart or silly as ya want around us, 'cuz we're not goin' anywhere, sug."

Moving along in the lab, she went to one of the cupboards, opening the door, and bringing back two warm fleece blankets, one she would unfurl around Scott, and the other for Jean. It was cool in the lab, and it might help them rest up. As she drapes the blanket over Scott, Rogue smirks at the Star Wars quote by Kurt, "at least it wasn't from the sequel trilogy, because quoting that is fightin' material, hon."

Listening to Shannon's monologue, Rogue approved, nodding along, and showed in her body language that she was receptive and encouraging of it. Perhaps Rogue sensed a bit of a kindred spirit, between the efforts to prove herself, to make friends, but that underlying sadness. She was about ready to drape one on Jean, but then she was lifting her arm and coming around, "ya want a blanket, hon?"

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt Wagner smiles at Shannon and is quite impressed by her impression of the Jedi Master. He nods, "We should do a Star Wars night soon. I haven't seen all of them. Or in order." he admits.

To Rogue he laughs softly, "There's a sequel?" Oh dear. He watches a bit worriedly as Jean wakes up and say's, "May I look Jean?" Curious. He has some understanding of runes... at least angelic ones. And he might be able to discern if the markings are demonic, at least its possible?

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy ducks his head to the ruffles of the Rogue, pssshawing and batting a large mitt in her direction, sidelong-glancing at her with a smaller, also trademarked, but entirely less beaming kind of smile. "Shucks, Rogue, you'll make me blush purple. But all silliness aside, I embrace who I am now. I used to try and fit in, dumb myself down to not stick out so much. We all do daft things, sometimes."
    And to Kurt he gives a solemn nod. "SOmething so small can do a lot of damage. But I never would. My whole strategy of Justincase, has always been just to try and take down, not terminate, but I'm sure you realized that. I'm waffling. I do that when I'm slightly nervous."

Pushing up off the stool before the computer rather in a start, he looks down at the pager that just went off in his grip and stares for a few long moments. "I'm sorry my friends, I have to step out. Shannon, I would be obliged if you vibrate yourself with coffee and keep an eye on things in here, I have to go to .... a thing." A thing? A thing. Maybe he'll share later. "Jean, you're not allowed out of here until at least 12 hours have passed, ok? Just for all of our peace of minds. You too, Scott, for other reasons." Pause, glance to Kurt. "Actually, Kurt, if you're okay with it, six hours a piece for you and Shannon. I'm sorry..." he seems less than his usual self and there is a brick wall in his brain at the moment, filled with a whole lot of algebraic equasions, minutiae of the stages of triage and for some reason, flavours of tea and ice-cream going on behind those blue eyes. He exits calmly, but quickly from the medlab.

Cyclops has posed:
Scott Summers eyes Hank as the man leaves after telling him he can't leave the medlab for twelve hours. 12?! How in the world is he supposed to survive in here for twelve hours doing nothing! The blanket that Rogue draped over him is pulled up and he tucks himself into the chair a bit more. "I have things I could be working on. There's reports to file and vehicles to look after. Plus there's a couple of students that want to talk to me - for some reason..." Then he looks over at Jean and that sort of sobers him up a little.

So he shifts, the blanket moved aside a moment, and Scott stands before walking over to Jean's side. He reaches to take her hand - feathers or not - and gives it a little squeeze. "You feeling alright, Jeanie?" Asking this, as if she hasn't answered that question a few times at this point likely. "Maybe we can send one of the babysitters for food...are you hungry?"

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt Wagner glances sideways at Hank and nods, "Ja. I can do that." The man has given him a lot to think about, and his hand goes into the pocket, his fingers wrapping around the ball, like a talisman. He turns and grins maniacally at Jean and Scott. The Sadist. He actually might enjoy playing jailer. He glances at Shannon and say's, "Would you like first shift, or second?" Of course giving the lady the choice. Kurt is always a gentleman.

Nightingale has posed:
     "I'm fine with either one, Herr Wagner," Shannon replies, smiling lightly. "I'm familiar enough with the beds in here, so I could borrow one for a nap if need be. At least I haven't got any studying to worry about for today." She just smiles, deferring to those higher up in seniority than herself, out of sheer habit if nothing else. But mostly for the moment, she keeps silent, more than happy to drink in the company of what friends she had.

Phoenix has posed:
Jean Grey glances up at Rogue as she comes over, and nods. "I'd like that, thank you Rogue." There's a sadness in her eyes, a memory from long ago. She's distracted from that, thank heaven, when Hank's pager goes off. Or, rather, at his reaction to it. She nods about her running orders. "Twelve hours. Okay." Jean doesn't even argue. One, she knows it won't do her any good. Two, it would be an argument she's going to lose. Three, it's better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. Jean's eyes follow the doctor as he leaves the medical ward, her expression thoughtful.

Her head turns to look at Scott. "If you want to work on reports, send someone to get them and bring them back." Jean looks thoughtful again, as though she's contemplating doing just that for the reports she has left to file for the day. It's early, and she'd taken a break only for this to happen! No wonder Jean doesn't take much time off of what she perceives as her duty. Something, anything, to distract her.

Jean's hand is taken easily enough. The feathery marks on her hands actually have a slight texture to them, almost like they'd been burned there. Which, in a way, they had. She shakes her head. "I'm not hungry. Thirsty a little, but not hungry." Then she realizes he'd asked something else. Her head is so terribly not here right now. "Yeah. I'm alright. Just..." She shakes her head and clams up again.

She shows no favor toward which of the jailors she'd prefer first. In fact, she doesn't seem inclined to leave at all, at present. "I'm okay, Scott." Maybe if she says it enough times, she'll convince both him and herself?

