multiversallogs | with his back to the audience

Who: Charles Xavier, John Allerdyce, and NPC Jacqueline Travieso
What: hi professor this is my spawn i am very sorry about erik please give me a job
Where: Madrasati
When: the Thursday after they spoke
Notes: FYI. Also, anybody who works at Madrasati is welcome to join in, if you feel so moved (PYRO CR IS SO ENTICING I KNOW >_>). Just start a new thread.
Warnings: n/a

It's been awkward, of course. John has little idea of what it takes, day to day, to raise a kid, even one as undemanding as Jacqueline. Just because she doesn't demand his attention, however, doesn't mean she has no need of it, or wouldn't appreciate it. He's not sure what the balance between attentiveness and smothering is, but under the circumstances, erring on the side of the first seems better than the other way around.

She did cry the first night without her mom. It's the first time he's ever really tried to comfort her since she was a baby. He can't be much of a reassurement, but he's better than nothing. He's at least somewhat familiar.

Today, she is interested in the El Train and its procession from Mog Hill to Echomire, peering out the window, examining other passengers, and occasionally giving her new red rain boots a casual but deliberate swing. Ana has never been much for restricting Jacqueline's clothing choices, apart from the safety concerns, and John doesn't intend to be either. Rain boots are practical, as far as he's concerned. And if she wants to wear a maroon... jumper dress thing with a many-pocketed vest, well, fine. Whatever. She's warm, pockets are very practical, it's Baedal, no one cares.

The Madrasati building is sort of old English gloomy, even though it's not terribly overcast today. John conscientiously holds Jacqueline's hand as they proceed up the path. He's not nervous, only concerned, or so he tells himself; there's a low level jitteriness in his mind, a controlled tension in his body and the way he moves, but he's careful with Jacqueline's hand. Jacqueline herself is a bright streak of active awareness, taking in the shrubbery and the house layout with equal curiosity. She is not accustomed to holding hands with an adult anymore but is tolerant of it for John's sake, dimly aware of the meaningfulness behind the gesture as much as the physical comfort it gives both of them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not wanting to interrupt adult conversation, Jacqueline gives Ilyandra a small, silent wave while Charles is turned away, and John nods politely, still taken up in furious composition. When it comes to putting words together, the task at least focuses him, and puts the guilt on a lower priority attention level (which was probably the point).

When the kettle comes and Charles gives her his instructions, Jacqueline promptly sits on the floor like a kid waiting for lego bricks. John rarely enjoys having his things taken apart, and the CiD is off limits for obvious reasons.

"Okay!" Her manner is still somewhat restrained, but she's keen on this kind of task. As she pokes about the kettle's wiry innards, the mental map — supplied in healthy part by previous electronic excursions involving her mom's hair dryer and the television remote — of the kettle grows in organic bursts, like little buds on a bush all opening one after another. She has been told before that microwaves do not actually heat food, but the explanation was a bit much to grasp, and she was then forbidden to take theirs apart with a vague promise of a garage sale microwave in the future. It hadn't happened yet.

As for the outer shell, if it were bigger, it might make a decent replacement for the helmet, she thinks vaguely. Dad can be so curiously protective of his things sometimes...

John breaks off his compulsive wording and rewording to answer Charles. "Uh, it's down to a place suggested by someone on the cohort network in Sangwine, or a bigger one in Aspic."

There's a strange moment when Charles visibly pauses --right about when he picks up on the helmet (what helm-- oh)-- that can be best described as an inward 'hrrk.' If this was a slapstick movie, he would be equipped with a drink to spit out.

"Um, that's uh-- that's good." He clears his throat, stiff upper-lip being put strategically back in place. It's the first time he wonders whether hiring John is a good idea or not. On the one hand, he's not in the habit of straying into people's minds whenever he wants any more. Time and experience in a non-human community have taught him the importance of telepathic etiquette.

And on the other hand, he wants to go into John's mind and soak up every detail of the person he misses so much it's like a physical ache. It's wrong, of course, in an ethical sense and because he knows, he knows he has to distance himself from those feelings and let them erode (if they can) because of how things are now. But part of him wants to hold on, because what then, what then if he doesn't even have that?

Then again, it could be a good thing, to have someone who knows a little bit more than most without having to go into explicit detail. And xenian --mutant, even-- and able to treat him like an autonomous individual. Not to mention Charles could pass on advice to help Jacqueline's ability development. In essence, they could help one another more than hinder.

