Owner	Pose
Psylocke	It has been some time indeed since Psylocke has been in the base. Over two years, in fact. She's officially been back to the mansion a couple of days ago, rumors of her return doing the rounds -- despite being in New York for far longer than that -- but none of this means she has access to the X-Men base. Her two-inch heels click on the metal floor as she walks down it. As ever, there's an elegance about the former model, despite the fact she's not in her original body. Her bearing breathes her ancestry, and the thigh-length sundress she's wearing -- a pale yellow with dark brown embroidery -- is probably taken directly from a runway. Betsy's expecting alarms, warnings. It's far more subtle than that. She's just kind of stuck here. And so she crosses her legs, sits down and waits. Well, //floats// and waits. Who wants to sit on the cold ground? Sure, she //could've// called Scott. Arranged a meeting, all that. But this will absolutely get him here, no question. And Betsy's always been fond of dramatic entrances.
Scott Summers	//WARNING// //WARNING// //INTRUDER DETECTED// Flashing red lights are going all throughout the X-Men base underneath the Mansion. The students no doubt blissfully unaware and the sound only available to those actually inside the base or those connected to the network. Though even stranger than that? As Betsy sits down and crosses her legs, she'll hear a voice so familiar and stern that it couldn't be anyone else. "Security Override: Anchorhead XT-9L." //OVERRIDE CODE: ACCEPTED. WELCOME, CYCLOPS// Unlike Psylocke, Scott was dressed casually. Dressed in blue jeans and converse shoes. A dark green longsleeve shirt, ruby-quartz shades over his eyes. He steps closer to Betsy, and he doesn't take a seat but he does keep his hands in his pockets. "Betsy. Long time no see."
Psylocke	Betsy doesn't crack an eye, but there is a slight smile when Scott walks closer. Though Scott's probably well aware, given she's using her telekinetic ability to hold herself aloft, that she can't reach out to him telepathically, it seems like she knows who it is even before he speaks. That smile is too familiar, otherwise. "Scott," comes her British tones, surprisingly warm. Her eyes open a moment later, violet gaze settling on him and taking a long look, the smile brightening. "You're looking good. I seem to have been locked out. I imagine it has something to do with disappearing abruptly," she notes, dryly, as she uncrosses her legs and floats to the ground. "Some administrative error, perhaps?" She knows it's not, but she does enjoy teasing. He takes security seriously, and she often -- before -- tested the bounds of that, and possibly his patience, too.
Scott Summers	Ah, the carefully vague Betsy Braddock back again with her wit and general mystique. Not a hint of where she's been...though Scott has always kept tabs on former members of the X-Men, incase their secrets were ever revealed or they came back looking for a fight. Betsy was no different, but she's always been a close friend. Even still, Scott seems aware that because she's using telekinesis, she can't reach out to him telepathically. Or at least, she won't. "It's what happens when you go away for awhile. The system goes through a reset every couple of months, to keep the access codes a secret and to protect the base." He remarks softly. He smiles at Betsy though. "It's good to see you again, Bets. Where've you been?"
Psylocke	"You're mad at me, aren't you?" Betsy concludes, with a tilt of her head. She /could/ be using her telepathy. He might never know. But she's really not; they're friends and he knows that little quirk at the edge of her mouth, teasing. "Passive aggressively locking me out -- or into the base, in this case," she gestures to the metal hallway, "Is a great way for a conversation." Which is exactly why she chose this method of approach. The purple-haired woman sways closer, one hand reaching as if to rest on his arm, as she goes to air kiss his cheek. She doesn't have to go far, given the two inches of her heels puts her just an inch below his height, her voice warm. "It's good to see you too, Scott. Oh, you know. Jetsetting around Europe, buying clothes." He's probably heard from the reports Illyana put in about her being in Madripoor recently, with (though maybe not /with/) Magneto. Other rumors, coming from sources all over: Japan, almost certainly. Paris, England, Rome, highly lightly. Nepal may be more of a surprise, but that particular source had substantiation to it. Whatever it was, no matter how flippant she's being, it was not merely a jetsetting jaunt she was on. Not with Japan, and not with Nepal and Madripoor thrown in. And then there's that look in her eye, a kind of knowing she dares to keep from her countenance, the weight of something unspoken. All Betsy says with a hand on her hip and a smile is, "Are you going to invite me in?"