Rogue has posed:
"Star Trek's better. There are still more good ones o' that than there are bad ones." Rogue quipped to Kurt about the Star Wars night. It was depressing that she had lived long enough for there to be more bad Star Wars films than good. She turned her head just a bit away from Beast, but kept those bright green eyes on locked on him, "purple huh. Ah like a challenge." It was now her goal in life to make the good doctor blush purple. As he made a hasty retreat, Rogue narrowed her eyes at the man, doing her best Wizard of Oz impersonation, "Ah'll get you Dr. McCoy, and yer little robot dog too."

But then Cyclops was squirming in his blanket, protesting, "ya do, and ya will, but not now. Yer place is here." She gently reminded him, as Scott and Jean had what she could never. She wasn't about to let them squander it. And at the mention of food, "no need." Striding towards a desk, she'd pull out a drawer, "nope", then another, "not here," and on the third try, she pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.

Hopping up on the table, she seemed to like to do that, she would cross her legs, and use the top one to hold the pad of paper. Pen in hand, "takin' all orders. Fearless Leader, yer up first." She repeated it in turn, next asking Jean, Kurt, Shannon. When she had everyone's order, she'd place the pen down on the table beside her, rip the page off, folding it, and tucking it neatly into her jacket pocket. "Back in a jiffy."

Cyclops has posed:
Scott Summers lifts that taken hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles again. Damn to the depths if there's a crowd of people to see the motion. Scott is /worried/ and so he's more concerned on making sure his Jean is okay rather than keeping any sort of PDA to a minimal. Either way... there's a look to Kurt and he smirks just before Rogue is off to the races taking orders. He's got half a thought before he says, "Wait Rogue..." Shifting with one hand to reach into his pocket, take out his wallet to grab a credit card - all with the single hand - then returns wallet to pocket and offers card to Rogue. "Use this to pay for everything."

Then he's glancing to Shannon and Kurt, giving a bit of a smile. "Well, I think I'm going to move the comfy chair a bit closer to the bed so I can have a spot next to Jean." Whom his attention goes back to finally and after a moment. A thumb brushes over those feather indentions before he smiles at her. "Of course you're okay. You're going to be fine. Storm and Hank took care of you in their own ways..." He didn't. He failed. That thought is written all over his face, even if he doesn't say it aloud. When she clams, he frowns. "What is it Jean? What's on your mind?"

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt Wagner pouts a bit as Rogue gets the pizza order. He orders sausage and onion. He doesn't think there's much sword fighting in Star Trek so he just shrugs his shoulders a bit, undeterred in his desire to see the all the Star Wars movies. Kurt smiles at Shannon, if you are sure, then you can take first watch?" He nods, "But if you get tired, please make sure you wake me."

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon smiles lightly at Kurt, taking her time to parse out a reply in her mind. The reason for the delay becomes apparent, as she doesn't reply in English. "Ich bin sicher. Wir müssen aufeinander aufpassen, ja?" She glances over to Scott and Jean, letting out a light sigh, and turning to Rogue. "If we're doing pizza, I'll go for some mushroom and onion, and root beer for my soda." She smiles a bit wider, and chuckles. "You're also right, when you said the Star Wars sequel movies are fightin' words... those three movies are true abominations."

Phoenix has posed:
Jean Grey lifts her eyes to look to Rogue, pulling the blanket around her shoulders a little bit. "I think I agree. Star Trek is the better." She glances to Kurt, expression thoughtful. "If you want sword fights, you should try some of those Chinese period dramas. Lot of martial arts and sword fighting in those." She watches as the pad of paper is retrieved by Rogue and orders are taken. She considers what she'd like and shrugs. "I dunno. Thai? Pizza? Cake?" She pauses a moment, eyes thoughtful. "Hm. Pizza. Sausage, pepperoni, peppers, and onions." She smiles up at Scott at the PDA. There's no move in this moment to pull away. She's blushing! Her cheeks and her ears are actually quite red. Though not quite as red as her hair is.

The blush fades as she tilts her head to study him. "So did you," she says, replying to what he hadn't said but that she'd 'heard' anyway. "You didn't fail. You got me here for Hank to take care of. And you got the Phoenix so focused on you it didn't see Ro's lightning bolt coming. Without both you and Ro, the Phoenix would be loose right now."

Jean's teeth click together as her mouth snaps closed. She shakes her head. Without saying anything, she pushes the blanket back and swings her legs over the side of the bed. She uses Scott's hand to help herself to her feet, where she waivers visibly, skin paling. Her fingers tighten on Scott's hand. Yeah. She's less okay than she lets on. As is all too often the case with Jean.

Nightcrawler has posed:
Kurt Wagner steps closer to Jean's side and smiles down at the woman. He nods to Scott and say's, "Worry less. It will be fine. This will become a blessing. We learned something important Ja?" His eyes move over Jean's arms and he gently rubs his hand along her arm. Has he seen anything like this?

Shannon speaks to him in his Native language and he straightens and nods to the woman, "Ja. Für immer meine Süße" The gallant imp gives a gallant bow.

Cyclops has posed:
Scott's pizza order is simple. So simple. Maybe too simple. Cheese. Lots of cheese. All the cheese! Then he's looking around before Jean's words catch his ears and he looks back to her. He doesn't say anything, really, She's right, he knows she's right. It will just take some time for him to admit it out loud or otherwise.

As Jean stands up, waivers, and tightens her hold on his hand, Scott's about to order her back into bed when he seems to not. "Okay...come on. Hold onto me." Likely the two had a mental conversation about it and Scott's obliging even after joking with her. He'll help her walk to the bathroom - likely the medlab has one. "It's okay, Jeanie. I got you."