2012-10-25 The Morning After

It's still raining, having let Psylocke spend the night, Jynn slepts on the couch allowing Psylocke to sleep in his room. Last night was a good night but they didn't find what Psylocke was looking for or possibly who. Awake early, breakfast being cooked, bacon and pancakes, breakfast finished and plated, he walks all teh food into the living room and sets them down on the table. He didn't know if Psylocke was awake, but hopefully the smell of food would get her up. Leaning back and resting his head on teh edge of the couch, Jynn remembers what happened last night. The fight was intense, more intense because teh thugs didn't care if any of their own were killed, then Psylocke punched aman in his head sending some energy into him. She explained her abilities, but he could feel she didn't want to elaborate and he wasn't the one to push her to reveal more then she wanted.
Though she did seem to open up to him a bit, which was nice and to say she wasn't beautiful, you would have to be gay to not look at her. A blush does rise up on his cheeks, and she is a great fighter too, bonus points in his book. Stretching out and yawning, he looks back towards the closed door to his room, hopefully she will be getting up. But then he remembers, 'Telepath.' Hmmmm....'Breakfast time.' he says in his head wondering if she could pick that up.
Ordinarily, Betty Braddock is one of those endlessly frustrating people who comes swanning out of their bedroom in perfect shape - all neat, clean and gracefully poised as though the process of awakening were somehow not a horrible bitch-troll lurking in mankind's forbidden closet. Even worse, by recent habit she's an early riser, ever seeking to keep the fine-tuned athleticism of her newfound body 'just so'. This morning, however, is an entirely different matter.
The proferred bed was comfortable enough, and after shrugging into a borrowed t-shirt and shorts she'd had no problem settling down. But it's been a long time since she attempted sleeping in a city, and with the adrenaline of the fight cooling in her veins, she relaxed too much; allowing the cacophonous thought patterns of a million city dwellers to assail her. What followed was a night spent tossing and turning, huffing up at the darkened ceiling and endlessly replumping her pillow and brushing hair from her face. On a positive note...
This does mean that Jynn gets to surprise her, the wafting odour of a hearty breakfast finding the telepath's nostrils as she lies with her head between two pillows, legs halfway out of the bedclothes and face a picture of almost adolescent grumpiness. "Hnnrgh," comes the immediate objection to her realization of the hour, but then she begins to stir at the behest of a single voice in her skull, louder and more familiar than the others.
By the time she emerges a few minutes later, she's still a bit of a mess. The borrowed shirt hangs off one shoulder - though admittedly that might just be found cute - and her purple hair is mussed and tangled. She's got one arm lifted as she finds the living room, pushing back the tangled fronds as she blearily blinks down at the reclining vigilante.
"You... cooked?" She manages with an Herculean effort, usually clear tone steeped in a groggy uncertainty of diction. Batting her slanted violet eyes, she glances from him, to the table, and then to the next nearest chair. Drawing and releasing a sigh, she sinks down, before immediately groaning and tipping her head back. "Wh'time is it?"
Watching Betsy emerge from his room is a sight to see, with her bare shoulder showing and her in a pair of his basketball shorts, he chuckles al ittle bit as he watches her. Oh yeah morning grumpiness is always a sight to see, most can't stand it and honestly Jynn is used to being up early in the morning, but then again he works at a Rec Center, so dpending on what needs to be done he does it. "Morning Beautiful." he says as he looks at her. Watching her as her long purple hair falls into her face and her moving her hand back to move the long fronds from her face. It is a treat to him and one he wouldn't have wanted to miss.
"Yes, I do cook." he tells her. "Please eat." he says as he looks to Betsy and pushes over her plate of three buttermilk pancakes and bacon and a very large glass of orange juice. "You sleep well?" he asks her.
Blissfully disregarding how she looks; in the special way that only a recently awakened adult woman can be, Betsy is therefore surprised to hear the flirtatious epiphet, blinking once more at the man opposite her as though attempting to rationalize what she just heard. "Hn," she manages first, and rather unhelpfully, before giving a slow shake of her head, "I very much doubt that..." Chagrin in her tone, she nonetheless adds, "But thanks."
At that point her violet gaze rolls back toward the table, as the drowsy X-Woman takes another tentative sniff of the air. It does smell good-- and Lord knows she doesn't maintain her energy by refusing to partake of sustenance. When food comes her way without even trying it's almost like she's reached out with her mind, a feat that's unhappily beyond her. Laughing beneath her breath, she reaches for the juice first and takes a long, cool draw, letting it wash the soreness from a grumbly throat. As she drinks, a closed eye cracks open to fixate Jynn.
