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It's an idyllic day outside Charles Xavier's secluded mansion and private school. Blue skies scudded with clouds overhead, a gentle breeze ruffling the verdant grass below: the grounds present the picturesque ideal of summertime in upstate New York.
There is also a steadily growing noise in the distance, starting below the threshold of hearing, scaling upward gradually. A speck of light, easily mistaken for a distant airplane, detaches from one of the puffs of cloud cover, sinking earthward. The sound grows from a buzz to an unsettling vibratory thrum. Whatever that flying object is, it's headed this way. And fast.
Almost before any onlookers have a chance to react, the inbound rocket is upon them, driving into the perfectly groomed lawn with a deafening roar. Tons of earth and uprooted plants are blasted into the air above a cratered groove nearly 50 yards long. The noise abruptly ceases, replaced by the patters and splats of sod and soil raining down.
From the terminus of the crash landing, a lanky boy utterly covered in dirt suddenly springs up, tottering drunkenly as he tries to remove a newly opaque pair of goggles. He's shouting, "Ah'm okay! Ah'm okay! Totally fine!" at the top of his lungs when he trips on the uneven ground he just created and flops back down onto his face.
Logan had been sitting on front steps, taking a smoke and enjoying a bit of fresh air. He was thinking about building himself a little shack or something on the grounds - being in the main building wasn't exactly his usual style, although he liked bein' close in case of an emergency. But he wasn't used to so damn many people around - not to mention he could hear most everything going on at night and, well, when you got teenagers in the house, that ain't always ideal.
When he hears the buzz approaching, he pushes up and squints, taking in the approaching rocket. "Well, ain't that somethin'," he mutters to himself, watching as Cannonball faceplants into the lawn.
"Chuck's gonna need to hire a landscaper," he smirks.
As for Nancy - well, she was enjoying the sun. One of the quieter teens in the mansion, she had a book - one leg folded over the other for modesty in her dress, one of her gauntleted hands holding the thing open as her fingers track down the page with her other hand. She was mouthing some of the words to herself, after all. At least, until that sound pierces her hearing. Glancing up, unaware at first, her eyes nonetheless widen as the 'rocket' sails towards terra firma. At the same moment, those inside the mansion might notice the lights going dim. Just for a flicker of a moment.
And Nancy's eyes turn blue, electricity bleeding from her in those moments. Throwing her book aside, she starts to move, almost faster than the eye can see - taking a handful of steps to the side. Although at her faster speed, she glances up towards the rocket, and notices…
"Izzpsssn!" she announces to the world at large, her tone and voice garbled with her speed. That was right about when Sam hit. Leaking bolts of electricity, arcing towards fence and ground, Nancy releases the excess energy in a burst of power, leaning forward, resting her hands on her knees.
"I believe there is something called 'knocking'," she states, a bit matter of factly - lifting her tone to be heard over the grounds.
Staying Connected!
Angel is far above, being one of those mutants who can fairly liberally travel along a 'y' axis. Although he's soaring high above the mansion, high enough to look like a bird himself, his keen eyes do pick up on the racket below and the fast-approaching rocket. Rather than looking on in interest or amazement, he looks on in /horror/.
From where he circles and soars, he suddenly drops into a dive down towards the ground. Today, it wouild appear he's chosen to wear a pair of rather simple grey sweat pants and a red version of his college la crosse practice shirt. There have been slits cut into the material for the expansive 16-foot wingspan that helps slow his descent when he's closer to the ground.
There is no explosion, so he flies in closer to investigate. The powerful beat of his wings sends any loose, light things whipping into the air while the wind from his flapping disquiets the ground below him.
"Is everyone okay?" he asks, blinking at the emerging…freckled kid. There is a look of confusion and a dawning that there are some things about this school he'll probably never get used to. A glance is given to Logan as well as a polite nod of his head, though Warren's blue eyes do settle on him for a good moment to consider. The attention then seems to be on Guthrie. "Uh…what do we do if they need medical attention?"
The zip in of Surge also has him reeling just a little bit. He doesn't speak to her just yet, but he does take a moment to stare. Because who wouldn't?
