1963-07-04 - Mistaken Words & Differences
Summary: Jean, Alex, Bobby and Sam gather to train in the Danger Room. Tempers get heated.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
jean bobby cannonball alex 


*

At one end of the Danger Room is a giant bullseye taking up all of the far wall. Bobby's at the other end all iced up and has been doing some of his own training not really suitable to the grounds of the Institute. It's fine for his usual fun and games but less so for what he's doing now. And that is thrusting his arm forward at the target, fingers spread, and having five sharp ice shards flying at the target. Even before they hit, his other fist is thrust forward and a solid battering ram of ice forms across the length of the room to slam into the center of the bullseye.

*

Jean was there, reluctantly, but she was there. She made a promise to Alex the night before that she'd learn to fight. So this was it. Her about to fight. She even had her game face on, her jaw tense as she tries to clear her mind of all the worries and what could have been and what would be. Gloves tugged down hard upon her fingers as she flexes them to make sure they fit. Hair tucked and tugged into a ponytail and wrapped into a bun to keep out of her face. She looks on towards Bobby and begins her approach, she was mistified but took it for what it was. Training. Fighting. Something she needed to get used to eventually.

*

Alex is dressed in the blue and yellow of his X-Men containment suit, complete with its circular panel on the front that serves as primary energy conduit. He wells it good, just ask anyone! But, for now he's waiting by the elevator for Sam, and he gestures to lead the way once they're down in the base proper. "So this is the base. Really its an old war bunker. Mostly, right now? It's the Danger Room — which might not be very useful for you — and… uh, that other room. That's just for the Professor." Leading the way to the Danger Room, he notices Jean and gives her a quick nod and a smile, "Jean! Hey, there you.." His voice trails off a bit when he sees Bobby is beyond in the Danger Room itself, "Oh, it appears Iceman is training. Good timing."

*

Even with his slightly stooped posture, when Sam arrives, he's easily the tallest of those present. With the perplexed cant to his mouth and the hesitant central peak to his blond eyebrows, though, he doesn't exactly cut an intimidating figure. He follows Alex in, his head on a pivot as he takes in the retrofitted bunker.

The Kentucky boy is decked out with considerable school spirit: blue jogging shorts with yellow piping and an embroidered X crest, heather sleeveless shirt with the Xavier Institute name printed across the chest, and of course his battered blue Chuck Taylors.

School spirit, yes. X-men uniform? Not by a long shot.

The southerner tries to shove his hands into his pockets, only to realize that these shorts don't have pockets, leaving him rubbing his half-bare thighs like an idiot. He hopes Bobby's ice storm is distracting enough that no one noticed. "Yeah, Ah don't think it's a good idea for me to go blastin' around underground," he agrees with Alex. He smiles nervously at Jean, ducks his head in greeting, and says, "Hi there. Ah'm Sam Guthrie."

*

"Hey Jean." Bobby says, looking over his shoulder. "Looking to do some practicing? Want me to make targets for you? Stationary or moving?" He spots the other back behind Jean and smiles. "Hey Alex. Sam. Guess it's going to be a group session?"

*

"Hi Bobby. I want them all." Jean.. well. If she was going to practice, she was going to go hard, then go home and cry about it all. But it was only ice, no one would be getting hurt. Not today. Alex and Sam's approach has her turning, her gaze flitting upright as her brows crinkle and lift in a raise. And soon a smile was put on, Jean firstly leaving training by the wayside to take those few steps towards the larger man, her hand reaching out to lightly touch the side of his arm as she offers up a gentle smile. One that lets him know that everything is okay.

"Sam Guthrie." She repeats, dipping her head a touch to gain his attention. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Jean Grey." The smile cracks wide for just a touch as she gives him a pat, drawing her hand away to rest it atop of her hip. "Nice shorts."

The mention of a group session gives her pause, then a shrug of her shoulders as she turns to gain a little bit of distance from the two men. "Fine by me. More chaos the better." Someone needed to learn some self control, and what better way than this?

*

"I was just giving Sam a tour; I'm not sure a group session works for him down here, he'll break the ceiling in a quarter of a second." Alex turns a grin to Sam at that. He does smile more broadly at Bobby, "Hey, Bobby. I spent all morning practicing and I think I've figured something out: if I'm going to try your hand idea I need the suit modified to support that, at least at first. It's just like it was originally: I have to train my body to react a certain way, and the suit helps me figure out what that way should be." He heads over to lean against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, regarding Bobby's icecapades with an easy smile, "Effortlessly impressive, as usual." But he glances sidelong over to Jean, "Do you have a plan? Or should someone help work up a training regimen for you?"

*

Surprising no one who has been around him for more than a half hour, Sam's face and upper arms turn a deep shade of rose pink when Jean both touches his arm and then, horror of horrors, compliments his shorts. He gapes for a second, jaw working mutely, then stammers, "Ah — yeah. Well, Ah need a pair of gym shorts for, um. Gym? And, well, these're free, so Ah figured…"

He turns to Alex with a look of sudden, desperate worry. "Ah mean, everybody wears 'em, right? That wasn't weird of me or nothin'?"

Finally, he turns and answers Bobby in a rush, "Yeah, there ain't really room in here for me to do much other'n cheerlead." He glances at Jean with a shy smile and a shrug, offering, "Although Ah suppose Ah could play target dummy, if y'need to try somethin' that ain't too lethal, Miss Grey."

*

Bobby was just thinking the same thing about Sam's shorts. Go figure. "All of them it'll be then, Jean." he agrees and cocks his head slightly to one side as he thinks about what Alex just said. "So put one of those little things on your palm or something so the energy gets channeled there? That makes sense." And then he considers Sam. More than just his shorts, that is. "How fast do you go at take off, Sam? Is it always maximum thrust when on?"

