8041/Mutant Inquiries

Mutant Inquiries
Date of Scene:	24 June 2019
Location:	Main Foyer - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Sean and Frank catch up on old cop stories, and plan new ones.
Cast of Characters:	Banshee, Frank Quaid

---

Banshee has posed:
Sean Cassidy heads down the main corridor, after holding open a door for the student walking alongside him. "Aye, that would be best," he chuckles to the young student, who grins back at him as she reaches the hallway. "Thank you, Mr. Cassidy," she replies. "I will." She waves to two of her friends that are clearly waiting for her near the main door, and heads over to them, leaving the teacher's side. He pauses there, letting the door slowly close, and taking in the flow of students moving in the foyer.

There's a scuffle at the other end, some roughhousing near a statue, which gets a quick bark from Sean: "Cool it." The boys separate and head outside.

Frank Quaid has posed:
Frank walks up the steps of the school while looking at his Blackberry. He opens the door to go in and then notices two boys just about to walk through. He holds the door for them, pockets his phone and walks into the lobby. Frank glances around at the kids going through and waves to one of them he recognizes. He catches sight of Sean across the lobby and walks toward him.

"Sean Cassidy..." he says with a half grin and holds out a hand. "Good to see you. How're you doing?"

Banshee has posed:
The sight of his policeman friend is disorienting to Sean in this context. It's like seeing someone from work in a social setting that feels so entirely different. He orients reasonably soon, but the first reaction is surprise, light eyebrows up quickly.

"If it isn't Frank Quaid!" Sean laughs. "Wait, 'tis Captain, now? I'm well as can be. Yours isn't a face I 'pected around 'ere, to be sure. What brings ye out?" he asks in his easy natural lilt, warmly accepting the handshake, and a friendly quick clap to the shoulder.

Frank Quaid has posed:
"Yeah, captain, and all the paperwork and politics that come with it," Frank says with chuckle. "I have a thing going with some of the staff, we help each other grease the wheels for these kinds of kids. Need to ask some questions. But what are you doing here? Last I heard you were an international super cop chasing art thieves, or whatever it is Interpol does," he quips. "They dealing fake art out of here?"

Banshee has posed:
"Ne'er there be an art thief I couldn't catch," Sean jokes back with a lift of a finger and a narrowing of eyes. "Nay, this be more of a personal thing, 'elpin the kids here as well I can, in 'tween when other jobs need me." Then a pause, and Sean rubs his neck with a palm, to clarify more specifically, "M'daughter's 'ere."

Frank Quaid has posed:
Frank looks surprised. "Wait, daughter? I'm getting older, but I'd remember you having a kid. You get re-married in France or something?" he shifts on his feet. "And to be here... She takes after her mom, I guess?"

Banshee has posed:
"Nae, only ever loved Maeve," Sean responds. He doesn't tend to get depressed about her: it's more of a wistful quality, of one day expecting to see her again, but missing her each day. "She gave birth while I was on an Interpol mission, and... et's very complicated," Sean says, feeling the awkwardness of discussing such private things in the hallway. And the heavy guilt of the whole situation crushing on him. The 'takes after her mom' got a slight flicker of Sean's light eyes: a "tell" that he didn't bother to hide from his friend. There's something there. He stays upbeat, instead.

"D'you want some decent coffee?" he invites, with a gesture. "Or are ye on y'own mission, and ah can direct ye?" Sean gestures around to the various doors and offices.

Frank Quaid has posed:
"I've got time for coffee. I'm never in /that/ much of rush," Frank says with a smile. He falls in with Sean. "This place is pretty special. If more schools had staff that care as much about the kids as they do here. Well, we'd have time coffee more often."

Banshee has posed:
"Wouldae even need it?" gasps Sean, and then shakes his head. "Fant'sy world," he chuckles in answer. He'll lead Frank towards the staff area, which is also out of the hallways that have the movement of the students in them. "Truly, et is that. Speshul. Have y' met Charles Xavier 'imself?" Sean inquires. "One 'o the most inspirin' people I've known."

Sean steers them to the staff coffee, and starts up a new batch for them.