Speaking of which, "Mm, I know which ones you mean. Both institutions would be a good atmosphere. If anything, I think Jacqueline may need extra tutoring." He says it in a way that also addresses her, not keeping the conversation strictly to the adults. He knew all about people talking about you as though you weren't in the room. "You look at things and you know how they work, but there are gaps there --the whys and whats. We need to help you fill those in."

Back to John. "Some of that you can do together --there's a great science museum, the educational toys they have are ten times better than anything I grew up with, I can get a list of books together that are at Jacqueline's reading level. And if you want the ins and outs explained a little better, we can go over that during the interview."

One other possible plus is the way John is only puzzled by the pause, the little moment of 'augh' Charles evinces — he knows just enough, and yet does not know Charles well enough to read him. That the helmet might be responsible for that reaction is something he should be able to guess, but under the circumstances he's too caught up in the here and now to think of it. His mind has that kind of simplicity, which isn't about his intelligence or lack thereof, but something about him. Jacqueline's mind is rippling little fish of changing colors, and John's is streamlined, focused like an arrow. Occasionally full of guilt, but it is a quiet, maggoty guilt, the presence of which should account for some morals of some kind.

"I'd like that," Jacqueline announces, for John's benefit. She's found it best to state clearly what she likes or doesn't like because John will check with her anyway. "All of that," she clarifies. Yes to museums, toys, books, and Charles. Yes good. All these things are acceptable.

For his part, John is relieved that Charles would recommend both places; he was wondering if the bigger one at Aspic might be rougher, not that Jacqueline has had problems with that before. Aspic is a rougher place in general, but Sangwine is more rural than he's comfortable with, and Sobek Croix real estate seems pricey. Ketch Heath is next to the fucking Spatters, Howl Barrow's night life will drive him and his old person sleeping schedule insane, and he's never actually been to Salacus Fields. And, of course, Aspic is closer to Echomire, if that works out.

"Yeah, I — thank you." John is grateful. He's just also now worrying that he's raising a prodigy and he's not smart enough to do that. Oh god, why isn't Ana here. Ana is really smart. Well, she wouldn't even be here, because she would already know. John fumbles a notebook and pen out of his jacket because that's who he is, writing guy with a million little notes in there that he's dead certain will one day be used as evidence of senility against him. (He's thirty one. But he has had a few head injuries, so.) He glances at Jacqueline again, checking on her state of satisfaction with the current proceedings, and reassured that she seems happy to continue prying at the kettle, looks back at Charles.

"I, uh, will get on those." And enjoy them, his mind scolds the nervous part of himself. You will love the fuck out of being a dad. Maybe that's not the right phrasing. Shut up, just do it. All right, so the arrow-like focus is unraveling a bit, but unlike his eighteen year old self, John very rarely spends any time going he's hearing this isn't he, shhhhhhhhh, lyrics to songs. He would even say if he knew that Charles would be welcome to the memories, but that he should be careful because he might not like what he sees.

It's the sentiment that Charles is attracted to more than anything. When the time comes when he is tempted --when he's having one of his bad days and just wants to see a familiar face, even if it's older and white haired-- he'll say no. There's no point in trying to move backwards and it's a seed of resolve that's starting to be sown in the here and now.

But one thing he does pick up on is John's forethoughts and there's another of those minute pauses. He recollects the post-natal counseling he's done with xenian mothers --but no, that's not accurate, there's no hormonal imbalance and Jacqueline has been alive and known to John for the past seven years. But its the being left alone, being the sole provider and protector of a child in a city like this, those are the feelings and memories of panic and uncertainty that he's reminded of. Only there's not much in the way for part-time fathers suddenly made full-time

To stop what looks like a pause looking like a silence to Jacqueline, Charles takes a pen and paper and makes it look as though he's writing something down. But to John, there's a mental message of, Forgive me for the intrusion, but would it be okay for me to send Jacqueline off with Ilyandra so you and I can talk on a more official capacity? Otherwise I can have her ignore us, if you'd rather she remained in your company.

He doesn't want to presume, after all.

John glances up from where he's jotted a few notes to remind himself later and responds in kind without hesitation: It's fine for her to go.

The implied trust is conscious and the apparent ease with telepathy is not. Behind the fact he seems accustomed to the communication lurk some experiences and memories that have to do with other telepaths, chronological in order of recent exposure. There's Martha, of whom John has an overlapping image of a young black girl and a brain floating in a jar; there are five young blond women who look like less mature versions of Emma Frost; and before that, of course, much vaguer memories of Jean Grey and Charles' older self. And because Martha was kind, he thinks of the hours of telepathic interrogation he's gone through to work for SHIELD more as training. It was necessary and it didn't hurt any more than it had to.

with his back to the audience

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