*

"Really? I.. I thought it was pretty tough down here." Jean replies to Alex. Now she wasn't so sure about training down here, and it was telling by the way she takes a step back to look up towards the ceiling and to the expanse of the bunker.

Though, as Alex and Bobby begins to talk about gods know what, Jean takes to Sam quite easily, her gaze breaking down into something that was a little bit amused. "There's nothing wrong with your shorts. I just like them." Maybe she was feeding off of Bobby's thoughts? It was hard to tell. "I have a pair of shorts. Though, they're not as long as yours. Mine come down to here?" She points towards the cut off, lifting her leg just a little to show. It was a simple conversation, really. Nothing more.

"I think I'd like for all of the women here to have a bit of a longer short. But that's neither here nor there. I'm not a seamstress, sadly." Whatever she was going on about, she gives Sam a quick shake of her head. Her voice lowers now, a little frown drawn up upon her face. "I.. I don't want to hit anyone.." Well, it's true! But, since Bobby was going to give her all of the targets, she was just going to go with that. But it would be nice to hear exactly 'why' Sam would tear the whole house down.

*

Alex turns a sympathetic look at Sam, having managed to miss the shorts, until now he does notice them, and at that he has a very hard time not laughing. "They ARE nice shorts. And… in the school colors. It's almost as good as a uniform, Sammie, almost. Don't worry about it, you can totally work the look." He's not going to laugh, no he's not. He nods along with Bobby, smiling broadly, "Something like that. The specific design will be up to the techs. Just something so I can … like … Its like an aquaduct. A river bed. A pipe. Something I can force the plasma into and direct its flow, and feel those nerves in my arm come alive in that way to make it happen. But right now, there's no channel to pour it into, so I don't know what its supposed to feel like when I try to channel it down my arm, so the plasma just splashes around everywhere." He then turns a grin for Jean, "Oh, its plenty tough down here. Sam's sorta like a missile, as far as we can tell. He shoots straight up. There's not a lot of up to work with." He grins and gestures up at the ceiling. "I don't think he'd actually break the foundation— a nuke couldn't— but it also just…wouldn't be useful for him, as much as, say, the back yard. The Danger Room isn't perfect for everyone."

*

Somewhat mollified by everyone's reassurance about his clothes, Sam looks down when Jean points, then realizes where his eyes are and looks away in a hurry, reddening all over again. "Well, Ah think y'all should be able to wear whatever you think is purtiest," he blurts out with what he probably thinks is considerable gallantry. Forcing himself to meet her eyes, he nods at Alex's explanation and tells the redhead, "Ah know what you mean, though — my powers shouldn't really be used on people, neither." He raises a thumb to the ceiling and gives her a sheepish look. "First time Ah used 'em, Ah blasted out of a mine, clear through about a hundred feet of rock. So… even assumin' Ah bounced off the wall, there'd be plenty of rubble to make this a real dangerous place for anyone else."

Finally, Sam answers Bobby's question: "Ah can control my speed a little," he tells the other boy, taking to the change of topic with a lot more relief than he would probably feel if he knew the Iceman, too, had taken more than a passing interest in his outfit. "Ah can cut back to about highway speeds for a while if Ah put my mind to it." He shrugs, elaborating, "Only problem is, it's like settin' an engine's idle too low. Keep it there for more'n a little while and the whole thing quits."

*

Bobby looks at Sam then looks at Jean before shaking his head. No, too soon to be using Sam as target practice for her. "Sounds like something you need to practice, Sam. And I know just how to do it. Jean, how are you at moving things with your mind?" Alex… he can't think of anything for Alex to do down here while the other two are practicing. So just stand there looking hot.

*

"That's.. actually kind of a cool power." Jean confesses. She really didn't know what the heck Bobby and Alex were talking about, so she really doesn't try to interject. Sam's words as her eyes widening just a little, her gaze immediately snapping to Bobby to try to speak to him directly.

«HE'S ADORABLE!»

Her telepathic communication with the young man was -really- loud. Really.. unnecessarily loud. But back to Sam, her nods ever so faintly, her lips pursing thoughtfully. "That's a bit bad. Though I'm sure we'd all still be safe in case something bad were to happen right now. Rubble and all included." She shrugs her shoulders, her head tipping a little to the side, nodding towads Alex and Sam before addressing Bobby.

"I've been doing some practicing on my own. I have it down, but it's not perfection." She smiles just a little. "I have read, that most things are simply mind over a matter, I've been wanting to give that a shot."

*

Alex seems content to lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching them with an at-ease relaxed expression. He seems content to let Bobby take charge of this group session even if he maybe has seniority— in fact he seems strangely pleased by it. So he'll watch. He does add, "It IS a reinforced bunker, its got a lot of structural elements mines don't have the benefit of."

*

"Ah'm not sure about practicin' at low speeds," Sam tells Bobby, doubt evident on his brow. "It takes a second for my engine to get goin' again after it quits. It happened on the way up from Kentucky — Ah was tryin' to get a look at one of them new Mercury Marauders — and Ah darn near faceplanted into traffic."

Blissfully ignorant of any psychic conversations taking place, Sam shrugs over at Alex, the hitch in his shoulders betraying a bit more than his usual anxiety. "Maybe Ah'll try it sometime, but Ah'd rather not with people around who could get hurt."

Quickly on to a new conversational track, he lifts his eyebrows and looks at Jean. "Movin' things with your mind?" He grins. "Daaaaaaang. Like a spoon bender? Ah saw one of them at the fair one year. Wonder if he was a mutant?"