"'Please eat'?" She echoes with a quirk of her lips once she lowers the glass, one eye still half-closed against the unwelcome glare of light upon a face that's not seen enough all-consuming darkness in the past twelve hours. "You know, there was a time I actually had to be convinced, but this smells..." Tailing off, she grabs the appropriate cutlery and hacks off the edge of one milky pancake, before offering a tired grin and a shrug. "Well, good enough to eat."
After a few mouthfuls, she draws and releases a big sigh, fork falling limp against the plate with a satisfied *clink*. "No, I didn't sleep well. I'm not sure I slept at all. It's bad enough being haunted by your own nightmares, but listening to other peoples'?" Raising a long-suffering brow, she lifts her fork again and gives it a spin before plunging it plateward. "Don't get me started. You?"
Digging into his food, Jynn cuts up his pancakes quick and easy, his fork stabbing the thick cake, which has syrup on it, and what Betsy may taste is ahint of cinnamon and some raisins. Yes Jynn takes great pride in his cooking and as he stops to look at Betsy, he quirks a brow up at her as he watches her. "Well it's the truth." he tells her. "No matter if you try to convince me otherwise." Shrugging his shoulders a bit, he allow her groggyiness to slowly bleed away. He's not used to having anyone but his parents stay with him over night, so this is a bit of a first for him. But as he gets up, he walks over to teh window and closes the blinds a bit to help her wake up naturally without the harsh brightness of the sun in her face.
Walking back over to the couch, Jynn sits down and watches her eat, "You should never be convinced to eat anything, if you want to, you do it. If not you don't." Picking up his food stabs a few more pieces of cake and eats it. As she states that she hadn't slept well, he frowns a bit but he does nod his head. "I was fine, the couch is pretty comfortable." He chuckles a little at her tired grin, "Well if you don't need to be anywhere, you can stay here and rest up a bit at least."
"Oh, I wouldn't try to convince you otherwise, it just--" 'Isn't exactly MY body?' comes the thought quickly aborted from speech. Betsy has no illusions regarding the appeal of the form she's taken; nor that she left behind, bloody and broken, on the coast of China. But like anything else that once came naturally, the game of gentle flirtation feels odd and distant when occupying an outer shell belonging to another. At times she can swear she feels the resonance of that person... and it's in the background now, drawing a troubled frown from the sleepy woman.
"Never mind," she amends quickly, favouring Jynn with a smile whose warmth does not entirely touch her violet eyes - well-intentioned and heartfelt as it still is - when he eases closed the blinds. She resumes eating for a few moments as he shoulders the conversation, a second pleasant smile delivered around a mouthful of syrupy goodness when he assures her of his own comfort. She'd protested at this decision last night, of course; she's slept in many places, and a couch would have suited her as adequately as anywhere. But the comfort was appreciated.
"I'm not sure where I need to be, for a couple of days. I have... business... outside of Gotham, but I've also obtained a lead that may be bringing me back shortly." Sighing once more, this time more with frustration than the mere hardship of waking, she shakes her head, dispensing with her fork to lift her glass and take another gulp of orange juice. Her gaze wanders as she does so, rolling around the room, taking in - out of hard-won habit - everything from furniture to the available exits. She curses herself a bit for that, inwardly. Untrusting. "Mm," putting the glass down, she looks back to Jynn, "I suppose I should fill you in about last night. I doubt you've made any serious enemies, but you can't be too careful. Before I do..."
She lifts her free hand, tucking away a strand of hair and raising an eyebrow questioningly, "I don't suppose you have any coffee?"
Always weary even of pretty strangers, but Betsy has put to ease a lot of his worries last night during and after the fight at the club. Jynn is careful by nature only having alllowed his attention to slip only a few times during teh times of just meeting new people and possible friends. But even around his friends, Jynn tries to maintain a watchful eye of everyone. "No worries." he tells her as Betsy cuts off her sentence. He isn't trying to grill her at all, but as she begins eating again, Jynn looks to his plate and finishes off his bacon, picking up his glass he sips at his orange juice. The orange juice is nice and cold, so cold that the condensation on the glass allows for a little of it to run down the glass.
