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It takes all kinds. Harry's is quiet, a relic of a bygone age, in the quiet grounds of Westchester County. Too much a drive for the average cityfolk, and far enough it weeds out the penniless officers at West Point. A girl in an indigo A-line dress makes a stir only for the fact she goes unescorted, irises in her hair and a tangle of pretty jewelry at throat and wrists. If Scarlett were a song, she might be a sonnet, visually harmonious.
She passes one of the peculiar fake palms without comment, seeking a place to one of the highbacked booths rather than at the bar. Some things are infinitely easier when not the star attraction of the moment.
*
And sitting at one of the booths is, actually, the Professor, looking a bit thoughtful. A glass of unsweetened tea is in front of him, and as he spies out Scarlett… well, really, who could /miss/ her, he smiles and waves over in her direction, doing that instead of telepathy since well, it can be a little tricky in a room with all these people.
*
The careful placement of footsteps marks an easy, graceless je ne sais quoi favouring the auburn-haired girl. The interlocked weave of metal around her waist doesn't belong entirely to anything familiar in the sartorial lexicon, but it suits her. Scarlett slips past the various revelers and those out for a tipple, reaching the booth in question. A slight swivel on her toes and she pours herself onto the vinyl booth, almost literally, shadow running ahead of her and tucking her feet safely out of the way. In every gesture executed she demonstrates a formidable physical awareness and comportment, the same way a tai-chi master knows the flow of every breath. In her case, though, a mistake is not a lovely thing at all. "Good evening, Professor." It offers the proper balance of greeting and something else. Care.
*
Charles smiles a little bit, "It looked like you needed a bit of seclusion, and I thought I'd offer you a bit of space. That is, if you don't mind my company. I've been… woolgathering a bit, to be honest." It does appear that he has something on his mind.
*
"Seclusion, Professor, is all I have." The irony laced on the words saturates around them, a winter creek frosting every syllable of something inculcated against Americanised accents. She carries a gentility rare in the former Thirteen Colonies, breezy enough to announce itself as the byproduct of the Garden of Kent. Scarlett is quiet, more than most. A glance follows to the drink in question, but she adds nothing of her own. Not that a server is likely to penetrate so far without any sort of indication or notice he's welcome. "Thank you, though. Penny for your thoughts?"
*
Charles gives Scarlett a very sympathetic look at that, and nods, "I know. I wish there was some way I could amend that for you. Did you want something to drink? The unsweetened tea is fairly good today." He's actually acting a bit… well, if it wasn't the Professor, you'd think it was rambling. But well, he doesn't ramble. Does he?
*
A drift of her hand leaves no smoke churning, no spell dancing around them. Nothing more than the idle dismissal of an offer, met with a smile, as much as it hurts to say no. "I should limit myself to water, all said." This from a woman who can drink anyone in the Institute or, admittedly, anyone around her under the table. Including most of the Asgardian court. "I appreciate the offer, however. How has your wool-gathering and cottonpicking proceeded today? One may safely say I have discovered the true meaning of life." A pause follows and she utters, in a dry tone, "Finding a way to fill the hours. Truth told, I am not very good at it."
*
Charles flags down a passing waitress, getting a refill of his tea as well as a water for Rogue, then he smiles a bit, "Well, the wool gathering was only recently… I met with Emma Frost today, to hammer out a few more details of the merger of our two schools into the Institute." He gets a bit of a wry expression, as he seems to know how the next news could be taken, "And we agreed to be co-Headmasters of the Institute, since she made the excellent point that she is an equal partner, not a subservient one. Though that's not the reason for the woolgathering."
*
"Miss Frost? I heard a fair bit regarding her through the woodwork. Thrilling times, have you officially blended your interests to hers for a broader base of academia or property?" Scarlett's queries are less pointed than curious, sunlight beaming on a foggy patch of uncertainty and doubt. Her chin dips lightly enough. "An equal partner and a lady. That will thrill a number of the girls. Not to question your leadership, but passing few places hold women in any similar respect as gentlemen. You well know out there a woman who isn't some manner of trophy or thrown a pittance as a junior partner paraded out for ribbon cuttings and smiles is a rarity at best." Her fingertips are gloved, per usual, pale fabric trimmed in lapis and indigo. "These are exciting times. I regret a failure of involvement in the past."