*

Bobby winces at the mental shout and automatically lifts a hand to his ear before he drops it, knowing it won't make a difference. And then he blinks at Jean, realizing what she just said. «Yes, he is.» he agrees after a moment, something that would definitely not have happened a few weeks ago. And since Jean says she's been practicing, he lifts a hand and forms a sphere of ice which he tosses onto the ground. It's followed by an ice dagger and then an ice spear. Last is a large ice anvil, looking exactly like the ones Wile E. Coyote gets from Acme. "Why don't you try to hit the bullseye, Jean? Start with the ball then work your way to the others. Point first for the dagger and spear. When you get each down, move to the next. Then do two at a time. Then three. And actually, Sam." he says, turning to him. "I didn't have in mind for you to fly at all." Pointing at the ground, a block of ice forms then extends all the way down the length of the room till it comes up against the wall. Bobby turns to look at Sam then adds two projections at the sides, leaving the center open. This is followed by a thin sheet of ice on the floor. "You lie down, put your head in the center there so your shoulders are up again the blocks. Then light up. You won't be going anywhere." Thinking about what he just said, he adds twice as much ice to the block. He's seen him taking off.

*

"I think we'd be okay down here, Mr. Guthrie." Jean confirms. But.. if he decides to train right now? Jean would be over there. -Way- over there. Probably somewhere in the library. That far away. Safe.

She does grin and nod, the mention of the spoon-bender drawing her brows upright. "Possibly! I've learned from the Professor and everyone else here that some people often share the same gifts. I'd like to meet that person one day. Just to watch him in action." Wistful, wistful thinking.

But as Bobby begins to summon ice constructs, Jean presses her hands together, her thumb lightly massaging the middle of her palm as she begins to take a step aside. "Hit the bullseye.." She murmurs to herself, attempting to put her game face on as she takes in those few breaths. Just then, the ice constructs begin to move, slowly lifting into the air with a slight tremble as they begin to follow behind her (the anvil is left behind for now), lifting higher and higher within the air with each step as she keeps her thumb pressed within her palm..

The dagger was the first to move into action, Jean's hands separating to hold out into the air, her fingers at a slight crook as the dager itself begins to turn like a winding clock. With her arm thrown back and soon pushed forward.. the dagger flies, hurling at a break neck speed..

..only to splat against the wall and shatter. Totally missing the target. Eh! Close enough!

*

Alex applauds gently, and not even looking sarcastic about it. He's grinning, "Hey, good first shot, Jean. First time I tried to hit a target there was swirling lines of fire over the entire danger room. In front of me. Behind me. Over me. Along the ground. Everywhere. You know its not exactly easy to set concrete on fire." But, eh does gesture to the ice construct Bobby made for Sam, "That seems like a good practice safety mechanism there, Sam. Bobby did good." He turns and kinda slyly winks at Bobby. Like friends do, right? Right.

*

"Shoot, girl! That was WAY better than the spoon bender!" Sam says in a near-whoop. He watched Jean's demonstration with his mouth agape and his hands on his thighs, but he straightens and grins at her after his enthusiastic exclamation. "If y'all two met, he'd just be all kinds of jealous," he adds with a shake of his head.

Bobby and Alex's assurances are met with quite a bit more skepticism. Sam gives them each a long look, then raises one blond eyebrow over at the ice block braces, then looks at Bobby again. "Y'all sure?" he says, his tone tense. "Ah made a datgum rainstorm when Ah cannonballed into the lake, remember? Ah hit stuff hard."

He's willing to give Xavier's mutant training experts the benefit of the doubt — he hasn't made a lot of headway on his own, that's for sure — but he doesn't seem in a hurry to try this trick. Especially since Jean is still working on her training, and his powers have a way of interrupting things.

*

Bobby nods approvingly as Jean levitates the three smaller objects. "Good Jean." And then he looks down the room as the dagger goes flying. "Very good. Accuracy will come with practice." He makes another dagger and tosses it onto the ground near Jean grinning over at Alex. "Except, Sam, you were already moving really fast. You won't be hitting anything this time. You're already pressed up against it. Just be ready to shut down if you feel it starting to crack." He made the block not as long as the room so Sam will actually be ahead of them all just in case things do go flying.

*

"And you're trying to be slow." reminds Alex quickly, "Practicing the minimum speed."

*

"First times are always horrible.." Jean mutters to herself, her hand lashing out to snatch the spear from the air then gives it a good chuck towards the target.

Which only flies two feet away from her and crashes to the ground. Girly throws. She looks to have a mini-tantrum, but she stops herself part way, her cheeks burning a slight bit of red mostly because they were actually proud of her.

"I.. well, I'll give you three the room. I'm just.. I'll have dinner ready by the time you guys are done?" She smiles, which soon fades as she walks past the anvil, which soon cracks and shatters just as soon as she clears the path. At least with her out of the way, Sam could safely train! Alex and Bobby were experts in this.

*

"See you later," Sam says, waving to Jean and looking sympathetic that her powers don't seem to want to cooperate. But he's got his own gauntlet to run, now.

"Minimum speed. Okay. Y'all just… don't stand directly behind me," Sam says gravely. He picks his way gingerly over the ice floor and then lies down on it. He tries to touch the ice as little as possible with his bare shoulders and legs, but he's visibly shivering by the time he slides his head into position between the walls of ice.

"Here goes nothin'."

There's a sudden roar — deafening in the confined space — and a burning flare of light bursts from the teenager. A shockwave explodes outward from Sam with enough power to bounce him straight off the floor and punch a spiderweb of radial cracks into the ice. The initial explosion instantaneously consolidates into a solid column of fire and force rocketing out behind him. The energy field tears through the ice as easily as it would through rock, gouging watermelon-sized chunks of ice out of the restraining wall and sending them caroming across the Danger Room. In a mere couple seconds of blasting, the head of this drillbit of mutant force is quickly buried in the ice.

