@mrsebastiano941 mi ha taggata nel gioco delle serie tv, e lo ringrazio per questo. Come prima serie, scelgo Scrubs. Ho letteralmente adorato questo telefilm, sia per i personaggi iconici, sia per la crescita e l'evoluzione che viene compiuta durante tutta la storia. E poi c'è il Dottor Cox.. ho detto tutto. #scrubs #serietv #telefilm #dottorcox #jdorian #cult https://www.instagram.com/p/BpozAAqH6B7/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ksi4okggrpzj
I’m sorry I’m saying this in an email. I’m not very good at talking to people, especially professors. I’m feeling very sick. I think it might be from my veins, but I’m not sure. I’ve been throwing up, though, and my body hurts, and my vision is blurry, except when I stand up and can’t see at all for a few seconds. I don’t know what that means. It’s also a little hard to breath, but that happens sometimes when I’m nervous, so I don’t know if it’s related or not.
Dinner Conversation | The Stepford Cuckoos & Leech
Tagging: S.P.I.C.E. & Prof. Jimmy Dorian
Location: The X Institute Kitchen; Bedford Hills, NY
Time Frame: Late afternoon, Th. Apr. 9, 2015
General Notes: The six former Morlocks converse
The Cuckoos had been making regular trips to the kitchen during spring break, though regular meals were still offered to the numerous students remaining at the school all week. They weren’t the only ones with nowhere else to go. They were, however, the only ones they knew of who had been studiously avoiding the new staff member. Rumors of his powers had circulated a little, sure. Speculation of what might happen to certain people without their powers was inevitable and a little dull after a time. Even Phoebe wasn’t listening in on them much anymore. Their own hesitation was not the man’s abilities, but his intentions.
The man that had been introduced to the school as Professor Dorian was a man they had known for four years as Leech. A Morlock, so they had thought, with no desire to break ranks with Callisto. His presence had always meant that no one could seriously challenge Callisto; anyone that might have would never have stood a chance without their powers. Even with Sophie at full strength, the five of them couldn’t take their former leader in a fight. Maybe they hadn’t understood his motivations as well as they had always assumed, or maybe something else was at work here. His sudden addition to the school staff had been certainly been something for them to contemplate after most of the Brotherhood’s debris had been cleared away. The suspense of wondering had finally driven them all into too much distraction, which had led them down to the kitchen in force. The sisters made no secret of their presence in their matching t-shirts, rummaging through cabinets or leaning against the countertops to continue their silent debate on the matter. Schedules dictated that he would be here soon enough if they waited.
Jimmy hadn’t really visited the school much since getting to know it and its staff. He spoke in person with Professor X and Scott Summers first, and then branched out to meeting the rest of the current staff over the past year. His choice to learn about and help out at with the school had entirely been his own and he had his reasons, but very few knew what they were. It was refreshing for him and strangely liberating despite the forewarning that other former Morlocks were attending the school as students. He didn’t know how many or who exactly he might see, but there weren’t many reasons for him to get nervous when being around others. For the present, he needed to ready the next meal of the day and take care of preparations for the next day’s breakfast. Having helped out for a few days already, he’d had an idea of the demand preparing meals for roughly one-hundred people, three times per day was; it certainly made him respect Kevin Sydney even more, even if he could only--at most--stand in the same room as the man. But when he entered the kitchen with soups and a sandwich buffet in mind, his steps faltered at the five identical blondes already occupying the space. He hadn’t said anything yet and his powers were consciously hugged close to his body--only affecting those who might touch him--but his dark eyes moved from one sister to the next, confirming that all five were there. Carrying on toward one of the two refrigerators, Jimmy’s low, slightly raspy timbre arose. “So this is where you all ended up?” His eyes were on the fridge, pulling the door open so that he could retrieve the vegetables to chop.
Phoebe was the first to spot his entrance, mentally nudging the others away from their idle tasks. She was almost glad to see him, despite him having the worst powers she could possibly imagine. (None of them fared well when cut off from the hive mind; migraines were a minimum of the symptoms.) No matter the circumstances of their departure from the group, he was familiar. Irma poked her head out of a cupboard, then slowly shut it and took a step back to get out of the way of his work. While they weren’t supposed to be in the kitchen while the staff was working, it was much easier to corner him here rather than getting suspended. So long as they didn’t get in his way he’d have no cause to complain about them now. Their posture was more casual than it usually was around the school, where they still didn’t feel entirely at home. Familiarity also encouraged a bit of bite.
“He doesn’t seem at all pleased to see us,” Celeste observed. “Yes, we’re here. Not dead. Despite what everyone undoubtedly hoped when we took off. Sorry to disappoint and whatever.”
“There aren’t a lot of options available to five homeless mutants,” Sophie said.
“It was this or a life of crime. Telepathic crime, not the old kind,” Esme continued.
