8127/Late Night Hang over cure

Late Night Hang over cure
Date of Scene:	01 July 2019
Location:	Kitchen - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Cannonball, Psylocke, Storm

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Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie is in the kitchen. He has the Fridge open leaned over looking in it making a dull groaning noise as he seems to be picking a few things out of it. Soon he is walking to the bar a glass on it, and cracking an egg into it it, and some pickle juice is added next with some hot sauce.

Psylocke has posed:
The Mansion is not the sort of place Betsy tends to be after dark. She might have a guest room here she can occupy, but she prefers her own apartment in the City and makes no qualms about it. Nevertheless, from time to time things keep her late and she's still burning the midnight oil when she hears the mild commotion from the kitchen. She's well dressed even for the hour, although it's casual. A short leather half-jacket over a baby blue Rolling Stones t-shirt. She tucks her tablet under he arm and pauses watching Sam at the bar for a moment.

"Big night, Sammy?"

Storm has posed:
A strange thing about the Mansion is discovering who is awake at odd hours. It's a community that lives and sleeps, in time with sun and night, but rarely is it ever wholly at rest.

Ororo enters through the door opposite Betsy's approach, pausing in surprise to hear voices and see lights playing. A ceramic mug decorated with a three-color image of Africa dangles from her fingers. No makeup or jewelry, just loose-flowing yoga pants and a black sleeping tee.

But she smiles at Betsy, pleased to see the violet-eyed woman. "Betsy, I heard you were staying here," Ororo says with a fond pleasure, and steps to Betsy to offer her a gentle clasp of hands in greeting. "I only just nipped down here for some fresh cream." Her mug is hefted.

Ororo glances at Sam's concotion and makes a face. "Sam, what are you /making/?" she queries him, aghast. Her flat sandals shuffle against the tiles underfoot and Ororo starts rummaging around the fridge for a container of thick dairy cream.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will look tot he ladies, and says "Not really a big night and probably mostly a bad decision night." He admits. He offers Storm a forced smile and says "Hangover cure, my pa used, but to be honest, Ah think it is more supposed to be a deterrent than an actual cure. He will add a couple other things in and then stirs it up "Good to see you again Betsy." He will hold up a finger and turn away from the ladies a moment and drink the cure, and amazingly keeps it down.

Psylocke has posed:
"Just visiting, darling," Betsy answers in her languid but point-perfect Received Pronunciation, firing a polite smile across the countertop to the veteran X-Woman, "You know how it is. Shadows everywhere." She wags her eyebrows, letting whatever that means slip through the cracks.

At Sam's anti-hangover concoction, she wrinkles her nose in displeasure: "Samuel, I think the only curing that mix is going to do is making you throw up whatever rotgut you've been drinking. Or giving you salmonella and killing you so you never have to worry about being hungover again ... "

Storm has posed:
Ororo just... stares at Sam when he chugs down the hangover cure. She shakes her head at him and transfers creme to her mug but doesn't immediately head upstairs. "Sam, just come talk to me when you need herbal remedies," Ororo says, plaintively. "I'm not sure how you or your father /survived/ this curative, but there's no need to prove how robust the Guthrie men are."

She settles into a seat at the counter and rests her elbows on the tile, arms folding loosely. "I was in London a few weeks ago. I should have looked you up but I thought you might be busy," Ororo apologizes. "How've you been then?"

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie takes a moment steadying himself and says "Well more Uncle Lucas than Pa drinking it. Ah look at it as much gonna do the crime, gotta do the time." He jokes a bit. He does wash his glass, before moving to put things back, and getting a bottle of eater. "Sorry ya had to see it Ah don't drink often."

Psylocke has posed:
"Not in London," Betsy explains to Ororo, "Or at least not recently. I was actually at a shoot in Saint-Tropez. I'm not entirely sold on getting back into the game full time, but the sun was nice and I got to test out my French. It was ... " She searches momentarily for the phrase, " ... une bonne excuse pour ne pas porter de chemise." She grins.

After Sam has ?done the time' for his drinking, Betsy reaches out to pat a hand on his shoulder lightly and just for a moment, "A good times not a crime. I'm sure Ororo's had her share of drunken escapades. I know I have. Except I don't give myself food poisoning afterwards. What would you recommend, Ms. Munroe?"

