9722/Ice Cream and Ballads

Ice Cream and Ballads
Date of Scene:	23 October 2019
Location:	Wellness Office - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Triage and Shannon share a bit of their history over some well-earned ice cream from Jubilee's bet.
Cast of Characters:	Nightingale, Triage

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Nightingale has posed:
     It seemed as if Jubilee had made good on her bet. The freezer in the kitchen was stocked with more flavors of ice cream than a Ben & Jerry's shop. With the uncertainty as to what flavor the mansion's prodigal healer would enjoy, Shannon opts for two small containers of neopolitan ice cream. Armed with that, and two spoons, she hurries on over to the wellness office, hoping to perhaps bring Chris his daily dose of protein and calcium. Hey, those were healthy--right?

Triage has posed:
Darkness has fallen, and with that, the large windows might shed light on the school's presence to nosy neighbors or travelers beyond the edge of the grounds. To prevent that, Chris is moving from one window to the next, pulling rope cords that close large draperies that hang from a rod above the windows. The draperies are heavy and ornate in keeping with the mansion's antique atmosphere. When Shannon enters, he does not see her until he has pulled the cord on a shade and turns, ready to move to the next. He stops and smiles. "Now this is a lovely surprise!" he says. "Give me a minute, or put the bowls on the desk and you can pull one of these. It's great for the upper arms."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon rolls her eyes and sets down the two pint containers of ice cream on the desk, right along with the spoons. "Don't need to tell me about upper arms. They helped earn that ice cream!" She mills about the room, helping him close the curtains and block light from drawing unwanted attention to the mansion. Thankfully, the beds were devoid of any patients, which allows her to give a deep sigh of relief. Her wings ruffle slightly behind her as she tends to the task. "Besides, I'd say you earned the treat just as much as I did."

Triage has posed:
"That was well worth it," Chris answers, nodding while he draws his last drape with a smooth motion. "I think that even Jubilee enjoyed it." Feeling the slight breeze from her wings, he glances to Shannon. "Have you put your wings to a real-world test yet?"

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon shakes her head and shrugs. "I can't see as there'd be any problem, really, but I'm trying to not be so... difficult. So, we're still due for that. The last time we were going to, it turned into earning ice cream instead." She flops down on one of the stools without much fanfare, and reaches for one of the pints of ice cream and a spoon. "I wasn't sure what kind you liked, so I hope neopolitan covers the basics."

Triage has posed:
Chris grins and goes to the desk, snagging another of the stools along the way and pulls it into place. He perches on the stool and then grabs the other pint and spoon. "My favorite is anything with chocolate and nuts but this will be fine," he says. "It's the company that matters more than the ice cream." He starts to dig into the center vanilla layer, but looks up. "You really did well with that song by Bonnie Tyler. You poured your heart and soul into it."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods, her wings starting to fold around her as she thinks of that song. She digs into the ice cream, getting a little bit of all three flavors at once. "I can't help it with that song. I mean... don't get me wrong, my folks are my heroes, even before anyone else. Including the good Captain."

"But when my mutations manifested, as much as they tried--and they really did and still do try--I became part of a world they could never really understand, or be part of, too. So... I was holding out for a hero. That song still hits home. Probably always will."

A few more rather large bites of ice cream are sent on their way, with cumulative effect. She gets a tell-tale grimace on her face, to comical effect. "Owwwwwwww... ow ow ow owwwww...."

Triage has posed:
Chris shovels the a spoon of the vanilla into his mouth. When Shannon reacts to the sudden, painful rush, he grins. "You should know better than that," he teases. However, he has sympathy. He slides from the stool and heads to the kitchen. There, he pours cool water from a pitcher in the refrigerator into a glass, and returns. "That should help," he says, offering the glass to Shannon. "I'm glad that your folks were supportive. Some aren't, especially if the results are ... obvious."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon sips the cool water slowly, and soon sighs with relief. "Thanks. I know better, but it just tasted too good!" When she returns to nibbling on the ice cream, it's with much smaller bites, and more slowly. "I was really lucky with that. Not everyone is. What about you?" She tilts her head, listening, and savoring the sweet, icy treat that was well-earned.