Already familiar with the occasional biting responses, Jimmy rolled his eyes while closing the fridge with his foot. “Yeah. I’m bummed as all hell. Damn,” he replied to Celeste, not looking to any of them while his tone was saturated with sarcasm. He rifled through a couple of drawers until he remembered where he could find a cutting board and grabbed some knives from the block on the counter and got going. “Lesser of two evils?” he questioned, going off of how Sophie and Esme responded. The sarcasm was still present in his voice, even though he’d been partially serious about his query. While he wasn’t entirely surprised, coming to the conclusion that they weren’t lingering in the kitchen by coincidence, he wasn’t the most welcoming or patient when met with the opposite so he continued his dicing and slicing, asking the sisters, “So what did you want? You wanna know why I left? Why I’m here of all places? Or what’s for dinner?”
Sophie folded her arms, but made no effort to move from her spot or interfere in his work. “Something like that, yes.”
They had chosen the school as a matter of desperation more than a sincere desire to become part of the student body. Though the Cuckoos weren’t going to pretend that this place was a terrible prison, there were quite a lot of rules to manage. And because they had been forced to come, they were feeling a bit less charitable about it all on principle. They were able to blend in and keep civil tongues with the staff, but that didn’t make them feel as though they truly belonged here. It was just a mask that was easier to put on over time. If he felt so inclined he could end their whole charade with the other students with a few words. He probably didn’t care enough about their existence one way or another to bother; that much had been made abundantly clear by the whole group when they had been left behind.
“To ask why you’re here,” Irma answered promptly.
“We’d never suspected you to shout at her and hit the road or anything of that nature,” Esme said. “Though if you’d like to share the dinner menu we’ll listen to that too.”
“Is this part of a plan or just a lot of bad timing?” Sophie asked.
Jimmy stopped cutting the vegetables long enough to look around the cabinets for a pot to use. He found a colander next and used it to rinse the diced pieces, hearing the sisters’ responses and his shoulders rose and fell by the time Esme said her piece. “Menudo and vegetable soup, with make-your-own-sandwiches, are what’s on the menu tonight,” he said, dumping the newly rinsed vegetables into the pot. He cut up some more, planning to do the same with some peppers and onions before adding in potatoes he’d diced earlier. “Didn’t Xavier tell you and your classmates already? I’m here to help out until Sydney gets back on his feet. After that, I’ll be at their new Suspension Center.” For a moment following, he’d said nothing at all, putting his quiet concentration on his food prep but after rinsing the second batch of vegetables and dumping them into the pot as well, Jimmy finally looked up to the sisters again. “Truth be told, I don’t owe any of you an explanation for why I’m here and I doubt either one would put your shared mind at ease. Here’s what I’ll tell you though... of course I have a plan. I usually do, even before any of you knew me. Do my plans with me being here have anything to do with you? No. Is it ‘a lot of bad timing’? That’s up to you all to decide but if you feel like you need to keep an eye on me to make sure I’m not gonna kidnap one of you and take you back to Callisto as bait or some kinda hostage, then knock yourselves out.” His eyes had gone to each of the five before he lowered the pot into the sink to put some water in it and move the entire thing onto the gas stove. As it clicked before igniting, Jimmy finished, “You don’t need to trust me and I’m not looking to earn it from any of you if you don’t want it. Doesn’t really seem like your style anyway, but if it’s any consolation to you, you’re probably not gonna see much of me after your usual chef’s back to his usual self.”
He was quite intent on his task, seemingly obvious to the stares of the watching Cuckoos around the kitchen. Or perhaps determined to ignore them simply to prove that he could. They were never certain where they stood with people they couldn’t read. It wasn’t just the migraines that came with losing their telepathy that made them so afraid to be without it, they relied on it for a lot. They had been fully telepathic for more than four years now, and ever since they had started peering into the minds of others they had learned not to trust them. Being without that sense felt vulnerable, no matter how normal it was to the rest of the world.
Phoebe glanced around the expansive room. “They have got quite a lot of food here. And it just shows up, delivered, all the time. They don’t even seem to notice it.”
“We never thought it was about us,” Sophie said, a note of mild exasperation in her voice at the runaround. “We know full well none of you give a damn what happens to us so long as we’re not in your way. You just didn’t seem the most likely defector.”
“What on earth would be the point of holding one of us hostage? Do you imagine the school cares if we live or die either?” Irma demanded.
It was harder to hold up masks when they were up against a familiar face. What would be the point of the pretense? They had long since arrived at the conclusion that it didn’t, not really. No matter what anyone there said to the contrary, they didn’t trust anyone not already linked into their collective to care when things went bad. They weren’t getting burned twice over. Even expecting this place to be safe had already proven to be a bad idea.
“We don’t really trust anyone. They can’t disappoint us without expectations,” Celeste said quietly.