Storm has posed:
"Je vous recommende? Ne pas boire," Ororo says, her rich voice no less exotically accented in French than in English. "That is, Mr. Guthrie, I recommend not drinking. But I can come up with something for you," she assures him, and moves to the spices cabinet to start rooting around. Twists of vegetables and roots are tucked away next to familiar McCormick containers.

She starts preparing what looks like a cup of tea, cutting and grinding with a tidy efficiency. "It's a joke in the Serengeti tribes that there's a fine line between the best hunters and best drinkers. Beer is mostly preferred," she clarifies. "It is dense in calories. Very important for someone running thirty miles a day. And it keeps the water boiled clean."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will sip his water "Tonight was not about having a good time. It was trying to decide if Ah wanted to try to forget, but It would not be right to. Doug came by and talked to me, He was trying to help, and he did but Ah still gotta work on things."

Psylocke has posed:
"Drinking's no way to forget," Betsy chides Sam, her easy-going smile easing into a concerned frown, "You don't have any control over what you forget or remember with crystal clarity and it's hell on the head." She ruffles his hair a little bit, but not enough to upset the delicate eggs in his brain-basket. She's not about to worsen the headache.

"Besides, you live in a house full of telepaths," as she speaks, a violet shimmer forms about her eyes - a butterfly-like pattern of energy in the air around her head, "You want me to wipe it for you? No problem."

She smirks playfully, putting on the telepathic light show but not even going so far as to surface read his mind. That'd be rude.

"Come on, drink Ororo's magic potion."

Storm has posed:
"Behave," Ororo scolds Betsy with an affectionate 'tsk'. She walks over to Sam and offers him the steaming cup of tea. It smells ... odd, but doesn't seem wholly indigestible. "Valerian root, rosehips, some odds and ends. It will help," she promises him. "And here." She reloads his water glass and drops two seltzer tablets into it, then hands it to Sam. "You'll feel much better when you wake up, I promise," she assures him.

"I came down to get something for my cocoa but I think I will make some here. Betsy, would you care for any?" Ororo offers, and starts digging out some authentic chocolate powder out of the cabinets.

"As we're all up already, Sam, you might as well tell us what is weighing so heavily on your mind," she advises him, with a gently encouraging tone. "We all have our demons to face, but we do not need do it alone."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will look down into the cup quiet for a long moment, and then looks up, and says "Ah lead the latest raid on the Sentinel plant. People were hurt, and some killed. None should have died, the explosives that our side used were up around the communication array. They are saying now none of the protesters were killed, but that's because of two of the mutants that were there not my doing or our people. " He sips the cup, and says "Took two students in there, only ment to take one but had a stow away." He admits "Luckily sent Alek in with Rachel's team on the stealth team. But Bobby saw all that, he is a tough kid but should not have had to see it." He sips his tea some more, and says "Tried to keep all the sentinels on me but could only keep three or so of them busy."

Psylocke has posed:
    Betsy listens, the violet aura about her face fading away so as to no longer present quite as much of a strange image. She pays close attention to Sam, pulling up a stool and sitting with her legs crossed. The story is one that causes the corners of her mouth to twitch downwards in a frown.

"If you'll pardon the expression, Sam, it sounds like your mission went tits up. It won't be the first one, and it won't be the last no matter how much you punish yourself. It's a dangerous gaff - this whole 'doing the right thing' thing."

She turns her head to look at Ororo, lapsing into silent so she can speak. She's sure the veteran X-Woman would have an even greater wealth of experience in that arena than she does.

Storm has posed:
"I've had stowaway issues myself," Ororo says. "Mister McFadden is currently on detention for the forseeable future for being recklessly brave in that regard." She smiles despite herself.

the expression falls away after a few seconds and she looks down at the work in her hands. It's finished and she moves to give Betsy a cup of the cocoa, then sips her own. It smells like rich, earthy chocolate and real creme.

"There are many students who like to have authority," Ororo says, finally. "They enjoy having power and influence. Authority is not leadership. Leadership means making difficult decisions and hard compromises. It is unpopular and dangerous and often you are the lonely last person holding a bag of regrets while everyone else congratulates themselves for a job well done."

Ororo gives Sam a judicious look. "Do you want me to tell you it will be all right?" she says, tone a bit firm. "I won't. Platitudes are for the children. You should always aspire to do better. To /be/ better. Lives ride on our every decision in the field. There is no taking back a decision made in haste or fear."

