PATIENT FILE #040: MUNROE, ORORO.
There is something that RANKLES about the man suddenly sitting across from her. It’s not simply the fact that he invites HIMSELF to sit with her, even with explaining he saw her ALONE. He doesn’t wait for an ANSWER and that is only mildly irritating. This is more than mere ANNOYANCE. This is the PRICKLE that prefets DANGER, the unconscious way that hairs raise on ARMS. He’s not particular intimidating PHYSICALLY; she has made larger men fall. Ororo also recognizes, however, that danger has VARIETY. Those who are not strong in BODY tend to be strong in MIND and that is just as, if not more, LETHAL.
The TEMPEST dabs at her red-painted lips with the cloth napkin and resolves to ZAP HIM if he does anything funny. She finds comfort in the fact she is almost DONE and decides she will have DESSERT back home.
“Manners suddenly FOUND are manners all the SAME.” The napkin is placed down and she reaches out to take his hand, though she doesn’t want to. She would hate to be HYPOCRITICAL. “I am ORORO.” And she offers no more than that. The more information she gives anyone, the more they have to use AGAINST her. It’s a principle that she keeps in mind in situations like THESE, where she feels UNEASY.
She returns to her meal, glancing up at him as he speaks. Usually when she has a dinner companion, they are EATING as well. Instead, she feels she is being SCRUTINIZED. Doctors can be just as INVASIZE as telepaths and the man sitting across from her is a STRANGER with only a name. She IGNORES the attempt at small talk, though the cloud coverage does become a little THICKER. She even has to fight the urge to tell him she had NOT been wondering, as a matter of fact.
Manners. Manners would see her through this.
“And what did you see in my BODY LANGUAGE? I have spent the day with wide eyes, scribbling NOTES and taking PICTURES. Is that AWE somehow lingering?”
Dr. Crane itches to leave here and go somewhere more private. He doesn’t need to spend long talking to the woman across from him to know that she’s THE ONE. Not in the romantic sense, of course. No, he doesn’t believe in such scenarios concocted by today’s media. What he does believe in, however, is helping others to see their full potential. He has no way of knowing if Ororo knows what hers is, but he can practically feel the power she wields radiating off of her — whether that be literally or metaphorically. His cerulean eyes follow her movements as she dabs gingerly at her lips. Even that is precise and he notes that she doesn’t smudge her makeup even the tiniest bit.
Her precision is fascinating
— and he nearly gets TRIGGER happy.
He clears his throat, loosening the tie around his neck as he does, and closes his other hand in a fist just to feel the contraption hidden beneath his sleeve. It brings him back to reality and calms him. He can’t wait to use his toxin on her, can’t wait to find out all about her fears, but he can’t very well do that if she runs for the hills. And he’ll be DAMNED if he misses out on this opportunity. Her words bring him back to the present and he can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. She strikes him as a woman out of time and, for once in his life, he doesn’t know what to make of his own observation.
“Ororo?” he repeats, quirking a brow as if he hasn’t said this name over and over in his head a million times. “That’s an interesting name. Where are you from?”
She doesn’t tell him her full name which he makes another mental note of, but he isn’t surprised. Most people aren’t willing to reveal their ENTIRE life history to a stranger, no matter how nice they may seem. Jonathan Crane is a shining example of the quote you can’t trust anyone but yourself. When she questions her body language, he can’t help but hear the tint of sarcasm coating her words. In truth, those things definitely make her seem like a tourist but they don’t mean anything. Not to him. He sees beyond that. Hell, he can practically see through her at this point.
“Not exactly.” he replies, leaning forward yet keeping his hands locked in his lap beneath the table separating them. “It’s something DEEPER than that, something not so clear. It’s kinda like how everyone has fears, but they’re not outwardly obvious all the time.” he explains.
He leans back just enough to move his hands from his lap to on top of the table before he resumes his previous position again. “It has NOTHING to do with the awe you feel at your surroundings and everything to do with your reservations. It’s a new city with new people and new dangers. You let me sit down even though I knew you didn’t really want me to. And that’s because, even subconsciously, you don’t wanna disrespect people in their home. You don’t wanna stick out like a sore thumb, you wanna BLEND in so ... you watch. And you watch. And you adapt. Because everything is new and everything ... is terrifying.” he says as he raises his hand and presses his middle finger down against the button at his wrist, spraying a mist of his toxin in her face.
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