Triage has posed:
"I had a rough start. My gift showed when I was 14,Chris begins to share between bites from his own cup. "I went walking with a friend of mine. We took a wrong turn, or I thought that it was a wrong turn. He said that he recognized the block and wanted to see some other buddies. He told me to wait at the corner. I did, and he went to see his 'friends.' I didn't know that they were part of a gang, and my buddy wanted to buy drugs from them. I also didn't know that he already owed. They knew it, and when he couldn't pay, they figured that killing and robbing him would solve their problem."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon hisses softly as she listens, her fingers curling into fists around the spoon and the ice cream container. Her brows furrow as she takes in what he is saying, but only nods silently. He had listened to her... now it was her turn.

Triage has posed:
"They sliced him open." Leaving the spoon in his ice cream, Chris makes a gesture across his abdomen with his hand, indicating where the attackers must have hit. "He screamed, and they ran. I ran too, to help my buddy. My adrenaline was in overdrive. I found him bleeding out on the street. I didn't know what to do except press the wound closed and pray. Someone had called the police. They came and found us, but not the thugs. I didn't know it but I was in the process of healing that stab. They arrested both of us - him for the drugs and me because they thought that I'd tried to kill him." He stops to spoon some of the ice cream into his mouth. After he swallows, he adds, "Some people from here happened to be there on assignment, helping the police. They talked to me, checked my buddy, and then took me to my parents."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods slowly, continuing to listen. Her grip on the pint container of ice cream and spoon tighten, her knuckles whitening and some of the ice cream starting to melt and trickle out over the top edge of the container. Some of it dripped down onto the desk, some onto her hand, but she didn't seem to notice. Her wings ruffle and begin to spread out wider, her frown turning into almost a scowl. "Why do people always have to be so blind? Couldn't they see you were healing him? Couldn't they see he had no more wound?" She does begin to relax somewhat, her grip loosening, and her wings relaxing as she hears about people from the school finding him. Good, at least he had not been without help.

Triage has posed:
Chris frowns when Shannon's grip on the cup tightens and her wings begin to unfurl protectively, but he continues. "My folks never met the pair from the school. They thought that I'd saved my friend in some /normal/ way. But it wasn't normal." He shakes his head. "Nothing normal could have saved him. The doctors told them that. Then they worried." He toys with his own spoon but leaves it for now. Ice cream could wait. "They had friends in one of the groups that later merged into Friends of Humanity. They'd heard all of the lies about us. My father believed all of that. He was angry and ready to kick me to the curb. My mother wasn't so sure. She contacted people who put her in touch with the school. They enrolled me with her permission. After that, my folks moved. I hear from my mother occasionally, secretly. That's why I think of this as home." He nods to her cup. "I'll get some paper towels. I'll be back."

Nightingale has posed:
     Only when Chris has finished his tale, does Shannon look down at her hands and the desk, realizing the mess she's made. Wrinkling her nose, she lets go of the container, and heads over to the kitchen station to wash up. She keeps her tale to herself, not even sure if she'd ever told him. Perhaps she had, perhaps not, but there was no sense in being a nuisance. "I'm glad you can still talk to your mother, but really sorry about your dad." She sighs softly. "He doesn't... well, go out in the field, does he? We're not likely to run into him out there, are we?"

Triage has posed:
Chris brings towels to the desk and cleans everything, including the outside of the pint container, while Shannon washes her hands. "They were well-educated people," he explains. "Now, Mom lives in Nevada and teaches at a local college. Dad ..." He shrugs. "Mom doesn't know where he is, but when he left, he said that he wanted to go as from any of our kind as he could get. I don't think that we'll run into him unless he's become more active than talking."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods and breathes a sigh of relief. She flops down on the stool again, digging back into the half-melted mess of ice cream that remains in the container. "That's good. It's the kind of heartache I wouldn't wish on anybody." Swirling her spoon around, she seems lost in thought.