There's a moment of silence and then she steps over to Sam and rests a palm on his bicep, squeezing encouragingly. "But. If you made the best possible decision with the information available, do not blame yourself for failing to be clairvoyant. We're powerful, but not omnipotent. If you did the very best you could, and you always strive to do better, then you've accomplished more than most and you're doing more than many who are otherwise content to be followers."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Trust me, Ah know, we lost one before with Dani and Ah in charge, being dumb kids who thought we could make it through anything. We were lucky in the long run Doug made it back to us. And as bad as it sounds Ah think ah could handle one of us getting hurt easier. We choose to put ourselves in danger to help people. It is like a Fireman or Police officer, only we don't get paid and maybe more hate. " He sighs a bit and says "It is the whole civilians, even if they were working for Trask that bothers me. That and second guessing myself. When the stealth team teleported out, I thought they were being hit and needed the distraction. The sentinels were already scanning the protesters, but Ah wonder if Ah had just told everyone out if they would have fired." He sips his tea, and says "Those deaths are on me, and that pain and suffering is on me. Yea Ah know Sentinels are made to do that, but AH made the choice... but Ah also know the day that pain and those deaths do not bother me, even if those we fight against, then ah am changing for the worse.

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy opts not to say anything for the moment, accepting the offered cocoa and taking a silent sip from it. Her own inspirational talks are far less effective. But then, for her things have been a little more difficult. Maybe she was always just a bit more self-centered than the average X-Man. Whatever is going on behind her violet eyes, she keeps it to herself and instead nods her head in agreement.

"You keep that weight with you," she adds, quiet and not in her usual tone of casual indifference, "But you let it make you stronger, not drag you under. There are going to be situations ahead where you're going to make decisions that make a difference for the better, and if you're second guessing yourself you won't be in the position to make them."

Storm has posed:
"Look at the words you are using," Ororo nudges Sam. "'I thought'. 'If'. 'I wonder'." She sips her cocoa, holding it in both hands to warm her palms. "Jean-- and Betsy," she says, tilting her head to the telepath. "And Charles. They'll tell you our language shapes our thinking. You look at all the ways it could have gone wrong. What if an asteroid had landed? What if a violent, hostile Superman clone started tearing through the team?"

"Stop thinking in terms of 'what if'," she suggests, encouragingly. "Think like a leader. Learn from these encounters. Come up with contingencies. Rehearse them in the simulators. Anyone who says leadership is about instinct is dead wrong. If you want to be the best possible leader, you need to practice and rehearse those skills until they feel *like* instincts. Believe me," she says, with a wry and twisted smile, "trying to win on guts and enthusiasm alone is not enough. Jean, Scott, myself-- we learned that the hard way early on."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods his head a bit to this and nods his head. "Ah am going to need to start working with more people. Ah have to work on knowing more what we have and what powers and skills everyone has. Am used to a set skillset of people, and only really had one Ah was truly used to working with, and Ah sent her in on the stealth side.

Psylocke has posed:
"Next time you need stealth, Sam," Betsy offers, gesturing to herself with a splayed hand across her chest, "Give me a ring. From what I heard and what you're telling me, it was a bit of a scrape. Glad to lend a hand to the cause when needs be."

She takes another sip of the cocoa thoughtfully, "It'd be just like old times, wouldn't you say?"

She pauses, looking down at herself before muttering, "Well, maybe not exactly like old times."

Storm has posed:
Ororo smiles gratefully at Betsy's offer. "The resident ninja, not even back a day and itching for action," she says, teasing her affectionately. "Be careful with her, Sam, she'll decide she can take on the mission single-handed and next thing you know, she's yelling to be evacuated from a burning building." Eyes glimmer merrily. It must be an inside joke.

"Anyway, Sam. If it'll help, I'll see to it you get full dossiere unlocks. Scott keeps meticulous training notes in every file and lots of Danger Room simulations. You can get a feel for how someone's gifts work. And... let them surprise you, sometimes," she reminds him. "You'll figure out who needs to be reined in tightly and which are best left to their own devices."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie says, "Ah have most of them, but if Ah am missing any it would never hut. He looks to Storm, and says "We saved her once already, I think she is worth it, even if Doug was the one to do all the heavy lifting." He saying giving his friend his props. "And besides extra chores, Ah think Bobby is getting extra danger room sessions, he is as stubborn as we were.""

Psylocke has posed:
"I'll have you both know," Betsy says pointedly, even though there's a faint smile on her lips, "That I don't need half as much saving as I used to. Observe."

