190/Lord, it's hard to be humble

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Lord, it's hard to be humble
Date of Scene: 28 April 2017
Location: Xavier's School, Westchester, New York
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Deadzone, Archangel




Deadzone has posed:
Getting ready for her class for the day, Tate is drinking a coffee that is sweet enough to kill a horse as she unpacks the delivery that came for the Sewing class. Music is playing in the background, the Grease soundtrack, causing the newest member of the staff to dance as she works.

Today's ensemble is a retro Gothabilly look, a swing dress in black with cherries dotted over it. As her hips sway to the music, the red crinoline can be seen under the skirt along with the seams on the backs of her stockings.

Unpacking the boxes, there are certain things that she is putting on her desk rather then in the areas for the class.

Archangel has posed:
Having returned from an extended leave for reasons he hardly felt like expanding upon in any public forum beyond 'needing time to himself,' Warren Worthington makes his return to the Institute now as simply and casually as if he had never even left. Currently dressed up in a black vest and a sky-blue, button-up shirt with its loose, dark blue tie hanging 'round his neck, his hands slide into his black slacks as he wanders the halls of the school, as if just taking stock of what's changed since he's been gone. Most everything looks the same; it's a comforting bit of consistency that puts the young man at ease. Except...

... except that sound of music. He blinks, following the distant sounds of that classic musical track until he makes his way to the entrance of Tate's classroom to find someone he certainly would have remembered seeing before. Blue eyes watching as the Goth girl dances, Archangel's brows lift, wide white wings folding inward just a bit as he leans his shoulder into the doorframe and hooks thumbs into his pants pockets. He waits, just a certain amount of time, and then pipes up, with the faintest grin:

"Wow, now this is definitely a fresh new take on Sandra Dee." His head tilts, critically. "I think I like it."

Deadzone has posed:
Tate really wasn't expecting someone being awake this early, so the voice behind her causes her to jump with a squeak. She turns around and upon seeing Warren, she laughs and gives a warm smile. "I was wondering when you were going to show up, Warren! Oh! Feathers? So you... " Apparently the fact that Warren has feather makes this new face upset or something, as she covers her smile as she seems like she wants to cry. "That's the best news I've gotten since I got here. Thank you."

She heads over to her iphone, set in the docking station, and turns the music off. "What can I do for you today, cutie patootie?"

Archangel has posed:
That jump earns a laugh from Warren to match Tatum's, warm and affable and rolling easily from him as he shakes his head. "First time in a while I've managed that kinda reaction. Dunno whether to be proud or sad," he remarks with a casual little smile, pushing himself up off the door frame as she speaks. His brows lift just a bit, head tilting to the left.

"Huh. My reputation precedes me. Guess I don't have to go through the motions of a big, formal introduction then," he remarks, and might say more... except she mentions those feathers. He looks back to the wings that rustle and stretch behind him as he steps inside, and rubs the back of his head as quiet settles over him.

"... It is?" he wonders, voice laced with brief confusion and something harder to place. "I'm... glad then. But it's not quite..." Ultimately, he just shakes his head, taking that change of subject with a slight grin.

"Oh, I was just getting myself reacquainted with the sights and I saw a new one, so I thought I'd go admire. And acquaint myself." Pearly white teeth flash with a lopsided smile as he takes in the surrounding classroom curiously. "Are you one of the new teachers--?"

Deadzone has posed:
Tatum feels that, even though Beast has told her to keep things from her world to herself, that she needs to explain. "I'm not from this dimension. Long story, but I got sent here from mine and the ... staff are a little different. But you most of all. It's.. nice... seeing you like this. It tells me some things about this world that I didn't have the heart to ask."

As Warren flirts with her, which like her he does as easily as breathing, the goth teacher tilts her head with a smirk. "As charming as ever, I see. I`m Tatum O'Neal, the new Home Ec teacher. You already have a music teacher in this world, so I lost my job and Chuck thought I could be good here."

She offers a hand out but then holds her hand up before Warren can get close. "Were you born with wings? My power sorta pushes people to their original genetic code, before mutation set in. So... your wings just vanishing might be kinda weird if you touch me."