Sam cuts off his powers as soon as he realizes he's moving inexorably forward, but past a fog of gently falling ice crystals, it's obvious that he has bored a tunnel several yards into the wall of ice. "Y'all okay?" a meek voice asks through the impromptu snowstorm. "Ah think… Ah think Ah might be stuck."

*

Alex watches this all with a great deal of fascination; and he doesn't for a second worry about where it is he's standing. He'll just recline there on the wall like its the safest place in the world. Any of that burning power that gets near him ends up just getting sucked into his skin, making his face flush just faintly as whatever process it is that makes him immune to heat and energy works its magic inside his cells. Nom nom. He DOES take care to dodge out of a way of a chunk of ice that gets flung at him. But he looks decidedly more interested as Sam goes crashing through the ice: he laughs. Loud and full, "We're fine." he says confidently, "But… stuck?" He can't help but keep laughing a little bit, "That was pretty awesome there, Sam. Bobby'll get you out, don't worry."

*

Bobby nods to Jean as she leaves, glancing at the anvil at the little telekinetic temper tantrum. Control will come in time. Then he turns back to watch the show. He really expected the ice to hold. He did. It should have, at least longer than it did since Sam had no momentum built up. Obviously, there's more than just normal physics at work here. What a surprise. As chunks of ice go flying, any coming near him sublimate in seconds. "Ok, that was pretty damn cool." he says, trying not to laugh at Sam being stuck. Walking over to the ice block, he takes a moment to look it over then shakes his head. What the Iceman creates, the Iceman can make go away and it turns into water vapor leaving Sam lying there. "Well, it seemed like a good idea."

*

"Ah'm sure that this is hilarious from out there, Alex," Sam says, his dry tone evident even through his chattering teeth, "but it's cold as the devil from where Ah'm sittin' and Ah'd—" The walls of ice evaporate, and the lanky boy drops to the floor in a graceless tangle of limbs. "Ow." He rolls over and sits up, planting his palms on the floor behind him and splaying his bare legs out in front. He flushes a bit less impressively than he did at Jean's compliments, but gives the other boys a look of deep remorse.

"Ah am so sorry!" he blurts out. "Ah felt myself diggin' through it and Ah could've bounced away, but Ah might have hit one of y'all, so Ah just kept myself aimed into the ice and before Ah knew it, Ah was all the way in." He covers his face with one hand. "Boy, am Ah ever glad Jean didn't see that."

*

With Sam complaining about it being cold, Alex can't help it: he laughs all the more when it turns Sam is a flopping onto the ground. "It IS pretty funny." he confirms, though his grin is broad, "And don't apologize. We learned something. There's obviously more at work with your destructive potential then sheer momentum. It seems like there's some kind of active psychokinetic energy release going on, or at least, that's my initial theory. You're not just generating thrust beneath you, but you're directing energy ahead of you too, I think. But it was pretty damn cool." His smile is more warm and less a grin, "This is how we figure out our powers, Sam. We just… try them out together. Everyone has a different set of rules and until we throw them in together and figure out what's going on, we have no idea what will happen. Bobby made a guess, and it turns out it didn't hold up. I would have bet it would, too. Now we know something."

*

"You did it exactly right, Sam." Bobby assures him. He's not even close to a science guy so just lets Alex talk and listens to the explanation. It sounds good to him. "Exactly, Sam. It didn't work but it paid off anyway since we just learned something about your powers." He looks from Sam to Alex thoughtfully. "I wonder if you could absorb his thrust fast enough to keep him from going anywhere."

*

Peeking out at the others from behind his hand, Sam meekly asks, "So…this was like a science experiment?" He lowers his palm back to the ground after a second or so. "Ah guess that ain't so bad. We're doin' research, like NASA or somethin'." He tries on a lopsided little grin, decides it fits. "Our own little Jet Propulsion Lab."

He finally levers himself up off the floor, dusting a few flakes of ice off his shorts and tank once he's upright. "Ain't got the slightest idea what half of that means, Alex, but it sure sounds smart," he tells the elder boy with an encouraging nod. "Ah bet you're right, and y'all're gonna work this whole thing out in no time."

He glances at Bobby with a thoughtful expression, half of his lower lip between his teeth, and nods slightly. "We could try it, but Ah'd want to be holdin' on to him when Ah launched. Ah was holdin' on to Mr. Haynie in the mine when we blasted out, and the explosion protected him like it does me, instead of hurtin' him."

*

"Yeah, Sam." Alex nods his head in firm agreement, "Every new mutant brother or sister we get we have to figure out the rules for how they work, so we perform experiments. Its science." Even though its more a lot of crazy trial and error, but hey. That counts as the scientific method? But at Sam's wanting to hold him, Alex looks a little bit alarmed, "Well, first, what you need to understand about my ability is?" He turns, and steps to the side, and there's a swirl of blue plasmaa that coalesces around him into right in front… then blasts out to crash into the far wall, setting the concrete on fire. "That's not it. That's the side effect. That's what I do with the energy after I've soaked it up— my real power is I absorb energy. Constantly. I'm completly immune to heat: you could drop me on a sun and I'd drink it dry." Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, right? Right! That'll never happen. "Heat, radiation, fire, plasma… you know most of that stuff you shoot out of your toes my body just laps up like its a thirsty dog just given a bowl of clear, clean water. That's not the limit though, I can also choose to absorb any kind of energy." He pauses, "Except kinetic which is not energy in the way I'm talking about here. Kinetic. Motion energy. Momentum. I'm not really worried about your blasting— you might singe my clothes but who cares?— but hitting my head and knocking my skull open in a… what we'll charitably refer to it as landing is a lot more worrisome."