As she speaks, she climbs down off her stool and walks towards one of the shadow-enshrouded corners of the sparsely lit kitchen and lounge area. When the lights are on, those shadows are just a wall and the speed and purpose with which she's walking suggest she's going to plow straight into it. Save for a moment later when she emerges from another cluster of shadows behind Ororo, stepping past her and patting her on the shoulder as she goes. Stepping through the shadows like they were doorways.

"I've learned some new tricks."

Storm has posed:
Both of Ororo's silver brows lift up in surprise at Betsy's teleportation. "Asili's breath," she mumbles, shocked. As close to a curse as slips her lips. "That's a new one for you," Ororo agrees. "Seems you've a little mum on the topic of your recent adventures. How did--" she wiggles a fingertip at Betsy. "You pick up that? I'm sure Kurt will love the competition. He's already feeling a little peevish about Bobby McFadden's skill. With enough teleporters, perhaps we could just retire the senior team entirely. Just pop you in and out of trouble, fast and quiet."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie chuckles and says "Bobby has some issues when he is around other teleporters and stepping disks and such. He yawns and says "Ah think Ah am going to head to bed. It was good to see you Betsy, and thank you both for the advise snf the tea." He will wash his glass before moving to head on to bed.

Psylocke has posed:
"Sleep sweetly, Sam," Betsy calls, watching him clean up after himself and head out before turning back to Ororo.

"Oh, you know, one picks things up here and there," she answers, keeping to her usual inscrutability about just where she's been and what she's been doing, "I'm afraid I don't present quite the same image as dear Kurt, though. No brimstone and swashbuckler panache."

"What have I missed? Besides this debacle with the sentinels, I mean. I gather you're fully briefed on the trials and tribulations of Professor Xavier's X-Men, no doubt?"

Storm has posed:
Ororo runs fingers through her hair, shaking out the upcurling white pompadour of her mohawk. It immediately springs into place. "Good night, Sam," she bids the young fellow, and smiles pleasantly at him as he leaves.

Her focus returns to Betsy, a brow quirking again. She knows Betsy's holding back... but Ororo also doesn't press it. She respects Betsy's desire for privacy, and in response, offers candor.

"The Sentinel issue has been the heart of things for some months," she tells Betsy. "It has grown into a plot with sinister and epic proportions. Alien machines, synthetic intelligences... I understand the Avengers lost their android, Vision."

She purses her lips. "It's been frenetic. But the team-- teams," she amends, "are handling themselves quite well. I am very impressed."

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy raises her eyebrows. She had only passing familiarity with the android from what she'd heard in the news, but it's never pleasant to hear about a death regardless of who it is. She sips on her cooling cocoa, taking the miniature briefing in for a moment.

"I was actually serious about coming back," she begins after a moment, taking another sip, "I'll not argue that I'm the most ... hm ... /present/ of the roster, at least in recent weeks. But after listening to what Sam said, there seems to be a need for those of us with battlefield experience. Not to mention the wherewithal to own up to those decisions."

She clears her throat, setting the mug down: "Not that I would count Sam out as a wonderful leader. But if anyone seems like they could use a vacation, it's that fellow."

Storm has posed:
"I was hoping you'd say that," Ororo tells Betsy gratefully. "Not... that you aren't missed as a friend," she clarifies carefully. "But I would be dishonest if I said we did not need the help. Samuel's coming into his own." She nods at the wake of the departed Southern gentleman. "But this mission rattled him. Kitty is also stepping up in a remarkable way-- you would be impressed. And her birthday is quite soon," Ororo remarks. "She's turned into a remarkably /competent/ young woman."

"I think your things are still in storage," Ororo says thoughtfully. "I'll see to it they're brought up. Do you want your old room, on the east side of the building? Depending on how you feel about sunrises of late; I remember a time when you despised early rising," she says with a quixotic grin.

Psylocke has posed:
"I'm ... not certain I'll be moving back in just yet," Betsy says a shade ruefully, "I have an apartment in the City and it'd be a shame to let it go. But as you can see, as long as there's a shadow somewhere I can be here whenever I'm needed. Although, of course, if it would help I could certainly see about splitting my time."

The violet woman thinks on it for a moment, before pressing on, "Though I'll admit, Ororo, I'm not sure I relish the idea of living on campus with a horde of teenagers. Especially when I can read their surface thoughts ... "

She makes a face before it turns into a devilish grin.