Frank Quaid has posed:
"You know what, I haven't," Frank says. He glances at Sean with a raised eyebrow and notes he's being serious. "You're not the first person that's told me that, either. I've seen him talk at a couple things, but that's about it. He's a great speaker, and he's got a heck of a point. How'd you meet him?"

Banshee has posed:
"Oof, this was long 'go, Quaid. But I'm thinking it were a meeting wiih other' in 'is circle, through an Inte'pol job linked ter mutants," Sean says, after having to pause to actually recall exactly how it was. "Some'in like tha'. I don't think 'e is around now; often off doin' speeches, like you say, or I'd drag ye by 'is office."

Sean finishes setting the coffee to go, and pulls some mugs down out of a cabinet. "But y' said y' were here to aid some kids?"

Frank Quaid has posed:
"Huh. Well, some time I'll get you to do that when he is around," Frank says and leans back in his chair, looking Sean's way.

"Yeah. Some mutants fought with some Sentinels at a protest march in Bushwick, with Thor helping out. They wrecked the Sentinels, but dropped one on an apartment building and killed four people. Three of them were a whole family. Probably an accident, but you know how it is. People aren't gonna stop asking questions about something like that until there's answers."

Frank shakes his head.

"And then there was another fight outside HQ. Some Sentinels started grabbing at people, and some mutants jumped in to fight them off. Our guys were there to help, but..." Frank purses his lips and his expression darks. "Ripped the gun out of one of the sharpshooters hands, his finger went with it. And crashed one of the air units. Yeah, the mutants made sure none of our guys died, but they just turned on my guys. It's way offside. I want someone to have a talk with them and straighten them out."

Frank clears his throat. "Anyway, I asked Kitty Pryde if she knew anything about it and a kid that had her powers pop out in a mall and cause a mess. Kitty came through on the kid, so I'm hoping if I ask again she'll come through on the rest."

Banshee has posed:
Sean's expression, which started out with his usual more upbeat, pleasant façade, gets more and more dented, like a car being slowly compacted in a junkyard. The situation draws him almost to a scowl, but not quite. It does bring a rub of his hand over his face, against his reddish recent beard growth.

"When the mutants moved in to help, the Sentinels target'd the police also, y'saying?" Sean asks, trying to sort through it all. "Th' vigilante mutants mean well, but we /got/ to get the communica'ion," vents the frustrated Irishman. "What's y' best-case scenario, if ye could have anythin'? Assumin' I don't have the power to make Sentinels vanish, tha' is."

Frank Quaid has posed:
"No," Frank says with a shake of his head. "The mutants went after our guys and the Sentinels at the same time. The sentinels ignored our people until the flying mutant was going around crushing the .50 cal rifles of each overwatch team. I don't... The teams never pointed a gun anywhere near the ground. They were there watching for sentinels and their orders were to go for the optics. I don't know if that would've helped, but short of calling in the National Guard..." Frank says with increasing frustration. He takes a breath. "Sorry, Sean. Ah, well with whoever was in Bushwick, if it really was an accident, we have laws for that. But I need someone to come forward and take responsibility. These sentinels have been running wild, nobody's charging them for that part. But people are scared and grieving and the mayor wants answers."

Frank purses his lips and runs his tongue over the front of his teeth. "The other, I want to talk to them, off the record, and make sure we're damn clear about the rules going forward. We got crap for video, and it's probably better we never find out who that was. I don't want us charging some mutants who stopped a sentinel attack on innocents going up in the news. But I never said that," he adds. "Officially we want someone's ass."

Banshee has posed:
Sean's hands turn even more pale than they already are as he grips the counter, and nods once. "I know how ter find out. I'll get ye your meetin'," Sean says, with a low firmness, a growl of voice that Sean is possibly a little bit known for. The guy has some interesting range vocally, though nothing unnatural, of course. "Assault on our guys - and by that ah mean pol'ce officers - doesn' get to skate by, 'ere."

Sean's strength about the issue seems to collapse a little bit: perhaps as he realizes that he doesn't have as much clout as he'd like. "Ah kin raise the issue, a' leas'."

Frank Quaid has posed:
"Thanks, Sean. Sorry to be the messenger, but I'd really appreciate you asking around," Frank says sincerely. "I know I can count on you to raise hell."