Archangel has posed:
"Ah, gotcha." It's as simple as that; really, given the slew of things he's had to deal with since he became an X-Men, Warren's become just a bit inundated to weirdness like Tate's situation -- not that it stops him from rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat. "Kinda weird hearing about a you that's not 'you' though, y'know? Like looking in a funhouse mirror." He looks back up, and offers a smile, one only slightly tempered by the weight of history behind it as she mentions seeing him 'like this.'

"It's..." he struggles to find the words to describe his current situation, unable to properly articulate something still fresh on his mind. "... complicated," he finally settles on, offering a small, apologetic smile to cap off the words.

Still -- as things flow towards things he's much more adept at then discussing his problems, like casual flirtation, the blonde young man takes to it like a duck to water, his smile as natural as it is charming as he pushes a hand through that short mane of hair. "I like to try to be as consistent as possible," he jokes back with a nonchalant sense of ease. "I'm a sucker for a pretty face. I'm sure that weakness is so strong it'll stick with me no matter what kinda reality I'm in. Even some weird, bizarro universe."

The laughter that punctuates this is warm, before Warren starts to step in towards Tate to take her hand. He pauses at her warning, considering a moment. "Doctors say I was already born with all the... structural changes? to my physiology. I just had to kinda grow into them. Now that was more awkward than even puberty." His smile a reassuring kind, he offers up that hand as he takes one more step closer.

"Tatum O'Neal. I like it. And I guess you already know me. Should I be worried about that?" he wonders jokingly, though it makes him hesitate just a bit when he remembers her earlier words. A second passes, before he changes the subject. "Music, huh? So that explains the whole Sandy routine." A grin slips past his lips, teasing but warm. "Home Ec's not so bad, though. How've you been settling in?"

Deadzone has posed:
The new teacher can't help but laugh as her world is refered to as the Bizarro universe, because in some ways she thinks that applies more to where she ended up. She leans back on one of the sewing stations, her eyes crinkled in the corners with her smile. This goth isn't very much into the gloom and doom, it seems, just really likes the clothes and style. "Hank has the same problem, with the you that isn't you. Only I think it's worse for him, since back home he and I were... close." The dip of her head and shy smile at that last word is a good indication of how close.

Tatum takes the hand offered, ready to watch the show. She's always curious with mutations as overt as Warren's just what is going to happen. Plus, it has to be admitted that it is a bit of a power trip, watching how her own gift can change something so drastic. Her hand in his, her nails are painted cherry red to match her outfit.

"Yes yes, just like the actress. But it's better then my first or my other middle name, so it's what I go by. I'd rather be teased by being called Tater Tot then... the other options."

Thinking about the question, her head tilts to one side. "Well, I never really saw myself *teaching* cooking or sewing. It was always something I just did cause otherwise I would starve or have to go to school naked. But Chuck says he has confidence in me, so how are you supposed to argue with that, right? What about you? What do you teach?"

Archangel has posed:
"You and Hank, huh?" It's not hard to see just the extent of what 'close' means behind that shy smile that already looks rather out of place on Tatum. He considers, a moment. "I'm sure he took that..." His words trail as his brows furrow, as if searching for the proper words.

"... well?" is about all he can come up with -- but it doesn't stop the sympathy from bleeding into his expression, just a bit. "Sorry. Coming into a new place, with people you care about being... not the people you care about. Can't be easy, huh?"

There's barely any hesitation, as he takes her hand into that warm, firm grasp of his. He's experienced plenty of weirdness -- though the sensation that comes over him after that contact is certainly one he's going to remember. Those wings start to recede, just a bit; more than that, the feathers seem to shift and change, becoming briefly those gleaming, metallic talons of wings of the Archangel before they flow like liquid steel back down into his shoulder blades -- leaving nothing but the open holes of tailored cloth beneath, baring nothing but tanned skin.

When it's all said and done, he exhales a breath, slowly, eyes squeezing shut. "That..." he begins, vividly blue eyes cracking open once more. "... that is the weirdest thing I've felt in a long time. Guess I'm not going to be romantically flying off with you in my arms any time soon, huh?" He jokes, his smile easygoing. "Damn. And that was my signature move, too."

