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It was finally time. I had been at least a week, or two, since the flooftastically haired girl was offered to visit the stately manor that resided in Westchester, New York. Just getting a taxi to go that far would cost her a pretty penny, but, she was curious, and the ideas spawned in her mind by Hank McCoy were worth the price. Rolling through the iron gate and up the round about, she pauses and simply stares at the grandure of it all; the sprawling grounds, the flower beds, and the looming giant that was the mansion itself. "Kid, the fare.""Oh…sorry." She murmurs, digging some crumbled bills from her pocket and then passing them up. Stepping out, the car pulls away and she lingers outside the double doors.
One timid step closer, and then another, carries her to the entry way, and with the smallest fist, she gives the door a few heavy 'thunk's.
*
Even the front door itself is fancy, heavy and paneled with what look like wrought iron fixtures. Her knock sounds small and low against it, and she might be left wondering if anyone could even have heard it in so huge a place — but then all at once the door is opened by yet another man in a cardigan. This one however is shorter, and beaming as if there were an old friend at his door instead of a scruffy stranger. "Good afternoon!" he greets with a distinctly British accent. "Charles Xavier," he says, holding out one hand. "Hank mentioned that you might stop by. Lynette, isn't it? Please, come in." he says, stepping back from the doorway.
The entryway inside is all warm hardwood and a dangling chandelier, curved staircases and well lit rooms visible along hallways further in. "I understand you're here to learn more about our school?"
*
Lynette blinks for a moment, offering the rather chipper fellow a soft, bashful smile. "Y-yeah, dat's me." She answers, reaching up to scritch at the nape of her neck before offering out her own hand for the shake. "T'anks. Yeah, m'jus' curious 'bout t'ings. I don', well, don' really know much 'bout m'self n' Hank, uh…Mr. McCoy suggested I come n'visit." Stepping inward, her dark eyes skip about, taking in all there was to see. Small details get locked away into her memory, and there's already a slack-jawwed expression coming from the lanky youth with massive hair and second-hand clothing.
Once their hands meet, her grip tightens as she becomes rigid. There's a twitch, flex at the round of her nose, and after a moment, she pulls away, rather quickly, and hides both her hands behind her back. "Sorry. M'sorry. I can'…Don' know how t'…" She doesn't seem to have the words about what just happened to her.
*
The man Xavier blinks, even before she pulls her hand behind her back. "..Don't know how to control it?" he supposes, smiling a touch ruefully as she hides her hands. "It's alright, Lynette, no harm done. You're far from the only one to struggle with such problems. And in many cases they are problems which can be mastered with time and practice."
*
"I know dat. Been hearin' dat fr'm lots a'people. Jus' dunno where t'start." Nibbling her lower lip, she glances around the foyer once more, seeing if people were there, or moving about. Then, she brings her large, obsidian orbs up so that they settle on the Brit's face attentively. "How-what do I do? Dis a school, ain't it? I don' got de money f'somet'ing like dis. Ain't dat special, neither." Blinking, she keeps her hands behind herself, nervously tugging at each digit in turn. "I don' wanna waste y'time, neither. C'n y'tell me 'bout dis place? What is it, 'nyway?"
*
"Though there is a tuition, we have financial aid arrangements for those who need it." Xavier replies, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "I do realize how this might all look," he continues, one of those hands immediately reappearing to gesture to their surroundings with an amused smile, "but I assure you, from what I know of you, you would be excused from tuition were you to enroll. As to your question, I often find that the best place to start is to not be afraid to learn." Xavier says, leading her towards one of the side rooms where there are chairs and tables and a good deal of books. There's some sort of design worked into the middle of the entryway floor in different colors of wood, with an 'X' in the centre. "Those visions for example; do they happen often when you touch someone?"
*
Lynette follows, giving a soft nod at first to the news of tuition, but once he continues, she can only blink. The flats on her feet pass along the 'x' on the floor with silence, and the belling sleeves of her somewhat baggy top sway with every step. Once in the library, she takes note of the books, browsing their spines casually, before moving behind a seat, not yet claiming it as her own. "M'not 'fraid t'learn. M'jus' scared 'bout what I do. Got s'mebody willin' t'help me wit parts a dat. S'magic, I t'ink." Listening, she can only shrug at his question. "Don' know. S'metimes it happens, den it don'. Ain't gotta touch nobody neither. S'metimes it jus' happens dependin' on where I am. When all dat stuff was happenin' at de park? M'mind wouldn' shut up. Was maddenin'."
*
"Fear of what could happen if you try to learn is still an obstacle to learning." Xavier points out, taking a seat himself. He's not sure what to make of how easily she accepted his 'guess' about what happened when they shook hands. Perhaps she's just used to people who are discussing such things having heard about it. "But as to your earlier question, this place belonged to my parents. It's since been converted into a school for those with unusual gifts."
*
"Y'tink dese are gifts?" She questions, giving a quirk of her brow. Slumping into her own seat now, she watches Charles from across the table and keeps her silence for a time. "Why y'doin' t'ings like dis? Y'know dere's people out dere dat hate y'? Den, y'know, people dat hate me cause I ain't white. Or a guy." She murmurs, lowering her eyes then and taking a breath.