"Owwww!" the newcomer wails, his voice unnecessarily loud. He swivels back upright, clutching his nose. The crash landing doesn't seem to have fazed him in the slightest; tripping over his own feet, on the other hand, bloodied him a bit. "Hello? Ain't anyone there? Ah think Ah need a tissue!" He's still yelling, and still stumbling around blinded by goggles completely covered in dirt. As clumps of soil fall off of him, his outfit, at least, becomes identifiable: a battered bomber jacket over pale blue jeans and a pair of Chuck Taylors with one of the toes worn bare.
"Ah might have busted up some stuff, but Ah can fix it, don't worry!" he continues to yell. "Just point me in the direction of a shovel and some gloves and Ah'll have the place lookin' just right before you can say…" He finally pulls his goggles up onto his forehead, revealing two bright rings of clear, pink skin, and two eyes that immediately bug out to nearly the same diameter when he sees the destruction that he has wrought and the crowd that has gathered. "Okay… okay… Ah might need more than a shovel. Y'all got a backhoe?"
As he continues to yell, not to mention ignore everything said to him, it will become more and more obvious that after a few hours of exposure to that roaring noise he rode in on, his hearing isn't in the best possible shape. He stares at Nancy when she approaches, a look of panic crossing his face as a filthy hand runs through his equally filthy hair. "Aw, shoot, please tell me I ain't landed in China. I can't have overshot that much." He staggers back as Warren alights nearby, nearly tripping again. "Y'all got a school for mutants in China, too?!"
Logan snorts, "Guessin' this kid's gonna need a geography class, at least," he says. "I'm startin' t'wonder how good Chuck is at keepin' this place secret, though, if folks just start showin' up outta the blue like this. What, did somebody write down the address on a bathroom wall or somethin'? Mutants lookin' fer a good time, head t'Westchester?"
Still, he seems more bemused than anything, nodding to Warren and the chick as he approaches. He doesn't know either of them, but that doesn't bother him. He ain't exactly a big socializer. Warren he's heard about at least. "You must be the Angel," he says.
"There's… a medical bay," Surge says - bringing up a hand to brush the gauntlet through her hair - leftover energy was crackling through her, the gloves weren't a perfect ground. The viewports in the gloves, well, they were basically glowing, and a scent of burning electrics was lingering about her, as well. Waving her arms to the side as if that might help disappate the heat, she purses her lips a touch, her eyes tracking to Warren at first. He stares at her.
Surge cants her head to one side, and stares at him, lips pursing just a touch more. "Beautiful wings," she ends up saying, her voice still bearing a light accent.
But it was Sam that draws her attention most of all. "I am afraid that you would have to ask the Chinese," she says, her jaw tightening just a touch. But her tone remains civil, and pleasant. "If you wanted to go there, you should have flown over the ocean - and most of Europe," she adds.
Logan draws her attention last. "Would that be such a bad thing? To let those who need this place, know of it?" she asks, finally straightening up, blue fading from her eyes back towards brown. She pats her hair down, trying to keep the perm in place. It wasn't, really.
Some obscure tale of exotic mannerisms surfaces in Sam's memory, and he offers Nancy an exaggerated bow. He doesn't seem to have noticed her annoyance with his ignorant remark, but he's got more where it came from. "Oh, good — you speak English! Ah ain't crossed no oceans. Ah don't really do oceans," he says breathlessly, a tremor in his voice. His voice is gradually lowering to a manageable volume — probably a good sign. "If Ah went under, Ah couldn't see to steer, Ah wouldn't be able to stop… who knows if Ah'd even be able to breathe! No thanks."
He shakes his head and turns to the others, taking in some of Warren's non-wing features and seeing Logan for the first time. "So I guess I ain't in China! I was gonna say, this house looks just like the photos. Be one heck of a coincidence!" Picking the oldest-looking one of the bunch, he asks Logan directly, "Is this Professor Zavier's school?" He fumbles in his pocket to retrieve an envelope, containing a letter of acceptance and a color brochure — complete with photos and a map. "Ma got a letter from Professor Zavier saying he read about me in the paper and offerin' me a scholarship and everythin'."