The conversation last night about where she would sleep was easy, he wasn't going to have her sleeping on the couch, that was end of story. She is a guest in his home and city, she would have his room and that was the end of it. When she relented he smiled, made her some tea. "I see." he says in response to her comment about her having to leave. "Well if you want help on that lead, let me know." he says to her. "As of that question of how good a student I am." Jynn turns to her and bows his head and brings his hand together in a Japanese form of salute. "I would like for you to train me as your protoge'." he says to her. He bows his head again and holds it for a moment then lowering his hands. "As for enemies, Gotham City isn't pleasent and I already deal with the gangs here and believe me that don't like me at all. So being filled in would be nice."
Among the trials and tribulations of being a telepath, particularly a powerful one, is the inherent social risks in being capable of foreseeing a person's actions. When scanning a person's mind, even in a semi-conscious background sense, Psylocke often encounters an emotion before it's outwardly expressed. It prepares her for what's to come, though she's taught herself to fake surprise in the event that she's monitoring stealthily. It's helped saved many undercover missions in the past - in her work for S.T.R.I.K.E. among others.
Here, quite the reverse happens. She's respecting Jynn's privacy, having already seen and heard enough to know he can be held in confidence, and his sudden formality is only a partial clue. She's expecting something humorous or teasing when he begins to bow...
What she gets, is momentarily astonishing.
"My protege?" She echoes, in turn an echo of her earlier reflection. Seated on an armchair in a baggy, dishevelled shirt and mussed hair, she's hardly the picture of a respectable sensei, but does her best to respectfully straighten and look the part. Primly clearing her throat, she curls an eyebrow at the bowed young man. "I'm not sure I'm precisely what you're looking for, Jynn. I'm still learning myself..." The protest is a little ill-placed and she knows it, mind darting back to what memories of her brainwashed time she recalls. When she rules the underworld as Lady Mandarin. One truth does remain. "A lot of my apparent skill comes from my powers."
Reflecting further, she furrows her brow, mouth drawing to a line as she considers. Then, with a cool toss of her head, back straight, she delivers a firm nod to the risen vigilante.
"I'll do what I can, but you don't need to keep honouring me; you handled yourself well last night, and I'd fight alongside you again as an equal, if it came to that. Who knows? Perhaps you'd even be able to teach me something at the same time. There are many styles, and many more warriors who wield them. The... gang I was tracking last night are known as the Hands of Fate, but I suspect they're connected to an organization in China known only as 'The Hand'. If nothing else, I could... show you how they fight, teach you how they think."
Warming to the idea, her lips curve into a cold smile, gaze slipping from Jynn toward the shaded window as she continues speaking. Sounding much like the teacher she has protested being. "It's said that your greatest enemy is the one you cannot see; how do you fight the unseen? How do you strike a shadow?" Violet eyes slip back to Jynn. "My abilities give me more answers than I can provide you, but there are ways and means. Any foe can be countered if you know their weakness. How long have you been training, Jynn? How long have you been..."
Jynn's mind isn't one that is open, but he doesn't hide his intnetions from Betsy. He has no reason to hide anything, granted she's saw him fighting and well if she did pick up something she would know his only concern is the worry of not being able to protect everyone, not being skilled enough. But as Betsy straightens up and is able to get herself together a bit because when someone confesses to wanting to be trained by someone more experienced then they are.
When he is told that she isn't precisely what he is looking for in a teacher, but he continues watching her, listening to her words and watching her movements as she spoke. "Well then we can learn together then." he tells her. His response is one of well thought and positive. But it's then when he sees her begin to tell him that her skill comes from her powers. Nodding his head slowly, Jynn smiles when she later tells him that she would do what she can, and that eh did well and she would be willing to fight alongside him again. To him that is more then he can ask for. "Thank you.." he says a small blush shows on his face. "Like I said, we learn and teach one another. Bring out more of what we can do together then alone, maybe to a point that we are able to read each other to know what we want, and do." He doesn't have mind powers, but he does have crazy reflexes that helps him.
Going quiet when Betsy begins speaking abou the gang she is tracking, his eyes focuses on her. Taking in everything she is saying, he's never heard of the Hands of Fate or The Hand. This is new to him, very new and now that he's been brought into Betsy's world a bit he knows there will be more to keep watch for. "That would be good and I'm ready when your ready to teach me." he tells her. Seeing the change in her a bit moving from not wanting to be a sensei to moving into the role just this easily causes him to smile a little. Nodding his head, "I see. As for how long I've been doing this." he thinks. "About a year and a half, I have no costume, no fancy equipment like some of the other people have. I just have my guns and my body."