Scott Summers	"No." Scott wasn't angry with her. Not in the slightest. He /was/, however, slightly suspicious, but that's no reason to exclude her from X-Men activity. They're friends, though he acknowledges that she's teasing him. Time with Jean has helped with that knowledge considerably. "Oh, you'rem essing with me." Scott shakes his head softly. Though her approach is met warmly. The air-kiss next to his cheek is met with one of his own, his hand gently resting on her side in a kind of half-hug or simply welcoming of the European style of greeting that he's not quite used to but not unfamiliar with. "And in Madripoor. Though I think there's some major businesses trying to get on the island." Scott /knows/. It's his job to know. He could name everywhere she's been based on word of mouth and with Cerebro. Granted, he wasn't a telepath so Cerebro was useless to him, but Jean could do it. Emma could do it. Charles /does/ it. He clears his throat though, humming. "May as well. Are you back? Or are you simply visiting?" He turns on his heel and starts to walk towards a sitting area, wordlessly inviting her along.
Psylocke	When he concludes Betsy is messing with him, Betsy answers, "No," in precisely the same tone as he denied being angry with her. It holds for maybe two seconds, before she laughs, softly. "You can't say you haven't missed me messing with the security, Scott. Testing only makes it stronger." At least, that was always her philosophy -- excuse -- one that, in true fashion, forced adjustments to get around her probing, ninja-taught tactics. The tell is the slight twitch in her cheek when he mentions Madripoor. Subtle, but present, only for someone that knows her well. "Madripoor was a mess," she says, breezily. "Something set up, I rather suspect, to try and put Magneto in the cross hairs. I thought it might've been him, at first, but it wasn't. So something, some other group is at play. Figures, monsters, perhaps, in brown robes, searching for something." It's nothing that wasn't in the report. It's not artful play though, she's sharing what she thinks may be important. Or maybe not. She's always been one to mask herself. Even when she's not hiding. Other psychics can't sense her by default. Even Cerebro has difficulty finding her when she doesn't want to be found -- and she /hasn't/ wanted to be found. Her last cellphone ping was from a tower near LaGuardia two years ago, and nothing since then other than those vague reports of a purple haired woman. Betsy hums faintly at his question. "I'm back," she answers, slipping a hand through his arm as she lengthens her stride just sufficiently to keep pace. Her fingertips are light, the touch without thinking. It's just the world she was brought up in, mannerisms of aristocracy she extended to those around her. "At, I perceive, just the right time." Her smile deepens. "Jean tells me things have been fractious here of late. That a lot of people have gone their own way?" the tilt of head seeks his perspective.
Scott Summers	"I don't know if I've missed you specifically messing with the system, but you've been missed around here. So much mischief failed to happen because you were elsewhere." Scott teases her ever so slightly. Her laugh is a welcome addition to these quiet halls, as if she had brought new life to them. Yet, Scott knows her well enough to know her tells. The only tell he doesn't truly know is Logan's. Why? Because Logan's entire personality is his tell. It happens everytime they talk. "I believe you. Magneto's been an enigma of late. He's not playing by old rules, but I recently found Magneto in Cairo looking for those brown cloaks you mentioned. I'm trying to learn more." He informs of Betsy in a show of trust. Yet, even as he walks he feels the slender arm of Psylocke slipping through and around his own to take it. Though he seems to allow the touch. "Yeah...plenty of things have happened, plenty of things we need answers for...and plenty of things we have a plan for. Jean is right, always is lately, but there's a lot of us who've gone their own path. It's...inspiring to have you back." Closest they've been to a good core team in awhile.
Psylocke	"Well, either way, I'll absolutely count it as a win," comes Betsy's genuinely delighted tones. This, Betsy as her true self, is warm and generous and readily likable -- it's the other part of her personality, Kwannon -- that's the cold, distant one. The changes come swiftly and unexpectedly, but appear to be holding at bay, today. Her fingers squeeze his arm, just lightly. "Then I'm sure you're /delighted/ to have me back to make sure things haven't slipped while I've been gone." She'll be kind. She'll wait at least a week before she tries to deliberately set off -- or not -- the alarms. Betsy doesn't look too surprised by the news he shares. "Cairo appeared to be where those browncloaks were headed next. Unfortunately the man we found had no idea what item they were looking for, so it's more a case of playing catch up," she exhales a long breath. "Magneto has a lot to lose, in Genosha. And I doubt he would risk it by inciting Madripoor. It's denizens aren't much for the whole working together thing, but it would sure inspire a lot of ill will if it was believed an attack like that was at the hands of mutants." There's just the tap of her heels against the hallway as she considers his words, letting him guide their destination. Not much has changed inside the base and it doesn't pull her attention. "That might not be a bad thing," she says, quietly. "Going our own way, for some of us." Just a slight crease in her brow. "The X-Men have a purpose. But it's not the only path to where we need to get. It can't be," she sounds almost apologetic for that, strangely. Then again, he might not be surprised: she, like Logan, like others, has always been a lot more flexible in how willing she's been to bend the rules, since she was bodyswapped with Kwannon. Cold efficiency, thy name is Kwannon. But it's pure Betsy that says, "Inspiring?" with another of those warm laughs. "Is that your subtle way of saying you want me to punch some people in the face? You don't have to say it. Just slip me the names, and I'll take care of it," she promises, teasingly.
