milliways_bar | (no subject)

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A woman walks into the bar. Redhead, appears under the age of thirty, wearing a turquoise dress with black polka dots, a pair of stylish black heels. If one looks very close, those might be a pair of Death Stars hanging from her ears; in all other respects, though, the woman looks composed and collected. Maybe even a touch reserved.

Any resemblance to a certain redhead drunkenly singing Queen, and then various Soviet songs a few nights ago is clearly just a coincidence.

Clearly.

Nadine makes her way over to the Bar, and requests not food nor drink, but one Charles Xavier's thesis. The document appearing, she finds herself a table and starts to idly flick through. It's something to read while she decides what to eat.

(And she wants to get an idea of how the man thinks before she decides on how to handle a telepath.)

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X just looks at Nadine.

"I am sorry."

It is true.

X would prefer it if no one else understood. Ever.

"So am I. That you know, too.

I got out, though."

Did you?

"I did, too."

X's gaze drops for one second.

Two.

"But they could still control me."

It still bothers her. Except --

She looks up at last.

"They cannot do it anymore. My friends helped me to make sure."

Elle. Bruce. Amy.

Thor.

It is important.

"Good."

For all her voice is even, there is a vehemence there.

People like that should be stopped. And having back-up...

It helps. In more ways than one.

"Yes."

X reaches out, careful but not hesitant, to pat Nadine's shoulder.

Once.

If she is allowed.

X is allowed.

"I have back-up now, if...my old school rear their heads again."

Until then, she's staying away. Hopefully everyone involved is dead.

"It helps," X agrees.

"They can be very stubborn. Old -- schools."

She does not make a face.

"Usually it gets them dead. But they do not learn very quickly."

She snorts.

"They've had over seventy years now."

She is...dubious if anyone learnt anything, except more subtlety. Maybe.

(Making her think she was a ballerina, seriously.)

"That is probably a good sign."

Right?

One can hope, anyway.

"New groups always think I am easier to control than my brother."

Idiots.

There is a faint roll to her eyes.

"I'm a myth. Or just a woman."

It might say something that she alternates between genuine frustration, and enjoying turning the tables on people who make certain assumptions based on her gender.

"People are stupid."

If X were someone else, her voice would be very dry.

As she is X, it is flat and affectless instead.

"Sometimes it is useful."

"I certainly wouldn't argue with you there."

X does not laugh. Really.

"You have met many people."

It comes with their line of work. (For one thing.)

"A large number, yes."

Not that she remembers most of them.

"Sometimes Milliways is better."

But only sometimes.

"I've found it - in that respect - to be much like everywhere else."

X's shrug is one-shouldered and quick.

"I have not. Always."

A little wry,

"Maybe you have better luck with conversational partners than I do."

She does not intend to look awkward.

"I practice."

This is true.

"And people here are -- "

She pauses, looking for the right words.

"More of them are used to being dangerous. Or to knowing dangerous people. It helps."

Beat.

Two beats.

"I think," she says, slowly, "for that effect to kick in, one must first admit to being dangerous."

Which, well.

Spy.

X considers that.

Carefully.

Maybe Nadine and Cass Cain would get along . . .

"It is problematic," she agrees finally. "When talking limits your efficacy."

Beat.

"People are supposed to see me coming."

(That, and see where she's been. Most of the time, anyway.)

She snorts lightly at the first part of X's statement, and then inclines her head.

"People see me...when I want them to."

Barring mishaps.

"You're right about how it can occasionally be frustrating."

"If you do not mind. Most of the time."

There's a little bit of a question in that.

X worries.

"It is okay."

Beat.

"I am frustrated sometimes, too. Talking."

Not everyone has the patience to parse her weirdness.

So it goes.

"I enjoy talking to you," she says, honestly. "I was speaking in general. Being deliberately misleading, or hiding things, even when not working...

It can be tiring, sometimes."

X considers this, head tilting very slightly.

"You can never stop?"

Beat.

"Not on other worlds?"

She's curious. But it might also be important.