*
"And that's a terrible shame, Lynette." Xavier says, no trace of irony in his voice. He takes a seat across the small table from her, crossing one leg over the other knee. "But the best way to combat hate, and the fear that breeds it is with understanding. And for those with abilities like ours, before we can show others that we can be understood, we need to understand ourselves. Unusual abilities may not seem much like 'gifts' at first, but they are a part of us. Part of what makes us the individuals we are."
*
"M'jus' not sure 'bout all dat. M'powers, dey scary. Least dey are t'me. I keep meetin' people dat got powers, too, n'dey jus' so…normal. Happy, almost. Like, dey content wit de world. Mine either do lil t'ings, or dey hurt people; they ain't no middle ground. Least I don' t'ink." Her fingers tap idly atop her thighs, and after a few more moments of breathing, she lifts her head and looks out toward Xavier once more. "Y't'ink y'c'n help s'mebody like me wit y'school? I don', I mean, I don' wanna be 'round if y'don' t'ink I should be, Mr. Xavier."
*
"A lot of us can seem scary. Hank still hides for fear of how people will react. A good many people are frightened of me at first as well." he admits with a shrug. "I think being content with the world comes from a sense of ownership of the things that make us different, which again comes from familiarity, understanding. And," he gives a little smile, glancing towards the main area of the building, "Knowing there are others who understand and accept you can be a very great boon for many as well."
*
"Suppose so. Wait, what's wrong wit Hank?" Curious, now, she cants her head to the side, causing tendrils of kinky jet to spring over her shoulder. "I wouldn't a known anyt'ing jus' by seein'im." Following his gaze, she focuses on the space outside the room, and then back to the library itself. "Truth? I don' really like bein' 'round dat many people. I only jus' stopped runnin' recently. I gotta lot t'learn. Don' trust easy."
*
"That I'd best leave to Hank to elaborate on, but there's certainly nothing wrong with him." Xavier replies. "And yes, I can see that. I'm not here to talk you into attending, or even into trusting us. That's the sort of thing that generally can only come with time. But I am here to offer a hand, should you feel you need one now or in the future."
*
"Looks nice." She admits, despite herself. "Seen s'me pretty places in m'travels, but dis place jus' feels diff'rent. N'no, I don't t'ink dey anyt'ing wrong wit Mr. McCoy. Dat's why I was askin' why he'd be 'fraid a'anyt'ing." The girl doesn't press the matter, however, indeed leaving it up to Hank to explain someday. Pressing up from her seat, she takes a few easy strides around the table, then closer to the books. He can see her hands now, resting against the dip of her spine, and each finger tugging at the other in some lingering, nervous twitch. "S'it safe here?" She questions at length, turning to face Xavier once more.
*
"As safe as we can make it." Xavier responds a bit more soberly, still sitting in his chair. "It perhaps should go without saying, but I would appreciate if you didn't tell anyone details about this place or where it is without first consulting Hank or I."
*
Lynette nods once more, those curls giving an easy bounce. "Well, s'hopeful here. Least, dat's what it feels like t'me. If y'let me, I-I t'ink I'd like t'attend here." Then, she gives him a soft, warm smile. "Y'got classes in cookin'? I like doin' dat, n' bakin'. Mostly bakin'." The girl confesses, and then his next instruction arrives. "Oh, don' worry 'bout dat. I don' know many people no way. I promise, I leave dat t'you n'him." Her brows then slope as if she were confused for whatever reason. "Uh…so, what'd I do now, Mr. Xavier?"
*
There's a warm smile from the Xavier as she describes the impression the school gives her. In all honesty he couldn't be better pleased, especially with the somewhat cold history it had had before the school. "Professor actually, and while we don't have formal instruction in baking, I'm sure there would be those amongst the students and faculty who would be in full support of a club to that effect." he chuckles. "As to what's next, I understand you've a job in the city to balance? Does it have a regular schedule?"
*
"Professor? Oh…y'a professor. Sorry." Clearing her throat she looks side-long with a bit of heat touching her mocha cheeks. "Uh, yeah. I work at de Cigar Fact'ry. S'late hours, dough, n'I t'ink Luke'd understand me goin' t' school. I sleep in de man's office at de moment, so." She shrugs and rolls on her feet briefly, just rocking forward and back on her flats. "Nah, ain't regular. De classes, I…t'ink I c'n work 'round dem instead?" Her lips then part, without a word, and she closes them again. With a bit of hesitation, she meekly questions, "Dis place…students live here, too, or dey travel?"
*
"It's quite alright, it's not as if I said. It took me over a year to remember myself, if you'll believe it." Xavier replies with amusement, though his eyebrows raise as she mentions her current sleeping arrangements. "We have students that do both." he answers. "There would be a room open to you, if you would prefer that." he mentions, though he doesn't push that on her either.
*
A room. Safety. Understanding and the ability to learn? The girl can't help but to smile. It's honest, warm, and most of all, gratious. She sniffles, lightly, and rubs at her instantly burning eyes. A step, and then another, the girl moves to the side of the man's chair, and her lanky arms snake around his shoulders. The hug is tight, but brief, and as soon as it began, she pulls away. "I-t'anks. I'd like dat. All of it."
*
Xavier stands up a second before she reaches the chair, apparently recognizing her intention. He returns the hug, patting her back. "Well." he says with a warm smile. "In that case welcome to our school, Lynette."
*