*

"Well, no. It started off as a way for you to practice. It ended up a science experiment." Bobby grins. "Mutant powers can be complicated." As Alex goes on to explain. And since he's the science guy and explaining his own power, Bobby just stays silent and listens. Except to add "So don't wear clothes." Pause. "That you like." he's quick to add.

*

Sam watches Alex's monologue with growing perplexity. When the older boy finishes, Guthrie reaches up and scratches at a spot a couple of inches behind one ear. (Yes, literal head scratching.)

Bobby also gets a funny look, until he finishes his sentence. What a weird place for a pause.

Still scratching, but now lifting his opposite hand in a helpless shrug, Sam says, "Um… Ah ain't sure but Ah think you ain't gotta worry about… whatever you're worryin' about."

Both hands come down in front of Sam, his index fingers poking at and looping around each other in a clumsy illustration of the interaction of their powers. "If my powers don't work 'cause your powers are suckin' 'em up, we won't go nowhere and you won't hit your head," the farm boy explains. "And if my powers do work 'cause you can't suck 'em up fast enough, my blastin'll protect you from whatever we hit, and you still won't hit your head." His eyebrows peak in the middle again, uncertain, and Sam hedges, "That is, if Ah understood all that okay."

*

"So your power extends to whatever you're holding?" BObby asks. "And it protects you from damage." Which certainly makes sense given Sam's landings. Guy would have broken his neck long before this. "Interesting. I think I'd like to go for a ride sometime if you don't mind a passenger."

*

The look Alex gives Bobby is decidedly odd, and its a grin. Its an awful big grin. At mention of clothes, then going for a ride? Alex ain't gonna say a word but he's thinking thoughts he is. "Well, that's sound reasoning." he admits to Sam with a nod, "I'm just skeptical if I can drain your power as fast as you can put it out, so was worried about my head. I like my head. It has served me real well for all this time."

*

Sam nods at Alex with a grin. "Yeah, Ah got it right, then! Nothin' to worry about: my powers're kind of an all-or-nothin' deal," he reiterates. "Either I'm blastin' and protected, or sittin' still and not protected. Ah can't just have one or the other, so you should be safe either way."

The farm boy turns to Bobby and nods amiably. "Yeah, you got it exactly right," he confirms, "and sure, Ah'd be happy to take you wherever you want to go." He gives a little shrug and lights up with a smile. "Ah flew here all the way from Kentucky in about a day, so we can go pretty far if we got a map."

*

"We don't have to go far." Bobby tells Sam. "I just want to see what it's like. I'd also like to see the experiment with Alex. That should be interesting. Have you ever really tested the limits of what you can absorb?" he asks Alex.

*

"Hey, if Bobby gets a ride, I want one too. I seem to be making a habit of this: find a guy who can fly, ask him to give me a ride." Alex chuckles softly, but then he shakes his head as he looks over at Bobby, "No, not really. I mean I've tried, but there's just not a lot of power sources around I can try to absorb."

*

Sam nods. "Oh, sure thing, then. But it's a heck of a lot cheaper than an airplane, if you ever do decide you wanna take a trip," he says with a grin. "Just remember to bring goggles. The wind won't bug you once we're flyin', but if Ah stop blastin' to make a turn or somethin', the wind can get in your eyes somethin' fierce. Then you start blubberin' and…" Sam's grin has evaporated, an inward-focused and unhappy expression growing in its place. "Look, it's just real embarrassin', is what it is."

*

"Well, now it seems there is." Bobby notes and looks at Sam consideringly. "Have you ever run out of fuel? Used your power enough that it exhausts you or just starts to cut out? Cause we definitely need to know if that's possible and, if so, under what circumstances."

*

Alex nods to Bobby thoughtfully, turning a long, considering look over at Sam. But he smiles after a bit, "Goggles, right. I'll make sure to bring goggles.' That said he nods to Bobby again, "That's a good question. I know I can run out— and it takes about sixteen hours to soak up enough cosmic radiation to get back to full power if I do. Granted, it takes quite a bit to run out. What's the longest you've flown for? Knowing your limits is almost as important as learning control."

*

"Naw, only time I lost power was when Ah kept goin' as slow as Ah could to check out that car," Sam answers Bobby. "Scared the bejeezus outta me, Ah don't mind sayin'. But even that wasn't like runnin' out of fuel, it was like an engine stallin', like Ah said. Just had to give 'er a second and then goose the ignition again."

The southerner holds up one hand and gives it a waggle, looking to Alex. "Truth be told, ain't really pushed the blastin' as far as Ah could. Only big trip was up here from Kentucky. Took about the whole day, but Ah made some stops for lunch and directions." He shrugs, tries to put his hands in nonexistant pockets again, and settles for crossing his arms. "It was pretty easy to go just as fast as Ah wanted. At a certain point the land was blurrin' by so fast, Ah couldn't pick out landmarks. Ah was worried Ah'd miss the place, or overshoot end up out over the ocean" — he shudders — "so I just sorta cruised at the speed that seemed natural."

*

"I wonder what your top speed is." Bobby muses. Seems he wonders about lots of things. "If, and it's unlikely, you never ran out of energy, and you just kept blasting, would you keep going faster or hit a limit? Do you need to breath when your power is activated? If you go too high, does the thinner air affect your power?" Inquiring minds want to know.