Betsy doesn't need to be psychic to read Jynn's intentions from his combative stylings; the training her body has undergone, along with her own experiences, allow her - to a certain extent - a fair amount of insight through mundane observations. The attacks he chose to execute, the speed and nature of his reactions, all of these things hint toward one's purpose in battle. And as any trained martial artist knows, there are ever parallels between the fight... and life. A warrior shows his or her true nature through their fists and their feet.
"That's all you need, Jynn," the X-Woman responds with a faint, lingering smile, "And I'd even contest the guns if I didn't spend half my life with a sword strapped to my back." Her expression turns self-effacing at that, a hand reaching underneath the opposite armpit to scratch at her shoulder blade. "That, and the right attitude. There aren't a lot of people who could do what you did last night with five or six years of experience; let alone eighteen months. I hate to sound like a book of proverbs, but..."
Her hand drifts upward, a finger flexing back to tap at her temple, then the arm dropping to beat a closed fist against the upper curve of her left breast. Padded by the loose, borrowed shirt, the gesture lacks that punctuating thump, but it's clear enough what she means.
"A warrior's greatest tools are his head, and his heart. Of course," her lips curve once more, this time into a good-natured grin, her head tipping slightly askance and a gleam creeping through those distinctive violet eyes, "Being a little more than merely human doesn't hurt." Gaze lingering on Jynn, she reaches for her half-finished glass of orange juice, lifting it to her mouth before curving a brow over the rim. "When did you find out?"
"Flourish can get you killed most times, which is why I use primarily Wing Chun, and Bagua." he tells her. "Keeping close to my opponents and not letting them get to far away and striking vital areas." he quites himself figuring she saw that last night. Jynn doesn't like talking about how he fights, but he doesn't assume anything about what she knwos about him. When she assures him that it's all he needs is what he has, he smiles a bit more now, "I always thought that you had to have gadgets and such to be more effective." Shaking his head and feeling more secure now in what is what is needed.
It's her smile that gets him to smile at her again, he chuckles a bit. "Well my weapons rarely comes out, but last night I almost used them last night, but felt it would've did more harm then what we were doing." Shaking his hea a little and he smirks at her as those violet eyes focus on him. "Or they would try to do somethign they thought was cool and be put down and stop." he sighs. "I've seen that happen." he looks embarrassed and a mental image of what he tried when he first started didn't go well at all. As she motions to her head and heart, he clearly understood where she was going with her proverb. But as her gaze linger on him, then when asked, he shakes his head. "It wasn't until my grandfather trained me in using guys that I knew for sure." he explains. "I was able to fire at things I shouldn't have been able to hit, even when fighting, I was catching my senseis quicker, but they were able to react quickly enough to lessen the blows I sent back at them. Iv'e only been training since I was ten years old."
"Sometimes technology helps," accedes Psylocke with a gentle shrug, setting down the emptied glass of juice. "At others it slows you down; one more thing to think about, and keep with you. I've generally fought alongside a partner, or a team, or alone as part of a unit watching my movements remotely. What you can't do, or would cause you difficulty, another can cover for. Specialize, and you know you'll succeed in that area." The more she speaks, the crisper and more clipped her upper-class British tone sounds. Every bit the ex-intelligence operative.
Nodding along to the rest, she appears to be lining up the pieces of a puzzle, taking Jynn's proposition - and her acceptance - very seriously indeed. Once committed, she does not falter or hesitate to be the best she can be. A quality she's hoping for in him, too.
"So you prefer using your body, but you rarely grapple..." Her lips purse thoughtfully, a weighing glance going the length of Jynn's body with the air of a consummate professional. "That's the first thing I'll teach you to change. In close combat, you need to cover every base; an opponent can surprise you, if you don't surprise them first. You need to be unpredictable. Fight the same man twice, and the second time he knows what you can do. The more cards in your deck, the more strings to your bow," she lets out a breathy laugh, smiling, "The more bullets in your clip, the less chance you'll ever be caught out. I used to rely on my powers alone and it--"
Suddenly she bites her lip, not wracked by remembered pain or disheartened, merely unsure how best to phrase what follows without complexifying this. Trust may have been earned; but Betsy has never been one for full disclosure. Sometimes it's just easier.
"I paid for that. There are ways to nullify our gifts, and sometimes they just do no good. That you keep guns, it's... good. Even better that you hold them back when needed." Suddenly she becomes less formal, delivering one last efficient nod before grinning and reaching for her plate, the expression easily touching her eyes. "I'm sure we can work well together," she declares with relative brightness compared to her usual, cooler mien, busily folding the last piece of her remaining pancake onto her fork. "Though to tell you a secret, I've been training nowhere near as long as you have. Only a few years, in fact."