A sudden look of horror hits his features. "Aw shoot, I'm so rude, y'all're gonna think I was raised in a barn. Sam Guthrie!" He extends his hand, first toward Logan, then, waveringly, toward each of the others.
Warren rests his wings neatly against his back and moves quickly towards the kid to try to help him up at least. He doesn't have any tissues on his own person, so he looks to Surge. "Do you have any sort of…bandages or anything?" he asks her, still a little wide-eyed at the displays of powers present. All save for Logan, that is. A snort of a short laugh is given in response to his statement. "You didn't see the billboard on the onramp?" he jokes while trying to get a closer look at Cannonball.
"I'm the Angel," he answers Logan with a nod of his head. "You can call me Warren, though." For those 'in the know', his face is a rather familiar one having been on the cover of Forbes and Fortune 500 just a little over a year ago when he became the CEO of Worthington Industries. "Is there a first aid kit somewhere or…?" But the kid actually seems to be okay despite the little bit of blood and likely a headache.
"I…a backhoe? Don't you need a bandage or something?" Warren looks utterly confused by Cannonball, clearly debating whether or not he should be getting professional medical help.
Looking to Surge once more, he considers the girl for a longer moment. "You have an excellent point there," he tells her. "Though right now…things are a little dangerous. Still…do you know anything about…?" There's a gesture then to the half-buried Cannonball before he moves closer to start digging him out.
Guthrie doesn't look the type to read Forbes or recognize CEOs on sight. He eagerly accepts Warren's assistance, getting dirt everywhere, and transferring a bit of blood from his palm, specifically. "Aww, it's just a bloody nose, nothin' to worry about. A tissue or two should do it."
Logan nods as Cannonball provides his credentials and cocks his head at Surge, "Those what need it, no. But, if you ain't been up on the papers, some folks out there gotta mighty hankerin' to put mutants in the ground. An' not in the funny way like Big Country here," he says.
"Don't get me wrong, more'n welcome, I just wanna make sure you kids stay safe is all," he says. He takes Sam's hand and gives it a firm shake, "Logan," he says.
Staying Connected!
Nancy pauses a handful of moments at the bow - manners drummed into her as she grew warring with the newfound freedom and expression she had found here in America. She elects towards the polite, returning his exaggerated bow with one of her own, done shallow and quick - but correct. "Yes. The schools insisted on English - and some at the base helped me practice," she says, pursing her lips a touch. Her tone was a bit tense.
She relaxes her stance, especially as he identifies how he knows of the school. "Sam Guthrie, it is nice to meet you - I am Nancy," she says, bringing up a hand to gesture towards herself. Most of the red-hot of the wires had faded at this point. Warren draws her glance next as he talks to her, and she shakes her head. "I could run in and get some, I know where they are," she says… a beat, and she glances back towards Sam. "Although, I am not sure he needs them," she says, dipping a hand into one of the pockets on her dress, and offering him a handkerchief. It had a flower stitched upon one corner.
Nancy shakes her head at Warren. "It sounds like… the professor invited him, however," she says, moving to stand near the impact crater - to offer that tissue.
To Logan, she glances. "I have heard about that. I met one of the other teachers, and we spoke about it in mutant town. It is…" she purses her lips. "A bad situation, yes?"
With the kid up and around, Warren doesn't fuss over him anymore. What he does is look very curious. "How does someone survive being a human lawn dart?" That is the question, isn't it? "Nice to meet you, Sam. I'm Warren." His brows still do furrow just a touch even as he reaches out to return the handshake with a firm one of his own. "Sorry. I'm fresh out of tissue." He gives him a sympathetic look.
Shifting his attention to Logan then and getting his hand back, he gives a slow nod of his head to him. "Safe is…increasingly difficult to attain. Good to see someone's working on it, though." A half-smile is given as well as a light shrug. "Nice to meet you, anyways."
Another furtive look is given to Sam before he settles his gaze on Surge then. "I think he's alright, yeah." he replies before looking back to Sam again. "Hey, aren't you supposed to pinch your nose and tilt your head back or something?" Taking a moment to rub and ruffle the hair at the back of his head, he finally just shrugs to Surge. "I'm Warren, by the way." He hasn't met her either, so he extends a hand.