*

Alex can't help but laugh, "Bobby hu—" Pause, "huuuhmmmm." He coughs, "Bobby, and you say you're not a scientist. You're picking apart every variable there is and approaching them all with the scientific method. I swear you're going to surprise yourself when you get into college." Ahem. He shakes his head, "I wonder if I could rig up a device measure your actual speed." he muses, "Perhaps we can get one of the tech guys to do it."

*

Sam turns to peer at Alex, cocks his head to one side, then gives him a few bracing slaps to the back to help with the cough and the stammer. "You alright there, Mr. Summers?" he asks. Once the older mutant seems to have his voice back under enough control to pose a question, the farm boy shrugs and answers, "Ah figure if Ah need to measure my speed, Ah'll just time how long it takes me to get from point A to point B, then do some division. Easier'n inventin' somethin'."

Turning to Bobby, he continues, "Ah've wondered about breathin' myself." Sam's hands go to his hips. "That's one reason Ah'm nervous about the ocean. If Ah go in, Ah won't be able to see to steer. And it ain't like the lake, where Ah know Ah'll hit the bottom in a sec so Ah can turn back around." He shivers again, then shakes his head. "Y'know there's enough pressure down in the ocean to crush a submarine like a tin can if it goes too deep? Ah don't wanna have to guess whether my blast field'll protect me from that. Not to mention drownin'."

*

Bobby glances over at Alex, looking surprised. "I'm not. I'm just good at trying to figure out powers and helping people learn to use them. It's fun." And Bobby is the Master of Fun. "Well, we can test you breathing by going up instead of down. If your power cuts off, we could have Warren standing by to catch you. Or just give you a parachute. Or both." They'll think of something.

*

"Holy crap did you just Mister Summers me?" Alex coughs a little bit more, but then he clears his throat and he shoots a dire stare over at Sam. "I swear to all that is holy if you ever do that again I'll use you as target practice. You're too old to be one of my students." Barely. "So we're peers. Ugh." He grins, though. He's not really mad. Mostly probably. Then he grins at Bobby broadly, "Science is fun. You're totally doing science you're just pretending you're not." So there. "If you go up I'd be careful with how high. Go high enough that the air gets thin but don't go so far you leave the troposphere. That's… about sixeen miles up. I think you'd either find you have trouble breathing or are far way before you get that high though. But still."

*

"Yeah, that sounds kinda scary," Sam says uncertainly, nodding at Alex and then giving Bobby a vulnerable look. "If Ah go up so high there's no air and pass out, Ah'll be fallin' pretty fast by the time Mr. Worthington can get to me. And if Ah don't run outta air to breathe, what if Ah end up in space and it turns out Ah need air to steer, or somethin'?" He slowly shakes his head, blue eyes wide with fear borne of a few too many space-based creature features. "Don't reckon Ah really want all these questions answered," he concludes.

After a pause, he looks down and says, "Um, Ah think Ah will be one of the students, come fall, actually." Hastening past that, he adds, "And it ain't really how Ah was raised to just call an adult by their first name."

*

Bobby isn't pretending anything! "Science is… measurements and beakers and theories." And boring. "And Sam, if you start feeling short of breath, you turn around. And if you don't, you turn around later once you realize you should be short of breath. Or you could go into the ocean and just fly parallel to the surface. Swim? It stops being flying once you're not in air right? Anyway, just use your power underwater till you should be short of breath. Say, a few minutes max. And if you aren't, then you don't need to breath." Pause. "As much, anyway."

*

"'Adult'? I'm… twenty four years old." Alex says with some exasperation, giving a long look at Bobby for a moment, then back to Sam, "You're every bit as much an adult as I am! You can buy alcohol, sign up for the military, vote. It's not like I'm old or anything, like the Professor or Magneto. Jeez." He sounds disgruntled by this Adulting he's been declared a part of. But he does glance sidelong at Bobby, "And what are you doing, Bobby? Talking about how fast he can go, how long he can breath— measurements. And I'm not a chemist, I don't touch beakers ever. There's lots of science with no beakers."

*

"Ah can't buy booze," Sam protests, in confusion brought on by his recent arrival from Kentucky. "Ah mean, Ah'm tall enough to get away with it if Ah play it cool, but it ain't legal. And, shootin' straight with ya, it's gonna be weird enough bein' the oldest student here come August without havin' to adjust to callin' ya somethin' different."

Sam shakes his head, obviously put out, although it's not clear by what. He turns instead to Bobby. "You must be mistakin' me for someone with a whole lotta control over his flyin'," Sam says to Iceman wryly. "It ain't as simple as 'fly parallel' or 'turn around' or 'when ya get this far.' It's crazy fast and the steerin' sucks and by the time Ah figure out where Ah am, Ah'm usually already past it."

*

"The drinking age is 18 here, Sam. So if you want to go get drunk, just let us knows and we'll take you out." Bobby tells him. "Or hell, come to my room. I keep a bottle of whiskey there and some pot too." Which is /not/ legal. He does nod at what Sam says. "Okay, point. In the air is a better choice till you get better at flying."

*

Alex blinks at Sam a moment, but then, he shakes his head, grimacing, "Really, I'm Alex. If I could get you all — students and everything — to call me Havok I'd be happier about it, but I don't. I don't expect students to call me Mr. Summers either. That's my father, whoever that is. Its a name that doesn't mean anything to me. In my classes, kids call me Alex. But." He gestures to Bobby, "Yeah you should come out drinking with us sometime. Its legal. This is New York City. This isn't…" He doesn't say something bad, "We're … not as hard asses here."

