1964-11-29 - Gainful Employment
Summary: Jean offers Dr. Able a job working at the Mansion.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
able jean-grey 

After serving as Jean's physician and scientific advisor for several months, Able has started to grow more comfortable around her. Somewhat. They've learned a great deal about one another, but this is the first time he's made a house call for her. Not by request and not due to reluctance, but for a lack of necessity.

Now he's stopping by to check up on her. Neither has spoken to the other in quite a while, partly due to Able being out of town on one of his quests for personal discovery. It took some time, but after finding the answers he was looking for, he returned to the city and sought her out.

As always, he's smartly dressed and neatly trimmed when he approaches the door and rings the bell. "Little pig, little pig, let me come in," he whispers while he waits. For once, his suit seems fresh rather than distressed by too much time spent in his clinic or craned over a pile of books. His black bag, something he's rarely without, dangles loosely from one hand.

Two days ago, a woman wearing black with sunhair washed up upon the shores of where ever the hell and was quietly interrogated by a few military men after treatment. One day ago, Jean Grey returned home with a stuffy nose and a bit of the chills and locked herself in her office. Children that went by could hear loud sneezes and sniffles, deep coughs that nearly resembled barking. Wags and Darla, her pups, barked in unison with her coughs, their mental thoughts figuring that Jean was attempting to assimliate herself into the culture known as Dog.

But she's been there since then, finally deciding to rouse herself from her office and into the now vacant halls, (or supposed to be), and into the kitchen for soup and a hot tea..

The bell being rung draws the attention of a passing student. One who's clearly on the edgier side, her dark hair slicked back, her eyes.. (wide as saucers, no really, they are) a pitch midnight, no lids save a thin membrane when she blinks and a slightly twisted mouth which .. by luck would have it, colored black. Her skin takes on a normal pinkish tone, but it was clear that she was a mutant of sorts especially when she opens the door.

In her pajamas.

Which were.. as one would guess it. Black.

Those large eyes stare up towards the handsome man as she hangs onto the door, her eyes blinking rather rapidly, her cheeks working in a bundle as if she were to spit, but instead a -large- pink bubble pops forth. And snaps.

"HI." She blurts. Still chewing and smacking her gum, the teens hip cocked just as her head swivels a bit. She was quite possibly hoping for a startled effect, in which the handsome man would run away and would force the Schools Administrator to activate the security measures.. which was always hilarious to watch.

"What'chu sellin' we ain' buyin." *SMACKSMACK* "Unless its food. We always buyin' food."

Able's smile is subtle and crooked, but it's there. "I'm not selling. I'm here for a house call. But if it's food you're after, I can cook."

He breezes by the 'guard' and tilts his head a fraction to one side. "I'm here to see Ms. Grey. Unless you're looking for breakfast, I'd appreciate it if you could point me in the right direction. Or if you /are/ looking for breakfast, point me toward the kitchen. I imagine I can whip something up for the three of us.

Considering he's a stranger here, he seems remarkably comfortable. He arches an eyebrow and glances back toward the young woman. "You have lovely eyes. Very unique. Do you like your eggs scrambled or fried?"

Well, that took the young teen off guard! She nearly steps back, preparing to run further into the house to call for anyone to handle the man who properly handled her, then he just.. walks in! Just like that. Handsome as he was, she was shocked and.. well..

"I.. Uh.. y.. uh.. she.."

"You let the wolf in the house." A voice appears ahead of the two, Jean, wrapped tight in her robe and looking quite pale (red nosed and.. all the signs of a damned flu), carrying a nice cup of tea that still carries the sign of heat. The dogs were nearby, laying upon the carpet behind her, obviously playing nurse to their sick alpha. "It's alright, Janie, get on upstairs to bed."

The young girl, still flattered with quite a stutter, mumbles something quietly and quickly darts off.

It has been a long while, where as Jean was just a mere student and he a pseudo-professor Doctor, she was now quite practically running the school in Charles' absense. Her degree? She possibly would tell only him the truth if he asked, but since he knows of her skillset, he could quite possibly guess.

"Don't suppose you can make soup from scratch? We don't have any here." Casual is as casual does! "And it's been a long time. How are you?"

"I might've technically just had my fourth birthday, but you'd be surprised what I can cook." He reaches up to tap one temple. "I've got about eighty years packed away up here. I make a wicked chicken noodle."

The doctor shoots Janie a smile and a wink as she departs. He's either less or more than human (depending on who you ask) but he still knows how to balance being a gentleman and a rogue. "Take me to the kitchen," he continues, returning his attention to Jean. "I'll cook while we talk. Not to be indelicate, but you look like you could use a cup of soup with a long nap for dessert."

There was a little laugh there, followed by a quickly lifting hand to cover her mouth as she coughs deeply, causing Wags and Darla to sit upright to watch, then climb to all fours in preparation to move. If only Able could hear what the dogs were thinking, he'd go mad. But Jean herself finds it all endearing.

"That's still strange to me." Jean mutters hoarsely, finally bringing the tea to her lips to sip. It was bitter, made with no milk, honey, sugar or any additives, just plain jane, much like her. With a turn, however, she tilts her head into the direction of the hall, the bottoms of her slippers scratching against the wood floor when she walks upon it, only to quiet once she hits the running carpet and off again, she was walking in zig-zags along with the dogs.

"I've slept all yesterday. Quite frankly, you couldn't have come at a better time. I've so much to do in so little time, Nurse Anne isn't willing to help to get me over the flu quickly, and our resident healer is out for business." She glances back and smiles, then gestures towards the double doors that lead to the elaborate kitch.

"Where have you been?"

Though he's not often apologetic, Jean's question elicits a frown from Able that shows he's not entirely satisfied with the question or his answer. "Cambodia, mostly. I have a… brother, we'll call him. I tried to track him back to our father, but I lost them both between there and Thailand."

Once he steels himself, there's a finality to his tone. He glosses it over once they reach the kitchen. Humming under his breath, he raids iceboxes and cabinets for the ingredients he'll need. A large pot is put on to boil, then he starts dicing carrots. "And how have you been?" he asks. "Other than contagious."

"Mm." Is all Jean could say about that. She doesn't try to use her gifts to read the emotion there, just the words and his inflections were enough for her. It wasn't as if she considered the line of questioning over, but he was not her official patient, she -was- the patient. In a sense.

"You do know, if you need assistance, I could help you." She states, leaving the offer upon the table, and sits at the nearest one was well, bundling herself up within her robe as she lets out a little cough.

Fingers snap and point towards the pantry, and the dogs dutifully enter in to lay down as they would. But, as she watches his back, and how he moves with finesse, she smiles. "A little worse for the wear. Having nightmares, or.. I don't know what they could be. Strange, they are. But, all dreams are." She sighs, then takes another sip of her tea, perking up as much as she could. "Though, I am doing that.. solo superhero thing. Met Iron Man and Superman the other day. Went as well as I could hope."

After chopping the carrots, Able follows up with a few stalks of celery and an onion. Everything is tossed into the pot to boil, then he starts on the noodles. A mountain of flour, some eggs, and a bit of water quickly coalesce into homemade pasta. Much like when he treats a patient, no moment or motion is wasted; every movement has a purpose. Right now, that purpose is soup.

"I appreciate the offer," he admits. "And likewise. Now that I'm back, you don't have to go solo. After all, what are friends for? Though it seems you're doing well enough, meeting celebrities and all."

"What I do is a bit dangerous." Jean states, unknowing of the rest of his skillset. "It would be lovely to have someone here with your skillset. You didn't flinch when you saw Janie, which I think what she intended. Even the people of Mutant Town could benefit from your expertise." Jean sips the tea again, pausing, then drinks the hot liquid down to soothe her throat.

"I didn't intend it, really. I just got a feeling that I should be -out-." She gestures a bit. "Something was attacking the space shuttle, come to find out. And the two guys were there and I helped as best I could." Speaking of. "Yeah, space shuttle. I can fly." Though, that does bring something to mind..

"I don't think we've went over -everything- necessary for us to help each other. But, that's neither here nor there. Catching up is really nice.. it.. doesn't feel like work or if you need anything from me." Yet. "I'm ra—.." She sniffs.. then sneezes loud enough so smack a hand upon the table, her hands quickly searching and shuffling into her robe to bring out a bit of tissue to wipe at her nose. "Excuse me.."

With his sleeves rolled back past the elbow and flour covering him to the wrist, the doctor is on the verge of looking domestic. It's equal parts adorable and unsettling, depending on the viewer's perspective.

Once the pasta is rolled and then sliced into neat ribbons, it goes into the pot as well. Then Able attacks his last task. Protein. Rather than chicken, he's laid claim on what's left of a large Thanksgiving turkey. Halfway through picking meat from the bones, he pauses to fix Jean with a very direct gaze. "She does have lovely eyes, though most people might not see it. The same way you have a fascinating mind. As far as danger…"

He's finished with the turkey, which also goes into the soup. While he speaks, he's washing up, then peeking into cupboards again. He locates a cast iron skillet, taps it on the counter, then turns to Jean and unceremoniously bends it into a 'U' shape. "I can look after myself."

He clears his throat, then sets the pan aside and retrieves his black bag. "You sound like you could use some antibiotics and a cough drop. I brought both."

A few last sniffles and dabbing at her nose to make sure things were proper, and Jean was upright again, watching. Every now and then, she'd take a look back towards the now slumbering pups, then back again towards the back of able. Everything smelled wonderful. "Yes, her eyes are lovely. Most people seem to forget, people are considered 'mutants'," she even makes the quote fingers, because of their outward appearance. They do not consider the gifts that the person has.. whether a manifestation of it, or mental, or spiritual." She smiles at that, then shrugs.. adding a cough to the mix. "But that debate is neither here nor there. She came to us because most thought she was alien. But would you believe that her parents are as normal as they come?" She pauses. "Yes, yes you would. Nevermind that."

But, as he bends the pan, Jean frowns just a touch, one brow lifted as she gestures towards it. "If I were a scientist I'd like to know more. But I'm not. And I still would like to know more.." She grins just then, but gets the point. Still, there was that fear of his life being snuffed out, as him as someone who needed protecting.

"Alright. How about this." She states, sitting upright to make her proposition. "I won't say I'll let you come, so I'll ask. Move in. Work with us. Help the children. Teach a class if you like. Then at night?" She nods firmly.. "We go out. Make the world a better place. Usually I'm solo, but something with last night.. it felt good." It was a good plan.. in fact.. once he was fully acclimated, she could let him in on the 'house secret'.

"What do you say?"

Able cocks his head to the side again. He does this whenever he's thinking particularly hard, looking for all the world like a dog trying to identify a particularly distant noise. It only takes a few seconds for him to relax, then shrug. "Okay," he agrees.

Is it as simple as that? It seems so. There's still an element of tenseness to him, but he seems at peace with the idea. Day to day, his goals are equal parts selfish and altruistic. Having a place and a reason to apply his talents holds a certain allure that he can't deny. "I…" the doctor pauses to clear his throat. "I appreciate the opportunity." One corner of his mouth curves up slightly. "It'll be nice to do something that matters. Though I never saw myself as a school nurse, I"

It seemed like almost all of the air was let out of the room with his agreement, her head nodding sharply as she leans back again, her fingers twiddling with the muddled tissues as a means of something to do. "You're not going to be a school nurse, we have a ton of them. Researcher, yes. Doctor, yes. Nurse? Hardly." She smiles a touch. He could also be field medic. And with his strength? Quite possibly bruiser. It was all endless.

"You'll get paid like the rest of us, trust me. And like I said, if you want to teach, you have the opportunity. There are a -ton- of students who are interested in the medical arts. I'd like to say the world is your oyster but.. everything will be fine." Until it isn't.

"Now.. about those antiobiotics. Think they'll get rid of everything -soon-?"

"One can hope. It would be nice to make a difference." Able is nonspecific at first, but his crooked smile is very much in evidence again. He rummages through his satchel until he comes up with a bottle of pills and a glass vial stoppered with a plastic cork.

"Immuno-boosters," he explains, hefting the pill bottle. "Take two every morning for a week. It'll help. This…" he holds the vial up in his other hand. "This is a consumable version of the injection that I offered you once upon a time. It will supply your body with everything it needs to heal properly. It also tastes horrible."

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