"Ah've noticed, Mr. Logan. Folks sure did look at me funny, past few months. Heck, before that, Ah was pretty scared of mutants myself," Sam says, shaking the Canadian's hand with a laugh worthy of the nickname he has just received. "But Ah'm very pleased to meet y'all now. Nancy and Warren." He repeats the names, committing them to memory.
A grin, muddy and bloody, is flashed unselfconsciously at Warren. "Ha! Sorry, Ah kinda forget that's a surprise to folks. Ah'm nigh-invulnerable when Ah'm blasting — so crash landin' ain't a problem, but trippin' over my own two feet is."
He hesitates before taking Nancy's handkerchief, suddenly seeming to realize just how dirty he is. He handles the cloth gingerly, wearing an embarrassed grimace, then wraps it around his nose and tilts his head back, as instructed by Warren. "Thang oo, Mizz," he says nasally.
Logan nods, "Workin' on it, anyway. Me an' some o' the others 'round here," he says. "Nancy, huh? Interestin' name for a girl from Nippon," he says, then adds in Japanese, «You're a long way from home, kid.»
"Reckon you'll fit in well enough. Ain't nothin' but misfits here anyways," he says. "An' it's just Logan. I ain't never been much of a mister. "
Staying Connected!
After her handkerchief was taken, Nancy looks to Warren, her expression and eyes calm in spite of the destruction. And she manages to smile, extending a hand to Warren to take his in a grasp. The gloves of her arm apparati were a thick leather, so there was no chance of a shock. Her grasp was barely there, and light, besides. "Nancy Ashida, and it is nice to meet you as well, Warren - do you live here as well?" she asks him.
Unlike the other, she had been reading almost voraciously since coming here, so now that she has a good look at Warren, she tilts her head to the side, as if really seeing him. "Weren't you in an economics magazine, once?" she asks. "As a… business leader?"
A handful of moments, and she smiles at something Sam says, "I was frightened of mutants even after coming here. Mutant town is an excellent place to visit, if you would wish to confront that fear," she adds. A handful of moments, and she blinks in surprise that nears shock towards Logan as he speaks to her like that. "Ah, I took the name Nancy when I came over here, I…" she pauses a moment, letting her smile turn a bit lopsided and pursed. "…wanted to fit in," she adds. "It is Noriko, actually, and, well." She continues, in Japanese, «I do not think I have met a foreigner that speaks as well as you do - where did you learn it?» she asks, her tone of voice legitimately curious.
Warren dips his head in a nod to Sam and does what he can to beam a not-so-confused smile at him. "Hey, no problem for me, but…yikes." He gestures back over to the crater Sam left. "That's going to be a tough one to explain. Charles probably already has guys. He has guys, right?" This question more directed to Logan now. "Landscaping guys, I mean."
Once more, he looks to Nancy when she introduces herself. The calm she seems to possess does draw a curious look from him, but he's no less gracious. "It's a pleasure, Nancy. Um…I do have a room here? I told Charles he could use it for someone else, though. I'm not that far a flight from the city, in truth." The next question has him nodding his head as well. "Mm. Worthington Industries is a family legacy. A legacy that I hope can do some good for mutantkind."
While he does not speak Japanese, he does look to Nancy and Logan as they speak to each other in the foreign language. Mutant Town is a recognizable topic, though. "The Village isn't a bad place to go either," he notes, adding to Nancy's statement about Mutant Town.
Logan shrugs, «I lived there, many years ago. I learned a great deal there - how to fight, how to eat, how to drink saki. How to be a man with honor. Not that I was ever very good at that myself. But I tried.» he says. «Someday, I would very much like to return.»
He was there sometimes during the war, too, but the circumstances then were very different. He doesn't like to think about that much. He did what he had to do, but what he had to do wasn't very nice.
"Wouldn't be surprised if we got a student or somethin' that can fill it in with a flick o' their finger. I know there's the one girl that can make lava an' shit come up," he says. He nods a bit at the mention of Mutant Town, although he hasn't spent much time there. He doesn't think much of ghettos - usually just a way of rounding everyone up in one place for easy pickings.