*
Charles actually smiles at that, thinking back to Emma, eyes growing a bit distant, "Yes, Emma, er, Miss Frost is going to be an equal partner in the school. She can bring quite a few things that I cannot, after all." He then brings his gaze back to the here and now, "Oh, sorry, a lack of involvement? I never thought you were disengaged from the school, Scarlett." He smiles a bit, meaning that sincerely, even if it's too nice a thing to think. Which is probably why he's bringing Emma in anyway, since he can be Professor Teddybear at times.
*
A pretty blonde wooing the most powerful psychic in the area. How could that possibly go astray? Scarlett is scarce one to talk, of course, but no one needs to know what thoughts ar elocked up in her head. "On the contrary, I think we might both fairly agree that I have been. Wandering my own path and finding myself in strange adventures, and now adrift in a sea of my own making." Professor Teddybear, Professor Horrorbun. Yes, that sounds about right. The bohemienne bruises the sculpted line of her mouth, fingers fanned a fraction there. "I think we collectively stand upon a turning point, and I cannot decide truly whether that portends a need to stop tiptoeing along the sidelines and pursue another path. How does one negotiate non-violence when confronted by a changing world of aliens and political hotbeds seething with wrath?"
*
The Professor nods, "Because that's what we have to do. But just because we negotiate non-violence doesn't mean we aren't prepared for what we must do to defend ourselves and the ones we love." He gives Rogue a curious look, "But, I think you have something more on your mind than that." Not that telepathy is that great with Rogue, but he's still an expert at reading people even without his powers.
*
To a telepath, she is more than a diamond: she is agony in a pretty purple dress, a forbidding palace surrounded by broken shards ready to cut and slash and burrow into the psyche. Voices moan and murmur in a cacophony of blended horrors, their pandemonium wails echoed from faceted prisons of the crystalline oubliette of her mind. It is no happy place to walk.
She draws a line yet, fingers flanking her cheekbones and palm cupped under her chin. "What needs do you perceive as the greatest, given the current state of affairs and the place within it? Is there any essential role you would see it taking?"
*
Charles hmms a bit, "Honestly, there are quite a few organizations out there, not mutants, but powerful nonetheless, and with great influence. With superhuman abilities of their own." He glances over at Rogue, and nods towards her, "We could use someone to liaison, if need be, with those people. So that our interests were protected."
*
Rogue dips her head, her flaming hair catching the light. "Certainly, there needs to be some kind of careful tiptoeing around the governments, the UN. They tell us we are approaching the doomsday hour not at a tiptoe but an all-out run between Latveria, the Soviets, and the Americans. Or aliens in the sky." Surreal green eyes shut a moment. "What would help those who are like us if not a sense of security and being clearly integrated among the world? Because we are all one people, no matter how much others try to tear apart the different races and creeds and sects of humanity."
*
The Professor smiles at that, "Precisely. I would think, for the moment, we should reach out to some of the other superhuman individuals. I'm pretty sure that there is a new team forming, though I don't have particulars regarding them. But if we can get them… someone to represent our interests with them wouldn't be a bad thing."
*
"Captain America, safely not dead, is spearheading something like that in hopes of preserving the world from coming apart at the seams. I am not sure what I can do… But I owe it to everyone to try." Wide, green eyes saturate in the lost moments among the palms, looking past Charles. Not to be rude, but in those contemplative instants, sometimes she needs something tangible to remind her not to float off and away. "The Fantastic Four went quiet, sadly, and we have next to nothing on the disassociated sorts in M-Town who want nothing to do with us. It's a start. I can provide some education on integration if nothing else, my schedule does allow for that. Focus or the like."
