Facing the Music
CONTINUED FROM HERE.
Was there really anything better than a warm shower? Soap suds clinging to his water stained skin as his hands rubbed and massaged away the dull aches. Back in the infirmary, they had been gentle with cleaning his grazes and stitching the rather nasty gash at the back of his thigh. It had been his own fault, he’d taken an extra step too far back and found himself falling arse over tit down some banking.
The results from his blood test had come back clear, so that had been a bit of good news. Though his blood alcohol level was worryingly high.
Now running his palm over his chin, Scott paused noting how it felt odd to no longer feel the scratchy unkept beard that had acted as a reminder to how long he’d been away from any kind of civilisation. Any longer he’d have been tempted to try and braid the bloody thing. His hair could wait for another day or two. In all honesty, it just felt good to be clean.
–
The World had changed though he doubted people, particularly his former X-men had changed their opinion of him, nor did he expect them too. Despite all this, he was willing to do his part. He’d become a dab hand at building and reinforcing barricades and no doubt those skills mixed with his engineering abilities would prove valuable. It was just his damn anxiety holding him back from leaving his room.
“Okay, Summers…” taking a deep breath Scott placed his hand on the door handle “time to face the music.”
Ororo was about to knock when the door opened, swinging away from her just before her knuckles connected with the wood. There was a moment of surprise, while she had come to see him, this abrupt change to the sequence she was expecting -- she knocks on the door, a moment passes where she finishes preparing, and he opens the door -- meant she needed half a second to recalibrate.
She recovered with only a moment’s look of surprise, and smiled, “It’s been a long time, Scott. I’m so glad you made it.” The statement was entirely true, she had often wondered if he was okay, if he was safe wherever he was. While the last time she had seen him had been far from his finest hour, the intervening years were more than enough to make her understand that much of it was not his fault.
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