A little smile from Nancy, as Warren says what he does about the landscaping. "If he doesn't, he has staff and students, most of whom are on summer vacation," she says. A note of hidden wryness in her tone. A moment more, and she inclines her head to the CEO. "You seem as though you feel very proud of your legacy there. And I am certainly glad to hear that you are planning on using that legacy to benefit mutants as a whole… is it you who funds Professor Xavier?" she asks.
Glancing to check on Sam briefly as he fiddles with his bloody nose, she sighs a touch. Although she brightens a moment as he mentions… "The Village? Which part of the city is that, if I can ask?" asks Nancy.
Logan continues speaking to her, and she gives him her full attention, narrowing her eyes a bit - and nodding at points in his dialogue. "I can say that I am not very good at honor, myself," says Nancy. A little ghost of a smile at the edge of her lips. "And I am not certain that I wish to return," she responds, in English. The curse he used causes her eyes to widen, but only briefly, with Nancy looking towards Warren. "Amara. From South America," she says. "We practiced in the Danger Room together - abusing poor dummies," she says, with a smile at the end.
There's a smile on Warren's lips as Nancy speaks, though the mention of being proud of his legacy does have him clenching his jaw just a touch; just the slightest of facial ticks to belie displeasure of the statement. With a smile, though, he inclines his head in a gracious nod to Nancy. "No. I don't feel pride. But I can make it something I'm proud of." The smile on his lips softens after a moment as does his expression.
There's another glance back to Logan and another quick nod of his head. "Amara, yes. I've met her as well. We were at the ah…" There's a gesture and not much of a willingness to talk about it. "I think she'd actually make it worse. I can have landscaping guys here in three hours and done shortly thereafter, but I think Charles probably has people he uses for security purposes." As he moves over to Sam to place a hand on his shoulder and help guid him in the direction of the front door, perhaps, he speaks again to Nancy. "We haven't discussed finances. He's been keeping busy with other things, as I have myself. I do need to talk to Charles soon, though."
Sam's discomfort with the foreign language and adults who don't want to be addressed with an honorific is enough to push him out of the conversation for a while. He inspects the damage to the lawn with growing embarrassment, scratching his head and shoving larger clumps of fallen dirt into the crater with his beat-up sneakers.
Finally, the talk of landscapers and mutant solutions brings him back, worried blue gaze flicking from face to face. "Now, y'all don't have to get carried away. Ah can take care of it," he says, his tone halfway between reassuring and pleading with the others. "Ah had to do all kinds of earth-movin' back on the farm. It's a big job, sure, but once Ah get all the dirt in place and pack it down, we can put a layer of sod on top and it'll look good as new." He looks around with a hopeful grin, teeth bright except where they're still tinted with blood. He's wearing a layer of New Kid anxiety even thicker than the one of dirt.
When Warren's hand falls on his shoulder, he sighs, surrendering, and lets himself be led toward the school's entrance. "Guess Ah'd better face the music. Nancy, Ah'll wash your hankie and get it back to you, soon as I can," he promises.
Logan grins, "Let the kid do the work if he wants. Ain't no harm in it. Hell, I'll get a shovel and lend a hand if ya want. Might do good to sweat a bit," he says.
To Nancy's remark about returning, he nods, "I think it might be hard to go back. I'm sure it's different. I wanna see it, but at the same time…I know it won't ever be the same as it was. Ain't that true o' everything, though," he says. He lights a fresh cigarette off its predecessor, heading over towards the maintenance hutch to get some shovels, "Go ahead and git yerself settled in there, Sammy boy, an' then we'll show the rich kid how the workin' man earns his keep," he grins, obviously teasing.
Nancy does notice that little facial tic from Warren, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. But with his statement, she inclines her head, letting her smile broaden as his own softens. "Try your best," she encourages, sounding sincere. Glancing up, and to one side a bit before Warren starts leading Sam in the direction of the door, Nancy pauses. "The Professor is often busy, as I am sure you know - but I also know he makes the time for even the smallest of conversation," she says. A beat, and she smiles wryly. "As I am certain that you know," she adds.