“Trust is an exercise for idiots with short life expectancies,” Esme said.
“Do you want us to stay out of your way, pretend we don’t know you?” Sophie asked.
Jimmy almost laughed out loud. He wanted to when his hostage situation was questioned. “Then by your assertion, I guess you’re all a bunch of idiots which would beg the question of how much time you’ve left yourselves.” He rummaged through the spice cabinets near the stove, adding some seasonings into his pot, “Don’t look to me to go defending Xavier against you or agreeing with you on what he thinks or doesn’t think of you all. You’re all plenty hard-headed from what I’ve seen so I’m not gonna waste my breath on that. But the fact is, you had to have exercised some level of trust in this place, coming here just like you did coming underground. You say you don’t have a lot of choices but you do have choices and you made them with a degree of trust that you could be here and not be looked at as criminals or homeless teens, or whatever you’re concerned with being perceived as.” He kept his tone low but matter-of-factly while his head shook a few times, “You clearly do trust people or you’d probably be dead, but hey, silly semantics over ‘trust’, right?” After going back to the fridge to gather broth to add to the vegetable soup, as well as what he needed for the menudo, Jimmy told them, “I don’t really care if you wanna pretend you know me or not. Me having been with the Morlocks isn’t a secret to all of the student body since I didn’t exactly make it a point to stay hidden all the time. And I’m sure the ones around here who do know about that aspect of my past probably aren’t as invested in secrecy like you five seem to be. I hear gossip runs rampant around here, but I would like you to make yourselves scarce of here sooner rather than later since you’re all crowding me a little in here.”
Irma arched a brow, nonplussed at his reaction. “We trust you and them not to poison the food, fine. I guess we need to allow at least that much or we’d end up very hungry.”
Principles didn’t generally stand up to the cold light of day. Pragmatism ultimately had to win out against everything else when survival was the name of the game. Maybe Callisto had taught them something after all. It was all they had really been after here. Did survival count as an expectation? Perhaps that made them hypocrites on both counts. Being in a hive mind could also be an echo chamber reinforcing all of their ideas about the world around them. It would be easier to admit to any number of crimes before they admitted they were ever wrong about something. They’d just keep that detail to themselves before they got more snark from their number one fan here. (What was he a professor of anyhow? They might accept that Doctor Grey actually had the title fair and square, but when had he ever snuck off to earn a degree?)
“Constant lying does help quite a lot,” Sophie said evenly. “We don’t have to trust the other students, we just have to keep our stories straight. If there weren’t so many damned telepaths on the staff we probably would’ve lied to them as well, but it was never an option.”
“The other students don’t care enough about us to gossip about us either,” Celeste said.
“Which is nice,” Irma said. “If the school gave out money it would be even better, but it doesn’t seem to be happening. So we’ll have to settle for staying uninteresting enough to be sure that none of the other students care that we’re still here.”
“As you’re now the teacher, it really is about whether or not you want to have anything to do with us, not the other way around. We’ll get out of your hair. Good evening.”
The carefully selected words and clipped tones had slipped back into place as they prepared to head back out into the world. With a nod from Sophie, the other four began to divert toward the door, leaving her as the final blonde in the kitchen. She gave the kitchen a brief glance, then looked back to Professor Dorian and nodded once before turning to follow her sisters.
Jimmy barked a curt, low laugh, “Good to know that you draw the line at starvation.” His visible focus remained on the produce he’d taken out but he kept on listening to the sisters. Giving another roll of his eyes, he said, “Wow. Well you five are incredible,” not withholding more blatant sarcasm. “Like I said, I don’t care whether you want to pretend to know me or not so no, it isn’t really about me. You’re bent on keeping to yourselves so I doubt there’d be much for any of you to tell without drawing attention to yourselves. And since you wanna believe that everyone here’s without reasons to take any interest in you whatsoever, why should I care what you would or wouldn’t say about me to others?” His power kept his thoughts protected from most, but by no means had he been bluffing about his apathy over his former affiliation to the Morlocks or what the sisters could say about him or who they might say it to. The only person on the grounds who he’d been entirely honest with regarding his past and intentions had been Professor X. Jimmy knew he was a mutant with seemingly unparalleled abilities pertaining to the mind. He didn’t know if the elder man could read his thoughts and couldn’t get a read on his facial expressions when trying out a few lies. So he was entirely honest about his eventful past--his time in Spokane following his military service, attending school on the other side of the country. His mutant gang ties in Washington and encounter with the X-Men that led to his ties to the Morlocks and loyalty to Callisto, all under pretense, albeit difficult to pretend at times. And now he was here, watching four slender backs retreating from the kitchen. They cleared out of the room and Jimmy looked up in time to catch Sophie’s departure nod to which he gave a single wave with his knife-wielding hand. “Adios, ladies,” he muttered before resuming his culinary duties.