*

"Seriously? Y'all can?" Sam is grinning, about to get really excited about the drinking age, when Bobby offers him pot and he suddenly looks very worried. (Paranoid, even.) "Y'all have grass in the school?" he hisses, whispering even though Bobby just openly declared as much — right in front of a teacher, no less. "What if the cops" He cuts himself off. Obviously if the cops came to Mutant High, they would have much bigger problems than one kid with a stash. He puts his hands up, palms out. "I can't believe y'all. I mean, I heard New York was different, but…" Drugs? Calling teachers by their first names?! Sam's rural little mind has been blown.

*

Bobby laughs at Sam's reaction. "Man, you've got to calm down. It's all cool. I mean, I wouldn't smoke in front of the Prof because it would put him in an awkward position. But I wouldn't be surprised if he knew. Telepath." Damn telepaths learn everything you don't want them to know. "So yeah, we'll go drinking and show you around Manhattan. The popular places."

*

"The Professor knows everything. Just assume that." Alex nods his head, "Just accept it as a fact. Jean does too, really. Once you accept that they know every secret you have and are not freaking out already, you stop worrying. That said, out of pure politeness, don't do something like smoke pot in front of him. It doesn't mean he doesn't know, but it allows him the courtesy of pretending not to know. For a telepath, the luxury of pretending not to know is the kindest thing in the world you can do for them, I think." He does smile broadly though, "I know all the best places in town. What kind of music do you like, Sam? Ever heard any Jazz?" He's almost certainly not going to invite Sam to that drag club. Except it would be REALLLY FUNNY. He can't help but lift a hand up to cover his mouth and hide the snicker.

*

Scratching at the back of his head and trying to smile, Sam can't escape the feeling that his schoolmates are laughing at him more than with him. "Ah ain't really got a lot of secrets," he says, with a very teenage combination of conviction and inaccuracy, "but Ah dunno about this," the farm boy declares, his characteristic anxiety going into overdrive as he states the obvious. "It all sounds kinda" — he waves his free hand helplessly — "beatnikky. Ah don't want to fall in with subversives, or somethin'."

*

Bobby gives Alex A Look. Do not traumatize the new guy. Or worse, Bobby. "Nothing wrong with beatniks." he asserts. "There's a lot of good music in Harlem. You just need to know which parts to stay out of." Which goes for Manhattan as a whole.

*

"Sam." Alex says seriously, "You're a mutant in a secret school for training mutants, down in a secret base whose purpose is a group of mutants preparing to go out into the wider world and protect our people from oppression and danger, and… you don't… want to fall in with… subversives?" He just sort of stares for a long moment. And if here's any Looks he totally doesn't see them at all.

*

With absolute sincerity, Sam looks back at Alex, eyebrows steepled, and answers, "No, Ah mean political subversives." He leans forward and adds, "Speakin' of which… did you know there's an honest-to-God Russkie enrolled here?" He shrugs, adrift in a sea of geopolitical intrigue. "As for music, I dunno. I like country, rockabilly. Y'all got anything like that?"

*

Well, when Alex puts it like that… Bobby nods his agreement. "Yeah, we are the subversives. And if you think it's not political, Sam, you need to think again. Sure, we might think of it as just protecting our own. But they'll consider it as trying to bring down the American way."

*

"Oh, do you mean communists?" Alex blinks a moment, "I know some of those. Fine people. Not trying to destroy our way of life or enslave us, surprisingly. They just think the world should work a little different. Are they right? I don't know. What's wrong with them thinking it though?" He gestures to Bobby and nods in agreement, "If you think things like Mutant Town, and the systemic oppression of mutants by government policy, allows us to remove ourselves from politics… Fuck, Sam. I'm sorry but the world just got a lot more complicated when you were flying up here. The Institute, its safe for people like you and me and Bobby because its secret. If the government found out about it, do you know what they'd do? I don't. I don't want to find out, either. Politics is about power. And mutants have the power, and the political institutions don't like that. So they're trying to crush us. So we resist. We protect our people. We hide. And we reach out, we try to find allies, to convince them of our cause, of the justice in us just being able to live our lives…. But that's political. We are the subversives, Sam. Welcome to the movement." He grins, "I don't listen to a lot of country, but I have some music I think you'll like."

*

Sam gapes at Alex, and not only because the teacher just dropped the F-bomb in his presence. He's holding his hands up and starting to back away from the others. "Ah don't… Ah ain't here to…" he stammers. Then, his eyes starting to glisten, he nearly pleads: "That ain't what this is about."

His shoulder blades hit the reinforced doorframe. With nowhere to go, he resorts to his words again. "Ah came here for school and 'cause Ah like the idea of helpin' people with my powers," he says in a rush. "Ah don't wanna scare anybody and Ah don't wanna be a communist and Ah love my country! Ah'm an Eagle Scout, for pete's sake!" He shakes his head forcefully. "Just 'cause Ah'm a mutant don't mean Ah'm tryin' to hurt nobody or fight the police or overthrow the government! Ah thought that was the whole point of comin' here!"

A sudden flash of anger lights up his blue eyes and, voice ragged, he nearly shouts at Alex, "You're supposed to be a teacher! This is a damn school!" Then he whirls, and starts batting blindly at the door controls. It was supposed to be a dramatic exit, but he can't figure out how to get the hatch open.

*

Bobby's brows rise at Sam's reaction and he looks over at Alex. "Sam." Then a little louder, "Sam. Calm down, man. He didn't say you needed to be a Communist. But man, you're a mutant. You /already/ scare people. Think about it. I bet the moment they saw you blast out of that mine they treated you differently. Right? You didn't hurt anyone or fight anyone. You're just alive and that's enough for them to look down on you. Mutants, blacks, ho… others. Anyone not like them is a threat. That's why we teach mutants to use their powers. So they can protect themselves and others. So you can help them."