A moment passes, and Scarlett crosses her arms in front of her. The cup of water is clasped in hand. "It runs a risk, though. The government might see me better as a weapon than a person. Most of them. For I think we can both agree nothing I do is kind."
*
The Professor nods, "There is a risk. But if they did do something untoward with you… well." His eyes flash with an uncommon fierceness, something that you wouldn't expect of the kindly professor, but it shows up whenever his school or students are threatened. Then he nods, "But Captain America is a man of uncommon decency. I am certain that even if the government thought to use you in some nefarious fashion, he wouldn't allow it. And this can be an opportunity to see who else has these urges to save the world." His lips curl into a slight smile.
*
"I think we could fairly say I'd sit bored in a cell for a few decades to keep others safe, between you, I, and the glasses." Never trust water to forget, right? Scarlett reaches for the glass and politely sips of the beverage, and once committed, smaller tastes here and there completely eradicate the level down to the dregs without being obvious about it. Manners, they are a sort of social evasion. "I want to see good done, some as you. To have some… some purpose in this world beyond being cursed with this. Only so many chances one ever gets to make a mark, and my crimes already make a heavy dish on the scales of Ma'at." Her chin rests on her palm again, surveying Charles, expression drawn. Her mouth flattens, bleached to ivory for a moment. "It hasn't gotten any better. The… claiming, the seizure of memories. I'd like to say I have made progress, but truth be told, there isn't much."
*
The Professor nods, his expression serious, "Scarlett. I feel you've come a long way, regardless. But if you wish to do this, we'll need to reach out to Captain America… and I'm certain if I impressed our concerns, he'd be willing to concede to them." He smiles faintly, "At least, I believe he would, he seems to be a fairly reasonably fellow."
*
"I mean to do so, and I have no fear about approaching the Captain. I've a few points to help on that front. We have worked together in the past. Not enough I expect he imagines me to be some luminous heroine, but nonetheless, it may work." Her fingers curl underneath her chin, pressing to her palms. "More my concern is that I might still harm someone on error. Skin to skin. Something of that nature."
*
The Professor nods towards Rogue, "But, you'd still have that danger at the school. Maybe less of one, but it's still a risk, no matter where you are. Still, I'm not going to ask you to go if you don't wish to do so. However, I daresay you won't balance scales tending to the Institute gardens, no matter how beautifully you do it."
*
Scarlett puts down the empty glass, and she brushes her fingers over her hair. "I will do it, for it's the right thing to do. I cannot spend my days ambling about hoping for purpose to strike from the blue. Wouldst I find peace in those yonder mountains, silent in my contemplation of history…" She shakes her head, braids flowing around the cascade of irises arranged carefully in the ladder. "We both surely know I will never be satisfied by sitting still. May we arrange for at least some private tutelage to see if I can manifest any kind of control above and beyond what I have? It's becoming swiftly imperative if I'm to be in the public sphere and not wrapped up like some kind of mummy."
*
Charles nods, "Of course, I can continue trying to tutor you on your powers… it feels like there is some way to control them, we just haven't figured out how yet." He hmms, "Perhaps we could also secure Emma's assistance as well, she might have some insights on it that I lack."
*
The unease ripples up her spine and blossoms into a dark flower at the base of her neck, the colour melting away from the whiteness of her fair skin. Tastes of water hold mineral and chemical compositions difficult to assay; maybe nitrogen, maybe a wisp of granite from upstate. Scarlett breathes out a sigh. "I…" A shadow crosses those closing eyes, and she dips her head. "Allow me to consider it. For the meantime, I ought to reach out to my contacts and see what can be done to hold the peace. And if you have students who need to know about being out there, send them to me. I've some use floating about in Greenwich, and not strictly to the Avengers. Among the hidden peoples, Asgard, more."
*
The Professor nods slightly, "Of course. Take the time that you need to decide." He smiles a bit, "I know that whatever decision you make, will be the correct one. I have faith in you." And that's the thing. He does. He always seems to.
*