It is Sam she speaks to next, however, trotting a few steps to catch up with the pair. "Please don't worry - I think that we will all just be excited to have a new student here," she says. "So let me say what should have been said at the beginning - welcome to Xavier's Institute, Sam. I hope that you find a safe home here," she says. As for the handkerchief… "Thank you - but you can keep it, if you would like. They are inexpensive," she says.
What Logan says at the end, she inclines her head, once. "They are… very interested in mutants right now. My father did not believe that they existed, therefore… I ceased existing to him," she says. She was looking at Logan's face with a discerning eye, as if she were trying to discover something about him. "When did you last visit?" she asks. A beat, though - they were heading into the mansion. "I can go see if there are some sandwiches or something to make. I am certain that Sam is hungry after his… flight," she says.
Warren gives Sam's shoulder a friendly, warm sort of squeeze. "I'm sure it's not going to be any sort of big thing. And if you need a hand out here, I'm fine with helping." He relinquishes Sam's shoulder after a moment. "Although I'm pretty sure this 'city boy' has no idea what you're talking about and you'll have to show me." There's a smirk on his lips once more before he looks back to the others.
There's a glance back to Logan at the 'rich boy' comment. Though he looks as if he's about to say something, he decides against it. Instead, he flicks his attention to Nancy and clears his throat. "That's the plan. I just don't want to take /too/ much action without some serious talks about it first." It's not that he's disinterested in the condition of Japan. Not by a longshot. Atrocities too fresh keep him from speaking up for the moment. "Sandwiches sound good," he says to Surge, though his tone is a bit more distant.
Guthrie hitches up the backpack that seems to be all the luggage he brought with him, turns to the others, and grins. "Ah sure appreciate it, all of you," he answers. "Ah might have got off on the wrong foot, but it's all uphill from here." Keep telling yourself that, kid. "After Ah drop my stuff off in the bunks, Ah'll be right back to get shovelin' — and it's sure to be hungry work." This last is said to Nancy with a grateful nod. Sam may not know much about geography or racial sensitivity, but a bit of physical labor ought to put him back in his comfort zone.
He smiles over at Warren at the squeeze, feeling a little bolder for the friendliness, and asks, "Do you know where students stay, here? It's a big-lookin' buildin', and Ah'd hate to get lost." Shortly afterward, the pair disappear into the mansion.
Nancy follows the two men a handful of steps behind - catching the door as it was opened, no doubt, and slipping inside. "Well, if you're looking for the rooms where people stay, you take the stairs that are straight ahead, and that will lead you to the dorms," says Nancy - gesturing towards a grand staircase dead ahead. "I'd imagine you can set your things in a room that looks empty - in the boy's dorm, of course - even if I'm not really a teacher or anything here. But that's what I did on my first day, and no one has said anything yet," says Nancy, with a wryness.
"I myself will be down this hall - towards the cafeteria," she states.
Warren doesn't know his way around the mansion nearly as well as the student that lives her or the older man she's currently engaged in conversation with. Logan seems to be content with going off to do his own thing, so he beckons Surge over. "Could you give me a hand with the grand tour?" he asks with a smile. "It's Nancy, right? Or do you prefer Noriko?" Blue eyes settle on her for that moment to await her answer, but they are all moving and soon disappearing into the mansion proper.
Warren's rather warm and charming disposition doesn't falter in the slightest. Everything about his posture and the way he gestures as he speaks belies a high comfort level with having the stage, as it were. "I guess it's only fair that I go first? I'm not sure how the welcome wagon thing goes, to be honest." There's a short laugh and a slight wrinkle of his nose proceeding those words. "I'm Warren, but they call me Angel. My power is, well…" He stops and shoots a wink to Nancy. "Beautiful wings." Again he laughs and then gestures vaguely towards his own room. "Mine is empty and secure." To Sam then, he nods towards the door to his own room. "You can keep your stuff in there for now."
