![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
LOG: Crosstime etc.
Installment #3 of the Lord of Genosha RP. Kitty, Sam. Crosstime. Etc.
"No, no - 'sall right. I'm pretty sure I need the vodka more than the orange juice right now. Do, um-- no, you make your drink, I'll drink mine," suggests Kitty after taking her glass. She makes good on her end of it, and there's quiet for a long moment. She's just watching him.
Samuel Guthrie seems to pass on the orange juice - He just pours himself a glass of vodka. He finds a place to sit for a moment, and then looks at his glass, a slight tremor in his hand becoming apparent before he wills himself to control it. Cool, calm. In control. "So you have no idea how you got here," he says, "None at all."
Kitty is very, very still. It's a tense sort of still; she tenses up when she sees Sam's hand shaking, ever so slightly. She keeps the nervousness off her face, displaced by the equally honest worry. "I've no idea how I *actually* got here. I've a few theories, but they're all based on precedent, not on any actual current data. There weren't any of the signature lightshows or attacks of crippling vertigo commonly associated with unshielded travel through time and relative dimension in space." That's it, Kitty. Relax into science, observation, recall.
Samuel Guthrie looks down into his drink. Considers. "That's... strange." That's all he can really say about it. "...I can get men to look into it. Usually things like that leave a signiture behind - Maybe we can find something that'll give us a clue on how to send you home." He downs half his drink. "...In the meantime I'd be pleased if you'd consider yourself an honored guest of the state."
Wow, he really loves him some vodka. Even if he's stated that it just doesn't help. Kitty, she has another sip - well, more of a mouthful than a sip - and hooks her feet back around the front legs of her chair. Just absent movement. Then she looks up at the blond man, eyes... searching. "I suppose someone /had/ better see, yes." There's a short pause, wherein Kitty looks down at her own glass and smiles crookedly, then glances back up. "Thanks, Sam." Slightly longer pause. It's rather like she's fishing desperately for words, sorting through them, trying to find the ones that'll get her in the least trouble. "I'm-- not in any rush to go home. If you'd like some help for a bit."
Samuel Guthrie pauses. He doesn't normally drink, but in this case he can stomach it. As for what Kitty's searching for, he's impassive, but there's a hint of... something in his eyes. Old sorrow. "You're the one in bad circumstances. I've gotten into the swing of this job - You should just consider being here a vacation until we send you home."
"They're not /bad/ circumstances. They'd be bad circumstances if I'd wound up on Earth 597. Uh -- that being the one where Hitler won World War Two, and -- I /met/ my counterpart from there, she was -- I'm babbling," Kitty cuts herself off with, glancing away. "I just -- I'd rather stay. If I can. If I /really really/ don't belong here, the Dimensional Development Court'll notice the discrepancy and send me back, eventually. But I have a feeling I'm here because I ought to be." Her face is dead serious, looking back at Sam again; her eyes are bright, alert. Just like they always were.
Samuel Guthrie blinks, rapidly. Then downs the rest of his vodka. "No, Kitty. You don't belong here - You belong there. With Pete Wisdom, with Excalibur, with the X-Men, with whoever." He stands up. "It's been a long day. I'm tired, I'm sure you're exhausted and would like to sort things out. I'm going to make sure my best temporal and dimensional experts get out there and figure out what happened, so we can set things right. I'll call Franklin Richards and have -him- send you home, if I have to. Rest assured, I'll fix this."
"Pete's dead, Excalibur's disbanded, Genosha was nuked - my father was there, too, Sam. My father was doing social work there. It was actually literally nuked. The majority of the X-Men are as close to clinically insane as you can get without a diagnosis, the Professor lives in Jean Grey's head, and I want /so much/ to do with that world that I've spent the past two years *buried* in research and /getting/ my damned doctorate instead of interacting with where I purportedly belong." She doesn't stand up - no, she slouches, and she finishes /her/ drink. Head lowered, propped up by fingertips against her forehead, elbow on the arm of her chair. Defeated Kitty. "If you want me out of your hair, your best bet is to contact Brian Braddock and get him to find Saturnyne or Roma. If he's in Otherworld, you'll have to ask Betsy to get him. If someone else is Captain Britain or the equivalent, they'd be the ones to ask." All of this is quiet, informative, lifeless. Same tone, "A holiday would be wonderful."
Samuel Guthrie turns and looks at Kitty, carefully. "...I.." He folds his fingers together behind his back. "You don't belong here. I can give you that holiday but you can't stay." Because looking at this girl terrifies him. "Kitty, so many people are dead here, or scattered to the four winds. Magneto and Professor Xavier are both gone. So many of the X-Men are dead... or they just don't want to fight anymore." He looks around. "...I suppose there might be something I can do. I'll call in a 'political' favor from Roberto and get you a penthouse in Monte Carlo or something."