Storm has posed:
Ororo laughs, a merry and uninhibited sound. Teeth flash, a bright contrast against her bronze-toned skin. "I cannot blame you for wanting some peaece and quiet," she concedes. Her cocoa's hefted towards Betsy in toast and drained of contents, then set carefully aside where it won't get knocked down. "It can be quite trying, I admit. Teenagers are bad enough. Ones that can teleport at will and move past locked doors present a trying sort of problem. On the one hand, I don't want to limit children's exploration of their powers. Boundaries are a good and safe way to test them. On the other hand, poor Michelle Davies got stuck in the drainpipes trying to sneak past the hall monitor to see her boyfriend in the men's dorm. Why they didn't just sneak off for a snog in the stables, I don't know," Ororo says with an exasperated (but tolerantly loving) eyeroll towards said apartments. "I'd offer you the attic space, but it's mine, and you can't have it," she says with a smug and playful grin at Betsy. "I just finished repainting and moving my potted plants up from the greenhouse. I rarely feel hemmed in while I'm up there."

Psylocke has posed:
"I wouldn't dare of cramping your attic style, though if I /do/ move in I hope you can promise to send some of that miserable east coast weather packing when it gets too bad? I may be English, but when one has been to the south of France one tends to become less reasonable about needing to wear a scarf and mittens."

Betsy gives it thought for a while, looking out the window towards the expansive backyard that the Mansion boasts, "Do you think I could talk Charles into building an extension? Just a small wing. Twelve rooms should be enough. You'd hardly know I was there."

Storm has posed:
"Sorry, dear," Ororo says, wistfully. "I wish I could. I can mitigate some of the worst hurricanes. Beyond that, I try not to tamper with the weather unless lives are immediately at risk. A fast fog or a thunderstorm is an easy enough thing for me to undo. Trying to keep Westchester perpetually in summer would trigger unspeakable global climate issues. You'll just have to comfort yourself with some cute winter attire," she suggests.

"We could always build you a little hut or something. Out near the toolsheds." Her lips quirk in a grin, suggesting she's baiting Betsy a little.

Psylocke has posed:
"Curse your need to take climate action," Betsy hisses with mock indignance, already moving on to the idea of finding some nice winter clothes. She has some already, but she's going to use this as an excuse to buy more ... not that she really needed such permissions.

The talks of a tool shed raises her eyebrows incredulously, sipping up the last of the cocoa and locking eyes with her: "What part of me, dear Ororo, screams 'hut' or 'shack' to you? You need to tell me so I can lop it off immediately."

Storm has posed:
Ororo gets to her feet and offers to collect Betsy's mug on her way to the sink. A few moments of washing and they're set on a terrycloth napkin to dry. Ororo doesn't use a dishwasher much if she can help it.

"The part that responds so predictably to words like 'hut' or 'shack'," Ororo teases Betsy. "I think you'd like it. A nice quonset can be very luxurious if properly set up. There are Bedouin tribes who still live in encampments; their tents are small palaces. And easily packed up and moved when the seasons change."

"But you know of course, I am teasing you. We miss having you here, Elizabeth," Ororo remarks kindly. "I hope that you are willing to use your new... shadow-stepping talent to visit us more than merely when emergencies call."

Psylocke has posed:
"We'll see," Betsy answers, standing back while Ororo does the dishes - some things may never change. She fetches her tablet off the counter, tucking it under her arm again with a sign. For whatever reason, she's committed to the X-Men and their fight but doesn't seem quite willing to move back in. These things take time.

"I do need to dash, though," she adds, glancing towards the clock on the microwave, "It was nice to see you again, Ororo. If you feel like making a habit of these gossip sessions, I'm at the Bedford Tower. Not so far away for someone who can fly, I'm sure."

Storm has posed:
"Not far at all," Ororo agrees. "It was good to see you as well, Betsy. I hope your evening rest is uneventful. Sleep well," she bids the ninja, and goes in the opposite direction. "If you do feel like popping in at the wee hours, check if my light's on," she suggests. "My door's always open for someone who enjoys a hot cuppa tea," she assures the Brit. Fingers drum once on the doorframe, she smiles, and then she's off towards bed as well!

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy waves with her fingers, watching Ororo depart and occupying the kitchen alone for a moment. After a few seconds she sighs, gathering up the few things she brought with her. She runs a hand over the counter, looking at it thoughtfully and then to the window. She catches her reflection. The veritable stranger staring back at her. A moment later she is gone, through the shadows and out into the evening ...