"Wait — a whole room?" Sam stops short and stares at Nancy, then Warren, mouth slightly agape. "Are y'all kiddin'?" He leans into Warren's room and peers around: it's well-furnished and, to his eyes, very obviously unlived-in. "Ah figured we'd be bunked up like in a barracks, or at least have roommates." He pulls his backpack off one strap at a time, slowly setting it down as if he expects an alarm to go off. It flops and folds on itself, obviously containing very little. "Maybe the rooms are for the students who pay, and they've got a different place for scholarship kids?" He looks almost desperate for this to be the case. "Ah ain't had my own room since before I can even remember."
Stopping as she takes a handful of steps out towards the cafeteria, Nancy pauses as Warren addresses her, turning in place. "Either is fine… Nancy is probably easier, yes?" she says. And not listening to the 'ri' in her name get butchered all day is probably a side benefit of the English name. Brown eyes meet those blue in that moment, but she tilts her head just a bit, her smile subtle.
Eyes draw away.
"I always found it a bit strange to introduce our powers as well - but I am Nancy - and they call me Surge. I… react to electricity - without these gauntlets, it is just about uncontrollable," she says, lifting her hands. Basically, the gauntlets were acting as a way to disappate the excess electricity she gains just by being around it. As she displays those gauntlets, the white plastic cover has clear viewports - a spark dances across the wires seen in that port.
"But yes, you get a whole room. If we fill up with mutants, perhaps that will change, but right now - I feel we have more beds, and space, than we have people to use it," she says, leading the way up the stairs. "At the top of the stairs is Professor Xavier's office - you should certainly take the time to visit with him, and introduce yourself. He'll get you set in with the sort of education you'll begin with, in the summer. Do you have any schooling yet?" she asks Sam, glancing towards Warren briefly.
While he doesn't completely butcher 'Noriko', he doesn't get it exactly right either. "Nancy then," he says to her with a cheery smile. He seems content enough with this. There is a mental note taken to learn her other name better, though. The brief eye contact only causes a brief pause in his warm manner as well as a moment of silence.
"Right," Warren says with a short laugh in response to her words finally. "Oh, I guess I shouldn't make it seem mandatory. I'm just a bit curious is all. I'm pretty obvious, but so many are less so. So you can…zip around on electricity?" he asks, brows raising upwards.
Sam's question of a room draws his attention once more back to him then. Nancy answers it, but he nods his head along with that answer. "I wonder what tuition is, anyways. I hadn't discussed it yet. It'll be covered, though. Don't worry about it. So…you fly, though?"
"Wow. A whole room." For several seconds after setting his stuff down, Guthrie seems too hung up on that fact to join the rest of the conversation.
Then, finally, he tears his gaze away from the bedroom and makes eye contact with the others. "Y'all're lucky. Lightning, wings — your powers make sense," he declares, wrinkling up his nose. "Ah sorta … blow up, Ah guess. Only instead of little pieces of me goin' all over the place, rest in peace Sam Guthrie, Ah turn invulnerable and shoot upward like a missile takin' off. About as fast, too — can't slow down much, and Ah barely got more steering than a cannonball."
He looks slightly sheepish as he describes this destructive, somewhat mindless ability, but seems far more nervous when Nancy brings up his education. "Do you think Professor… Ex-avier" — he haltingly attempts to imitate the others' pronunciation — "will need to see my report cards and such? Ah didn't bring none of that with me." Suddenly struck by an even more distressing thought, he continues, "Do you think he sent a letter to my old school already? Ah got some high school, but after Pa died, I had to help support the family. And Ah wasn't exactly a great student to begin with."
He swipes his hands down his cheeks, smearing dirt, mutters, "Oh, God," and wanders into Warren's ensuite bathroom in a daze.
"Well, that is correct," says Nancy to Warren at first, glancing between him and Sam. A beat, and she purses her lips. "I naturally… absorb electricity that is around me, I suppose. And the more I take in, the faster… everything about me gets. My brain, my motions - everything. Unless I discharge the built up energy by… shooting lightning from my fingertips, perhaps. When I could not control it, it was terrible - I would absorb until I was moving so fast people would be frightened, and no one could understand me - only to be a danger when I discharged involuntarily," she says, pursing her lips.