"No, no - 'sall right. I'm pretty sure I need the vodka more than the orange juice right now. Do, um-- no, you make your drink, I'll drink mine," suggests Kitty after taking her glass. She makes good on her end of it, and there's quiet for a long moment. She's just watching him.
Samuel Guthrie seems to pass on the orange juice - He just pours himself a glass of vodka. He finds a place to sit for a moment, and then looks at his glass, a slight tremor in his hand becoming apparent before he wills himself to control it. Cool, calm. In control. "So you have no idea how you got here," he says, "None at all."
Kitty is very, very still. It's a tense sort of still; she tenses up when she sees Sam's hand shaking, ever so slightly. She keeps the nervousness off her face, displaced by the equally honest worry. "I've no idea how I *actually* got here. I've a few theories, but they're all based on precedent, not on any actual current data. There weren't any of the signature lightshows or attacks of crippling vertigo commonly associated with unshielded travel through time and relative dimension in space." That's it, Kitty. Relax into science, observation, recall.
Samuel Guthrie looks down into his drink. Considers. "That's... strange." That's all he can really say about it. "...I can get men to look into it. Usually things like that leave a signiture behind - Maybe we can find something that'll give us a clue on how to send you home." He downs half his drink. "...In the meantime I'd be pleased if you'd consider yourself an honored guest of the state."
Wow, he really loves him some vodka. Even if he's stated that it just doesn't help. Kitty, she has another sip - well, more of a mouthful than a sip - and hooks her feet back around the front legs of her chair. Just absent movement. Then she looks up at the blond man, eyes... searching. "I suppose someone /had/ better see, yes." There's a short pause, wherein Kitty looks down at her own glass and smiles crookedly, then glances back up. "Thanks, Sam." Slightly longer pause. It's rather like she's fishing desperately for words, sorting through them, trying to find the ones that'll get her in the least trouble. "I'm-- not in any rush to go home. If you'd like some help for a bit."
Samuel Guthrie pauses. He doesn't normally drink, but in this case he can stomach it. As for what Kitty's searching for, he's impassive, but there's a hint of... something in his eyes. Old sorrow. "You're the one in bad circumstances. I've gotten into the swing of this job - You should just consider being here a vacation until we send you home."
"They're not /bad/ circumstances. They'd be bad circumstances if I'd wound up on Earth 597. Uh -- that being the one where Hitler won World War Two, and -- I /met/ my counterpart from there, she was -- I'm babbling," Kitty cuts herself off with, glancing away. "I just -- I'd rather stay. If I can. If I /really really/ don't belong here, the Dimensional Development Court'll notice the discrepancy and send me back, eventually. But I have a feeling I'm here because I ought to be." Her face is dead serious, looking back at Sam again; her eyes are bright, alert. Just like they always were.
Samuel Guthrie blinks, rapidly. Then downs the rest of his vodka. "No, Kitty. You don't belong here - You belong there. With Pete Wisdom, with Excalibur, with the X-Men, with whoever." He stands up. "It's been a long day. I'm tired, I'm sure you're exhausted and would like to sort things out. I'm going to make sure my best temporal and dimensional experts get out there and figure out what happened, so we can set things right. I'll call Franklin Richards and have -him- send you home, if I have to. Rest assured, I'll fix this."
"Pete's dead, Excalibur's disbanded, Genosha was nuked - my father was there, too, Sam. My father was doing social work there. It was actually literally nuked. The majority of the X-Men are as close to clinically insane as you can get without a diagnosis, the Professor lives in Jean Grey's head, and I want /so much/ to do with that world that I've spent the past two years *buried* in research and /getting/ my damned doctorate instead of interacting with where I purportedly belong." She doesn't stand up - no, she slouches, and she finishes /her/ drink. Head lowered, propped up by fingertips against her forehead, elbow on the arm of her chair. Defeated Kitty. "If you want me out of your hair, your best bet is to contact Brian Braddock and get him to find Saturnyne or Roma. If he's in Otherworld, you'll have to ask Betsy to get him. If someone else is Captain Britain or the equivalent, they'd be the ones to ask." All of this is quiet, informative, lifeless. Same tone, "A holiday would be wonderful."
Samuel Guthrie turns and looks at Kitty, carefully. "...I.." He folds his fingers together behind his back. "You don't belong here. I can give you that holiday but you can't stay." Because looking at this girl terrifies him. "Kitty, so many people are dead here, or scattered to the four winds. Magneto and Professor Xavier are both gone. So many of the X-Men are dead... or they just don't want to fight anymore." He looks around. "...I suppose there might be something I can do. I'll call in a 'political' favor from Roberto and get you a penthouse in Monte Carlo or something."
no subject
Re:
Re:
Re: