driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: two nerds and you
Broadcast: fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: now!

[ The audio comes on sharply, but everything is still dark as two people discuss their situation.]

Is that the camera? Can you get it to work?

I - think so? Here, push this --

I am pushing it, Hank. I thought you knew about these from that show you keep watching. Space Trek?

It's Star Trek and that isn't exactly - you know, the same thing as this.

Right. . . . Wait, I think I see something on the side.

[ And the video flickers on, the red light glowing softly. It focuses on two men. One in a wheelchair and the other right next to him, peering curiously at the camera before they step back satisfied. ]

Well, that’s over and done with. Hello to anyone who might be out there. My name is Charles Xavier and this is Hank McCoy. Apparently we’ve been kidnapped again, by an unknown force again for some mysterious reason.

[muttered:] Again. [and louder] So if anyone would be kind enough to explain exactly what's going on, we'd appreciate it. You have our thanks in advance.

But do keep it pertinent.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Understatement of the century, that.

[It's adorable, how he winces at having cursed. Realizing what he just thought, Kurt is suddenly struck with the urge to scour his mind with a brillo pad. This place is driving him crazier than he already was.]

Maybe you don't. I'd like to think that; he was a monster, but a brilliant man with such potential to do good for the world. I'd very much like to think that potential was realized in more worlds than it wasn't.

[that's a little nicer than other things he's been told. He closes his eyes, rubs at his face, then sighs out, slow]

I wish I could say that I'll become that man someday - the one who'll do real good for the world. I tried to be him, once. Not - as a mutant, but as a scientist.

But I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe a word I say, either. I - know it isn't easy, to hear a name and not automatically expect the worst.

I don't. [It isn't cruel, how he says that. Neither is it particularly kind, though his voice is softer. It's a simple statement of fact.] I'd like to, but the fact remains you're simply too dangerous to trust on your word and that of a man I've never met.

Suppose it won't surprise you if I say I'll be keeping an eye on you?

["too dangerous"; that's one descriptor he's never heard used about himself. but he nods at what Kurt says, because he gets it. God only knows, he'd do the same thing, if he ever ran into someone he knew to be bad, only to find out they come from somewhere where they're good instead]

It doesn't. But you're welcome to get to know me, too. Ah - the normal way, not through - [he gestures] - following me around.

Me, getting to know you. [He laughs then, soft and strained.] What a place this is turning out to be. Fairy tales and dead men walking among the rest of us.

[Shaking his head, the next words out of his mouth are almost a surprise to himself.] ..Maybe.

[that's - something. That's a start, and Hank won't push for anything more. But he understands the sentiment - while he hasn't run into fairy tales, he's been speaking to other mutants - mutants who aren't afraid to walk around as themselves. That's something new to him]

My door's always open. [is what he finally offers]

Both ways, or should I write a will before coming to visit? [He's actually not serious, if the worn chuckle he punctuates with is any indication.] I'll take you up on it. Maybe one of these days I'll let you see me when I do.

I'll try not to check the corners. [he isn't exactly sure how Kurt will get in there, but he isn't going to ask. He figures Kurt won't let him catch him unless he wants to] But - no wills needed.

Check all the corners you want, you won't find me in them. [Ceilings, on the other hand..

There's a noise off camera, and the eyes tilt upward and away. After a second he starts cursing in soft German, and the camera starts to tilt.] See you around, Dr. McCoy. Don't fuck up.

[With no more warning than that, Kurt cuts the feed.]

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