"Do you think there'll ever be a day where the fighting just... stops? No more 'Friends of Humanity', or any of that. A day where we'd be able to just share the world instead of fighting over being just as human as anyone else... just with a little something extra."

Triage has posed:
Chris eats several spoons of the now partially melted ice-cream that can swirl together to mix the flavors. "I think that losing friends or family is the worst part of this," he admits. "But occasionally we find new friends and family." He looks at Shannon and smiles after swallowing another spoonful. "As for the future, I don't know. I hope. I would be glad for a world where people don't see our gifts as curses. I'd be glad if we never needed to fight Sentinels or other people. I hope that we live to see the day, but at the moment, it seems remote." He spoons the last bite from his pint and drops the spoon into the empty cardboard container. "As long as there are others like us, we're never really alone."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods slowly, and nibbles on the melty, triple taste treat. "It's just been a few months since I got here," she muses. "But it feels like a few lifetimes, with everything that's happened. Two days before my sixteenth birthday, my family made the drive up here with me. They didn't even realize the school was here. They were just tracking down Mr. McCoy, to see if he knew anybody who could help. We lucked out. You could say it was... a wing and a prayer?"

Triage has posed:
Chris smiles, glad to hear Shannon sharing a part of her own story, if not yet the whole. When she ends with that joke, he chuckles. "Do they keep in touch?" he asks. "Are they ... okay with you?" He stands from his stool and grabs his cup. "They should be. You've helped many people, and this is only the beginning."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods, and smiles a bit wider than he usually sees, her wings spreading but not ruffled. "Oh yes. Cannonball and I went on a little road trip back to Connecticut to see them a couple weeks ago, as a matter of fact. Kind of caught them by surprise when I had my image inducer on, they'd gotten so used to seeing the wings. I think they've accepted I can't ever go back home for good. The area's not very mutant-friendly. I think the only reason I was able to stay with them for as long as I did was being homeschooled."

She purses her lips, tucking into her ice cream and concentrating on it for a few minutes, while considering what to say. "It got harder and harder to deal with my powers, and they were really scared that one day, my own gifts could kill me. When we got wind of Mr. McCoy on the news... something about a bus full of kids near the American Museum of Natural History... it was an all-nighter for them trying to find anything they could on where we could talk to him. I don't know where they looked. But I saw that broadcast... Josh was on it, too, never knew he'd become my mentor just a few days later... just the way they handled the whole thing, it kind of stuck with me. Next day, my folks brought me here. Mr. McCoy and miss Munroe were there at the gates."

Triage has posed:
"I'm glad that your parents found him and that you're able to have that contact." Chris crosses the room to drop the empty container and paper towels into a trashcan, and the spoon into the sink for washing later. "That sentiment might change someday and you'll be able to visit or stay as long as you like," he hopes. "Do you have any siblings, beside your adpoted ones in the Guthrie clan?"

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon shakes her head, letting out a heavy sigh. Her wings droop markedly. "No. I almost did, but they were all lost to miscarriage, or crib death. Two sets of twins, and one singleton. I'm the only one who survived." She lets it sink in for him, silent for a few minutes.

Triage has posed:
Chris nods and returns to the desk. "I'm sorry," he replies. "But then, that makes you even more special," he adds with a smile. "Just remember that you're never alone here."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon smiles a little bit, her wings drooping a little bit less. "There were times I felt it, though. Sometimes still do. Just... got to knock me upside the head with it, know what I mean? Does it make more sense now, why I care so much? Why I try so hard? Maybe sometimes a little too hard. Just... I don't like talking about all this much. A lot of other kids here have been through so much worse. I've been comparatively lucky. They haven't. What right have I to say anything, when they've suffered so much worse?" She sighs softly, ducking her head. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she murmurs, "If I could just take away all their suffering, so they could just have a chance... the same chance I've been given...."

Triage has posed:
"We can help," he answers. "Every time when we encourage them, every time when we teach them something that helps them to cope better, we've made a difference," Chris reminds her. He lays his hand on her shoulder for a moment. "We'll do what we can, together."