"I… haven't paid a penny since starting here. I look forward to the point in my life where I can give back, what I am taking," she says.
A glance towards Warren again. "Are you certain you do not shoot lasers from your wings as well?" she asks, her tone entirely casual. Even if her eyes turn back towards Sam. "I feel that the Professor will understand," says Nancy. "And… I don't think he's here to torment you with school, just… help you be the best sort of person you can be - and education is helpful with that," she says.
"At least, it is perhaps better than letting us just run around town all day," she says.
Sam certainly doesn't take anything for granted, that's for sure. Warren is well aware of his privelege, though. With a nod of his head to Guthrie, he smiles lightly. "The Professor seems like a good man. I haven't been able to speak to him at length, sadly."
As he describes his powers though, Warren furrows his brows a touch and studies the younger guy. "Trig," he laments, almost. "Not my best subject. I think I might be able to help you out if you're willing. I might be able to help you steer." It's a guy with bird wings. It stands to reason he might be able to help. "That's pretty amazing, though. So you're basically invincible while you're…cannonballing?"
The rest of those questions he leaves up to Nancy as, while he might be defacto on the welcome wagon, he still doesn't know the place as well as she does. There's a furrow of his brows at the drawbacks Nancy describes, though. "That's got to be rough," he says to her. "So the gauntlets help you, I take it?" The question about wing lasers has him looking rather amused at Nancy, though. "No wing lasers," he speaks in a slightly sadder tone. "I do have hollow bones, though." This is offered forth as if it were a power before he laughs it off.
"I also process food more efficiently. Increased muscle mass, my body doesn't store fat. The tragic part is having a great beach body all year 'round and never getting to show it off, mostly." There is a pointed thumb back towards the large, almost incandescent white wings.
Sam doesn't bother to shut the bathroom door. In his crowded upbringing, boundaries were diminished and privacy was a matter of trust, not enforcement. There's a sound of opened taps, a hissed "shoot, that's hot," and some splashing around from the bathroom. "Sorry, Nancy, Ah guess that's a lot more complicated than just lightnin'," Sam admits, calling out loudly enough to be heard from the other room. "Sounds pretty scary, too. Ah guess that's why you gotta wear those funny gloves, right? They look pretty cool, at least."
More sloshing and splashing as he continues, "Trig, huh? Y'all seem real clever around here. But if you can make gloves that soak up electricity, maybe steerin' for a cannonball ain't far behind." A short, cracky laugh, then: "Ah'd certainly appreciate the help."
Guthrie returns with a towel wrapped around his waist, freckled face finally clear of dirt. He's wiry, muscular but underfed, with distinct farmer's tanlines at shoulder and upper arm. "Far as Ah can tell, nothin' can touch me when Ah'm blastin'," he answers Warren's question. He starts to dig through his backpack for a change of clothes: the meager possessions he brought with him only include a couple of outfits. "First time Ah did it, blasted my way out of a caved-in coal mine straight through solid ground, didn't get so much as a scratch."
He starts buttoning a yellowed, too-big shirt over his towel and wanders back toward the bathroom, adding: "Ah don't know about education. But if there're jobs up here, maybe I can make some money to send back home to Ma. That sounds like the best sort of person I can be to me."
"They take away the extra electricity - so that I don't get to a state where I have too much, and start discharging accidentally and… zipping around," says Nancy, "As you say," she says, with a wryness to her voice. "I am grateful that it is something that can be controlled - there are many in mutant town that have fur or other such things, that cannot control how they look, or how their powers behave. I am… very grateful to the professor, and this institution here," she says.
"Hollow bones, and you don't have to exercise. Do you wish to trade powers? I speak badly about mine, but they are really very nice," she says, with another grin.
Sam enters the bathroom, and Nancy takes a couple steps closer to the door of the room as if to exit, but she lingers - out of sight of the bathroom door. When Sam leaves the bathroom like that, however, she turns entirely, putting her back to the room proper, her cheeks coloring. "Regardless, Sam, it was nice to meet you. We can go through the rest of the tour another time - or anyone here would be happy to show you. I need to go," she says. "…check on something." And with that, she zips off - not boosted by electricity, however.