Frank looks at Sean for a moment and shakes his head. "So how is Interpol? Really."

Banshee has posed:
Sean covers his displeasure and anger with a quick bark of laughter. Sean rarely is in a good mood, but almost always at least puts up a great front of one. "Don' worry 'bout the hell," Sean agrees.

"Really? Heavy un'ercover, in my case. 's like runnin a separate life, gotta shut out th' rest. S'bad, righ' now: Sentinels're a global probl'm, mixed into brewin' war--- well. Can't say more. 'Cept that I can't really work Sentinel cases undercover. I'm takin' a 'break,' t' be here. T' raise hell at home. Not really a break."

Frank Quaid has posed:
"You always had taste for the hardcore," Frank says with a shake of his head. "Don't know how you do it. I'm still going home to an empty apartment, but I like going home at the end of the day... two days... Whatever. Gotta be hard with your daughter here."

Banshee has posed:
Sean shrugs, "You know ah'd rarely leave work, iffin they let me just stay in there," Sean laughs. The coffee's ready, and he deals with that, gesturing to Frank to come add whatever he wants to his. Sean puts a bit of creamer in his, but that's it.

"I'm worried for 'er, but, also just tryin' to figure out how to get on with her, it's not easy," he says quietly, but shakes his head. "For a bit, seemed mutant wasn't so much a bad word. Back t' bein' awful, again."

Frank Quaid has posed:
Frank gets up and joins Sean. He takes his coffee black.

"Yeah, the mood's gotten ugly again," Frank agrees. "It's a damn shame. People don't learn. How old is your daughter? What's her name?" he asks curiously. Once Sean has his coffee ready, Frank walks with him back to one of tables and settles in.

"Miss having you around, Sean, I won't lie. You could always come back. Be around here more, be around your daughter. You know I'd make a spot for you in a heartbeat."

Banshee has posed:
"She's..." Sean comes over, sitting at the table, resting his forearms on it, and looks blank. He's calculating. How old is she now. "Twen'y-four. Ow. 'Ow'd we get so old, Frank?" Sean asks, painfully, with his usual quick little laugh. "Theresa."

Sean considers the offer, smiling. "Prob'ly a better fit than me tryin' to teach 'ere. I do, though it's summer now, classes're out. Social studies, Geography, depends; done et a few times o'er the last decade, between other thin's. Usually called back t' Interpol, though. Tha' said, my summer's pretty open. I'd like t' 'elp with these Sentinels. Maybe get this nasty relationsh'p with the mutants inter something less horrible?"

Frank Quaid has posed:
"Twenty four," Frank chuckles and shakes his head. He drinks from his coffee again and suppresses a smile Sean talks. "Social... I'm sure you're great at it, but I'm trying to picture the Sean I knew, running down that alley off fourth and feeding it to a 6'4" ex-linebacker... With teaching social studies." Frank chuckles. "But hey, the office is big on community engagement now. We can make time for you to teach without talking about details."

The smile leaves his eyes then and he sets down his coffee. "I'm up to my neck in Sentinels, and it's a disaster. Nobody's in control right now, not exactly. I can't talk about it here, but.... Yeah, if you want in on that mess, I'll hook you up. I've got Critical Response, the Counterterror JTF, and Special Crimes Unit, a new one for mutant and meta stuff. SCU is leading the way on Sentinels. You remember Elaina Bever? Detective-Sergeant now. She's over there. She married /Trevor Clarke/ if you can believe that. She's wasted on him."

Banshee has posed:
"I remember that, my shoulder dinnae like me doin' that," Sean laughs immediately, at the story, slapping one hand lightly on the table, recalling the collar. "Faked bein' fine for, wut, two months?" Sean smirks, shaking his head. Stupidity and bravado, of not wanting to be taken off of a case.

"Clarke? Bulldog Clarke? Urgh. Maybe she'll whip 'im into shape," Sean suggests, but there's doubt in his voice. "Dinnae you date 'Laina?" he asks, with a squint, and slight grin. He lets it go, though.

"Well, I kin promise I won't make yer mess /worse/."