*

Alex moves over to slip around and tries to put himself between the controls and Sam; if he can, at least, with his hands coming up in a peace, calm sort of gesture, "Relax, man. You think I don't love my country? Hey, guess what. I'm an eagle Scout too. Honest. I didn't say anything about fighting the police. Or overthrowing the government. Not once, man. Not once. I said: Hide. Help. Reach out to people and try to convince them that we should be left in peace. Convince. Think a moment, Sam. The harshest word I used was convince. That means I want to talk to people who are wrong, who are trying to hurt my people, and convince them this is wrong. Isn't it okay to try to change peoples minds?" Okay so maybe he went into Advance Political Theory 101 a bit too early for poor Sam. "The reason people fear mutants is ignorance, not malice. I want to show them we shouldn't be feared. The last thing in the world I want is anyone to be afraid of me or my people." But they will. "I love my country, Sam. Scouts Honor. I just want to change it a little. I want to change it so that black people aren't abused. I want to change it so mutants can live freely. Is it so bad to want to change your country a little? Its mostly awesome, but our country is making some mistakes. I just want it to be better."

*

Sam turns and backs away from Alex again. This puts him in a sort of pincer between Alex and Bobby, which is awkward, but at least he isn't trying to leave anymore. "Look, y'all, maybe Ah got the wrong impression. Ah thought the X-men thing was about, well, mutant firemen or somethin'. Go help people in trouble — and that's great. But this whole thing is startin' to sound real different."

He swallows, prominent Adam's apple bobbing. "Smokin' a little grass, hey, that's kind of weird, but whatever you're into is fine. Pallin' around with Communists, sayin' they ain't so bad, well, Ah don't think that's alright, but that's my opinion." He lifts his shoulders, hands still up. "Y'all know they got a buncha nukes pointed at us, though, right?" He shakes his head.

"Maybe what you do ain't none of my business, and maybe it's okay that we can both be here without agreein' on what bein' here is for, but Ah ain't a subversive and Ah ain't here to blow up 'political institutions' or whatever Ah'm supposed to think you mean by 'convince.'" He scuffs his shoes, turning in place so that he can face both of them. "Point bein', Ah don't want to scare nobody, but all the stuff you're talkin' about is scarin' me. So Ah don't see how it's gonna make people less scared of Freaky Mutie Sam Guthrie to go along with it." He still looks like he's on the verge of tears. "That's as plain as Ah know how to say it."

*

"That is what we do." Bobby agrees. "But what we do and what the humans will see it as are not the same thing, Sam." Bobby's really not sure how to deal with this guy so looks to Alex.

*

Alex blinks slowly, confused a moment, "Uhh. First. I said that. me. Alex Summers. Havok. It has nothing to do with the X-Men. I, personally, like to go out of my way to meet as many different kinds of people and get to know them. I, personally, like to understand people. That's not the X-Men. You do know we have a lot of nukes pointed at them, though, right?" He tilts his head to the side, "But convince means convince. You're acting on pure imagination now, Sam. Pure imagination. You're imagining and making this entire issue up: you hear convince and try to think I'm an evil overlord mastermind trying to conquer the government?" Alex can't help but to laugh, though there's little humor in it, "I'm neither that powerful nor that ambitious. You're the one who keeps throwing in these supercharged words like 'overthrow' and 'blow up'. I mean I'd like to figure out a way to go sit with our state Senator and tell him why Mutant Town is wrong, and find a way to convince them that I'm right and they are wrong. How rounding up and oppressing mutants there is wrong."

But he shakes his head firmly, "But you're seeming to ascribe a lot of my personal eccentricities to the X-Men, to the Institute, to the Professor, and that's not fair at all. I enjoy people of all types and learning about them. Even people I disagree with vehemently— I do disagree with communism— but if I just decide they're evil, then… what do you do? Better to understand them and recognize they're mostly just folk who grew up not so different, and realizing you're mostly similar, then to try to convince them to change. Convince. Again. Please don't keep reading 'convince' as some sort of sinister word again, Sam."

*

"Yeah, yeah, stupid Sam Guthrie don't know how words work," the southerner says, looking a little bit hurt. "Ah get that. Fine. Maybe Ah'm upset and Ah ain't quite bright enough to understand and Ah'm overreactin'." He holds up one finger. "But it ain't all on me. Y'all said plenty to get me to that point. Sounds like there's a lot in your personal thinkin' that don't really agree with my personal thinkin', and that's as it may be. Your ways and my ways don't have to be the same. Takes all kinds." He holds up his hands a little shakily. "But Ah guess Ah'm just feelin' a little… pressed in on — like one of them submarines deep in the ocean? — and it ain't a good feelin'." He shrugs, bare arms tight and tense against his sides. "Ah just askin' you to let up a little."

*

Sounds like a good idea. "Think I'm going to head back to my room." Bobby says, moving over to open the door. "If you want a toke or two, come by later." he tells Alex. "Catch you later Sam."

*

Alex gestures, stepping away from the elevator as Bobby moves to open it, "I will be practicing for a couple hours, then I'll head back to my room." There's a certain heavy meaning to these last words as he lifts a hand, "I never did say you were stupid, Sam. You keep adding words to what I say, accusing me of saying things I didn't. A man could find himself cross having to constantly defend what he didn't say. But. Goodnight, Sam. Bobby.." Alex turns towards the Danger Room, working on tugging open the suit. His practicing is never, really, in the suit.

*

"Y'ain't gotta say it, Havok," Sam says with a bitter twist of his lip. "Ah did." He passes through the portal and out of the Danger Room, still tense but obviously relieved to be away from the confrontation.

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