Scott Summers	"Mhm." Scott chuckles ever so warmly. She was likeable. Charming. Though Scott hasn't met too much of Kwannon, he's well aware of Betsy Braddock's capabilities in a team setting and on her own. It's not truly surprising that she never lost her edge nor her skills ever dulled. Her fingers squeeze his arm and they get him to turn those red-lensed eyes towards her. "Heh. If anything, you'll at least be present in the alarms go off again. Though I would imagine the next time they did? It would be from an /actual/ intruder." Scott then seems to hum softly as he gets morei nformation from Betsy about the subject. They were playing catch up. But at least she admitted she was with Magneto. A man who has a lot to lose in Genosha and Madripoor both...and in his followers in mutantkind everywhere. Even as they walk together, he nods softly. "Yeah..." He considers. "I've been thinking of reaching a truce with Magneto. Though we're all of so many different ideologies I don't know if it's possible. But if we can find an empasse...that would help smooth things over. Stop these brown cloaks before they cause too much damage." Enemy of my enemy is my friend. "Yeah." He doesn't lie about it. "I've got a list."
Psylocke	"It's certainly a way to make sure I visit the base more often. Though I'm very glad you were prompt at attending, and didn't hold it against me by making me wait for longer." Something Betsy doesn't expect to continue, judging by her rueful tones. The silence after he reveals he's considering a truce is telling. Betsy being cautious, thinking before she speaks. Or maybe it's Kwannon, given the cool, brusque tone that accompanies the single word: "Good." Several more steps, her stride unchanging. "There's more and more of our kind who think he's not wrong." And Betsy's aware she's not telling Scott anything he doesn't know; not telling him anything they haven't talked -- argued -- about before. "We both want the same thing, at it's core -- we want our kind to be safe." They just want to achieve them in two very different ways. And he might well suspect Betsy -- or Kwannon, at least -- sides with Magneto more than not. Yet there's a return of Betsy's warmth in her voice at the last, amused: "Good. I'm always happy to help out an old friend."
Scott Summers	"You? Glad for me to be somewhere? That's a first." Scott Summers, thy art a cheeky bitch. Though she seems rueful and playfully, he gives her a bump with his hip. "Chin up." He encourages her softly. "You never know." Yet her silence is deafening in regards to a truce with Magneto. "Yeah...and many who don't think we're wrong either. But the message needs to be the same. It can't be might makes right." Scott remarks. "All he needs to know is that I'm willing to open the door...and he has to make the same choice." He remarks softly. And while he is suspicious of Betsy...she seeks to be with the angels. "Then let's put you to work. There's some Friends of Humanity starting to get riled up again.."
Psylocke	"Not /a/ first," Betsy counters with a smile. "I /was/ glad that time you appeared in Germany just in time to stop that mutant burning my hair off. You never told me quite how you knew where I was, or that I'd need help." And yet, now, as then, she does not ask. Some things she prefers not to know, and it's still true that she trusts him. Even with Kwannon weighing in. "I'm glad, that you want to open the door." Betsy comes to a halt, and by virtue of her hand being on Scott's arm, intends to pull him to a stop also. Her violet eyes are sober, serious, as she examines him, the tilt of head she gives at the end all Betsy. "You've grown in the time I've been gone, Scott, and I like what I see." Her smile spreads, like the growing sun, and as he turns the topic to current events, she resumes the walk, heading for the war room now, leaning close to listen. "Ah, our old friends," comes Kwannon's cool tones, as they walk, just a hint of anticipation in the ninja's voice.