Frank Quaid has posed:
Frank laughs at the memory as well. "Damn stubborn, is what it was," he grunts with a grin.

"Yep. Bulldog," Frank says and makes a bit of a face into his coffee and takes a big drink from his mug. Then he laughs. "Right. If anyone can find a way to make a bigger mess, it's you! But damn it would be good. Lots of kids in these units, not enough guys like us. Besides, it's home, Sean. You know?"

Banshee has posed:
That comment, about home, clearly pierces Sean's surface smile. His eyes turn more to the honest sorrow that echoes Sean's more natural state of emotion underneath the stubbornness to show the world a positive outlook.

"Y'aren't wrong, t'be sure," Sean chuckles, tapping his fingers on his mug. He weighs Frank for a long moment. "S'hard t'know where I'm doin' the most good: givin' mutant kids a better role model'n the ones they had, or back w' the lads." A gesture to Frank, including him as a lad.

"Tempted though. Th' kids? They sure ain' what I'm good at," Sean winks.

Frank Quaid has posed:
Frank laughs. "Better than I am, nobody invites me to teach social studies to kids!" Then he shrugs. "Why pick one or the other? I'm serious. Teach a bit, be our liaison here, let people see the teacher they know also doing what we do. You gotta balance things out a bit more now anyway, with Theresa in the picture. Can't work /all/ the time or you'll end up like me."

Banshee has posed:
"Who's sayin' I'm not already jus' like you, 'cept I got a surprise kid?" teases Sean 'accusingly'. He taps his fingers on the mug more, deciding, still. The weigh from before, clearly, is still happening. He's deciding if he wants to hit his old friend with some more truth. "She is what she is, 'cause o' me, not her mum," Sean gives, finally. "T'snt somthin' to worry none about; I'm a lucky one. But ther' it is. Twenty years ago, woulda gotten m' fired, Frank."

Frank Quaid has posed:
Frank smirks at Sean's initial comment, then tilts his head and frowns slightly. "You're serious," he notes. "Well, shit, Sean. Huh. Never would've known, you don't. You know."

Frank leans back shift in his chair. "You're right though, I don't blame you keeping it secret. We're /trying/ to recruit mutants and metas now, but... Well, we made our own beds on that one, didn't we. It's not the same as it was, but it's not much better. I won't lie, Sean, unless you're ready to lay it all out for the mutant cause and get turned into a PR piece for the NYPD, I wouldn't tell anyone."

Banshee has posed:
"Ha! No, rather y'keep it t'yourself," Sean agrees, shaking his head and looking horrified over being turned into a PR piece. "Rather ruin m'ability to be an undercover agent, paste my face e'erywhere," Sean chuckles, but it isn't funny. "B'sides, doesn't affect th' job. And the job, she's what matters," Sean says, downing a big swig of coffee at once. "But makes me a good link b'tween here, and there," he clarifies. That's why he admitted it, quite possibly. "Keepin' the peace."

Frank Quaid has posed:
"If it doesn't affect the job it's nobody's business," Frank agrees. "I won't say anything. Really does make you perfect though. We all need that link."

Frank pulls his phone out and checks it, then scowls. "I can't stay much longer, but let's make this happen. Be like old times," Frank says. He pulls a pen and one of his cards out of his pocket. He scrawls his personal cell number on the back and hands it to Sean. "Well, except with sore knees and back pain," he smirks.

Banshee has posed:
"You're coverin' th' knees, righ'? I've got th' other one, though I think I'll jus' delegate et out, this time," Sean jokes, and accepts the card. He puts it away in a jacket pocket with a clear pat on where he put it. Safe. "Leave th' mug, I'll take care 'o it. I'll come by the precinct in a day'er two, but I'll warn ye first," Sean says.

Frank Quaid has posed:
"Thanks for the coffee, and for looking into things," Frank says and gets up. He smiles.

"This is gonna be good, Sean. Really good," he says, genuinely pleased. "Can't wait. You're gonna have to introduce me to Theresa though. We'll do a barbecue or something."

Frank shakes hands with Sean and makes his way to the door.

"It's good to see you, Sean. Real good," he says finally and then makes his way back out to the truck.