Letting that sink in, she opens her mouth as wide as propriety allows, and resumes eating.
Jynn is like a sponge, sucking up the information Betsy is providing him. It is good to have someone who has been donig this long then you to be willing to impart some knowledge to you. Another fact that he is happy to be solo again, the last group not panning out well with him. "I see. Well I do keep my guns with me. Knowing that I should have soemthing with me at all times." Rubbing the back of his head, Jynn gives her a small smile. Hearing her clipped and crisp tone of her voice, he could see she was getting into this mentorship.
When she mentions him not grappling, he hadn't told her that, but then again she did see him fight. "I rarely use it, but I see your point." He didn't want to be predictible, nor did he want to have his opponents getting the drop on him. "I don't want that happening and right now anyting you can train me in, I will work on it." he says. Already done with his breakfast and juice. But as she speaks about how she used to use her powers and then stops in mid-sentence, he grows concerned. "It's alright you don't have to speak about it." he says to her quickly. But as she states that she paid for it. Blinking for a moment about there being ways to nullify abilities, he nods his head. "Well I've not run into anything like that before, but if you know that there are things that can take away our abilities, then it's good to know and honestly I would still be able to function even without my reflexes heightend, I would be thrown up a bit, but should still be able to function." Granted he didn't like the fact that his reflexes would be slowed. He shakes his head a little bit. When she finally relaxes and enjoys her breakfast, he blinks when she tells him she's only been training for a few years. Jynn blinks a few times, "Yeah right, you moved as if you lived in training all your life Psylocke."
"And in another sense, I have."
The impact of that enigmatic reply is marred slightly by a mouthful of pancake in-progress, the swallowing preceding a tip of the head and a teasing smile. Dispensing with fork and plate, now with finality, Psylocke sits back as she again pushes at her messy hair, needlessly retucking a few strands behind her right ear. She'll keep a finger raised as she enjoys the immediate reaction to that, before quite abruptly moving to stand, her impressive form stretching beneath Jynn's borrowed shirt - a confident series of motions that belie the fact she's not alone.
"I think what matters is that we get along, and complement one another on the field, don't you?" Not touched by the same clipped formality of her previous speech, she remains much more playful, almost possessing the air of a satisfied cat - albeit a good deal less selfish than the standard implies. "I need to be alone for a while, to check some things and... well, to clean up," Wrinkling her nose as she says that, she pulls at the lower hem of her shirt, indicating that she should probably put on something more appropriate as well. "If I'm going to teach, I need some time to prepare, but perhaps we could warm up a little, later on? Once we know what we're capable of as opponents, it should be easier to see where to begin..."
Quirking a brow at that cryptic statement. Jynn leans back into the couch a bit sitting sideways to look more directly at Betsy. Seeing that teasing smile of hers as he looks at her, he shakes his head a little bit as she goes about finishing her food and now moving around her messy maine of hair on her head. But it's when she stands that really gets his attention as she stretches beneath the shirt he lets her use to sleep in. The way she moves, he wonders if she cares he is looking at her, btu then again she wouldn't do it if she did would she?
"I'm pretty sure we will get along just fine Psylocke." he grins as he looks at her. Enjoying the fact that she is being playful, nodding his head when told she needs to be alone for a bit. "Well I will wash the dishes and we can do the training here, it's big enough. You can relax in my room and go get a shower if you want. I have clean towels in the bathroom and you can wear whatever I have in my room." He stands up and takes the plates and glasses into the kitchen but comes back quickly.
Betsy Braddock has at times been quite shameless; though oftentimes playing the coquette to maintain the distance she craves, or in the same underlying sense of fun. In her renewed form she finds a liberation in possessing the physical talents she's long desired, finding figurative 'wings' of a sort in not only her appearance but the way she moves, the way her body responds. Though, while inarguably also sterner and colder on the whole, she's still the same woman within... and positive attention can be both welcome and enjoyable.
She doesn't press the issue beyond a certain level of comfort, however. Relaxing her posture, her hands find her hips and she offers a friendly nod to Jynn, accepting the offer and the invitation. "Sounds like a plan," she murmurs, suppressing a small yawn as her body goes through the very final stages of waking up, full of breakfast and ready for the day. Ready for action. Watching Jynn leave the room, she takes one last glance about...
And when he returns, she's already gone. A few moments later the hiss of the shower running echoes through from the bathroom.
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