He still manages a firm handshake, fingers squeezing around hers before his hand slips away; it takes him a moment, as those metallic wings flow back out and reknit into their more natural, feathery appearance, before normalcy reasserts itself -- well, relatively speaking. "And that... is even weirder," he manages, before laughing just a bit at Tate's words. "Hey, they're valuable life lessons. Especially for kids like me who were too spoiled rotten to even know how to boil water properly. I bet I'd end up at school naked somehow if I was even one year younger," he remarks, glibly, "... though maybe for different reasons... hm." Ultimately, he laughs, shoulders rolling in a helpless shrug as he turns to move, seating himself on the edge of the desk. "Me? Flight instructor." His hands lift, palms up, haplessly. "Believe me, I see the irony. Like a hammer to the face. Chuck's got a sense of humor, sometimes. But... y'know, if it fits..."

Deadzone has posed:
Tatum laughs as Warren describes rather well what Hank`s reaction was. "Yeah... he's been acting like he's been going through the five stages of grieving, to be honest. Denial, Anger... I think he's in the bargaining stage right now." Her devilish smirk seems to fit on her face far better then the shy smile did when talking about Dr. McCoy earlier. "I'm adapting. Pretty well, actually. Probably because I`ve dealt with a lot of weird since I became a part of the staff." She points a finger do to the floor as if indicating exactly what she means by 'staff'.

Tate gasps, a hint of fear in her pale eyes when she sees the metal wings of Archangel before they recede. So that did happen here? She's now more confused then ever. She tries not to let that fear show though, listening to Warren's glib comment. "You'll have to find some other way to sweep me off my feet, Warren. Like a replacement for my cello I left back at home, or my car? Just suggestions."

As Warren talks about him coming to school naked, she has to nod when even he has to admit it would be for different reasons. "Yeah, I could definitely see you doing that. Askin' the girls if they like the angle of the dangle while Scott yells at you to cover up."

Picking up her coffee cup, Tate oohs at the mention of flight instructor. "Hey, if Scott gives me clearance, I would really love to learn to fly. He always said I was too irresponsible back home. Said I would end up doing barrel rolls over Manhattan or something. Like I'm daft enough to do that shit anywhere that SHEILD feels like they own the rights to?"

Archangel has posed:
Even if it's just a hint of it, Warren recognizes fear for what it is; he knows that look well, if that briefly haunted, briefly guilty look is any indication, peeling so fleetingly past those layers of casual, superficial charm to the uncertainty beneath the surface. When his hand releases hers, it slides up towards his neck, rubbing at it. He can't bring himself to comment on it, just looking aside for a moment before he forces that personable smile back to the surface with the ease of someone who's had to spend much too long perfecting it.

"Cello, -and- a car?" he asks, arms crossing over his chest and a brow lifting -just- so at the request. "Now that just feels like a bribe, not a romantic gesture." Still, though -- he knows what it's like to have to leave behind the things you consider precious; his smile softens just a bit, before he snaps his fingers once as if on the dawn of an idea. "How about this -- I'll get that cello for you, if you play something for me. It's been a while since I've heard a good cellist in action. As for the car..."

He just clucks his tongue, exactly once. "Well, I guess seeing someone buying you fancy gifts might push Hank through those grieving stages at hyper speed. So, we'll see about that." And leaves it just at that, as teasingly noncommittal as can be.

Still, he laughs, bright and warmly, at her words, shaking his head as he caps it all off with a forlorn, exaggerated sigh. "You'd be surprised how many said they didn't. Can you imagine? Almost enough to wound my pride!" he plays along with that scenario effortlessly, smile quirking at the corners of his lips. "... really though, I think I'd end up suffering a worse fate than Scott yelling at me if I tried to pull that stunt."

Speaking of which... "Yeah? Sure, I'd be happy to give you lessons. I'll even teach you how to do that barrel roll... mmmmmaybe somewhere SHIELD won't start trying to crawl all up our ass about." He plants hands against the edges of her desk, leaning back just a bit as his wings stretch out with a feathery ruffle behind him. "I'd recommend getting that clearance now, though, before this Scott sniffs out what kind of trouble you are and engages in killjoy mode. You have a very, very small window of opportunity here, Tater Tot." A wink follows, effortlessly. "Better exploit it before it slips through your fingers."

Deadzone has posed:
She wants to ask. The sight of metal wings has her curious and a little scared. Has *HE* been here then? If so, how did they manage to deal with him. And when they did... who died in this world. But Dr. McCoy was very adamant about not bringing up as little about her world as possible. She's greatful for the change in topic.

"Hey, when you look as fine as I do," she says, gesturing to her outfit. "I think a cello and a car are certainly worth the price of admission." She gives Warren a playful wink along with that devilish smile that she could trademark. "Don't worry about replacing the car though. I loved it, but vintage muscle sucks gas like it was getting paid to. And getting me to play a cello is pretty much as simple as saying 'Hey Tate! Is that a cello?'"

As Warren bemoans his fate at some women actually not appreciating hte sight of his naked body, Tatum pouts with him. "Awwww! Muffin! Say it ain't so!" before she laughs and sips at her cup, her eyes watching him over the brim as her cherry red lips stain the edge of her cup.

Conversations of flying get her excited, especially the thought of the barrel roll. "Sweet! Yeah, I better ask before this one has seen me drive. That's what put off the last one. Speaking of.... where does a girl go to find herself some street racing action around here?"

Archangel has posed:
With her assets highlighted with the helpful indicating of her showcasing hand, Archangel is all too happy to punctuate her words with a little whistle and a dancing, roguish grin. "Well..." he begins, with great deliberation; he even goes so far as to stroke his chin in quiet contemplation at her assessment. "... can't really argue that. You got me there." And his shoulders lift in a helpless shrug, as if to quietly surrender to her playful argument.

"I know a few people, though, I'll make some calls. I can't replace that old cello of yours if it had sentimental value, but..." He offers a faint smile. "... consider this a little housewarming gift, I guess. Or maybe it's 'dimension warming gift'? That sounds a bit clunky, though. Hmmm..." And here, that smile grows, briefly exposing pearly white teeth in his teasing mirth.

"In the meantime... I'll be looking forward to seeing if your music's as fine as you are."

He gestures, pointedly, at her outfit, in a playful echo of her earlier actions.

As she laments, Warren laughs along with her, throwing his hands to the heavens as if in despair over his (naked) plight, a twinkle of entertainment dancing in those clear blue eyes as her gaze catches hers. He settles easily, confidence tugging the corners of his lips upward as he locks his hands behind the back of his head. "Yeah. You never know what's gonna set Scott off. But he just wouldn't be Scott if he wasn't almost mechanically devoted to ruin everyone's good time." The question, though, causes him to blink. He tilts his head, brows furrowing in thought. "Hmm. Well, my first suggestion is 'not in our parking lot,' believe me, it doesn't go over well," he begins, considerately. "I might know of a few scenes that enjoy that kinda thing, though. Don't know if they're still around, but... I'll see what I can pull up. How's that sound?" A second passes. "... Though, without a car, that's gonna be a real short street race."

Deadzone has posed:
Tate seems to enjoy the playful banter with another dyed in the wool flirt like herself. The fact, that like her, flirting doesn't neccitate doing something about it certainly helps her be willing to play like this. "As you know, it's hard to be humble, when you are perfect in every way," she says, quoting a song old enough to likely not be known.

"You can't replace the one I really want back, but having my carbon fiber one again would be nice. And I have Remy working on getting my *good* cello back. Frankly, I don't think even *you* are willing to buy me a Strad with no promise of return for you investment."

She laughs then, looking as if she's been insulted as she smiles. "I'm sorry? Did you just imply that my playing is anything less then spectacular? Juilliard? NY Philharmonic? Mentioned in the paper as the next Yo Yo Ma?" She sighs then, realizing that there is a good chance that that life is behind her. "Trust me, when I play, you'll notice."

The dissing Scott when he's not around does seem to be a favourite pasttime of a lot of the X-ers, student and staff alike. "Yeah, I have to admit, if not for him, I wouldn't be half the combatant I am now. Though he never let me use guns. Seriously, I'm squishy and I have no healing factor and my power needs to be up close or I run the risk of hitting my teammates. Give a girl a little bit of an advantage!" She finishes her coffee and pouts. No more ambrosia. She instead grabs a lollipop from a cup full of them on her desk. "I'm not going to race the first few times. You go, watch the competition, figure out their driving styles. Tell you what, you find one, and we can go together."

Archangel has posed:
It's a nice little riposte of flirtatious words, the duel of wordplay seeming to come as natural to Warren as a duck to water, if that pleased little smirk of his is any indication. He waves a hand through the air, heaving a sorry sigh as he shakes his head. "Oh Lord, don't I know it," he laments to her quoted words. Blue eyes roll up towards the ceiling, truly world weary. "You know, every time I look in the mirror, I think I get better looking every day."

Paraphrased just enough that his own quotation might just be narcissistic coincidence, if it weren't for the amused look in those baby blues of his.

"I guess everyone has their limits," he eventually admits to Tate as she talks about her cello, shoulders rolling in a little shrug. "Besides, I wouldn't wanna steal Remy's thunder. The guy's got an image to maintain." He does offer a more genuine kind of smile after that, though, gaze flitting her way. "Glad to hear you've got plans for a suitable replacement, though. I know -- it can be tough, losing something that important to you."

But still -- as she plays at being insulted, Warren is all too happy to play along, adopting his finest spoiled trust fund brat act as he blinks in seemingly genuine confusion and utters those playfully damning words, "What's a Yo-Yo Ma?" as if custom designed to rile before it all breaks away with a simple wink.

"Well, now you've set my expectations to a record high. Hope you're ready to take responsibility, Tater."

Watching as Tate goes for one of those lollis, Warren reaches out after, snatching one for himself. "'You have to learn to adapt to your disadvantages on the battlefield! Turn your weaknesses into strength!'" Warren bellows commandingly, in his best impression of an Uptight Scott voice that he can manage. "... or something like that. Hey -- maybe Betsy can teach you how to be a frightening ninja instead, right? Always look at life's little Scott-induced roadblocks as opportunities in disguise, I always say."

And with that, he pops that lollipop into his mouth, listening to Tatum's words with an arch of brows and a look of fascination for her explanation -- the thrillseeker in him just seems to gobble it up, if that devilish grin is any indication. "Sounds like a plan. You've got yourself a date, Ms. O'Neal. Please be gentle."

Deadzone has posed:
When not only does Warren recognize the song that she quotes, but continues the song, the smile on Tate's face is infectious. "But, I'm certain that those that know you, love you. After all, you're such a hell of a man!" After that though, she breaks out into giggles. "I've missed you, Warren. Well, not you, but you get my meaning. It's nice to have someone I can just be stupid with and flirt like crazy. Remy, well, not this Remy, but Remy always struck me as kind of dangerous to flirt with. Like mooning an alligator."

Talking about her cello and Remy hopefully getting this world's version of it for her, Tate's smile fades to seriousness. "I'm just worried I might have given him more then he can handle. He won't exactly admit if he's in over his head and I don't think Charles or Anne Marie would forgive me if he ends up in a gulag." The play at not knowing who Yo Yo Ma is, makes Tate's eyes go wide. Does this world not have him? What sort of devil dimension is this?! Then the wink as watches her reaction and she realizes she was played. "I should poke you with a sharp stick for that, flyboy."

More Scott bashing has her laughing again. The lollipops appear to be little skulls and taste like... bourbon? Good bourbon too, nothing cheap. "I'm certainly not as good as Betsy, but I have a bit of hand to hand. Pressure points and batons. But once again, that means getting up close and personal and I don't heal like Hank and Logan do. Trust me, you should see the bruises all over me from yesterday's exercise in the DR."

When he asks for her to be gentle on their first date, Tate pushes herself off her desk as the students start to mill in for the first class. "You're asking a woman who used to date a guy called Beast to be gentle?" She asks as she steps up close enough that her body is dangerously close to making his wings fade again. "Warren Worthington, I don't know the meaning of the word."