sixwordstories | (no subject)

Coffee, please. Black.

You got it, sugar. [she already has the pot on hand, and moving the mug at his place right side up she pours it.] there you go, anything else?

The answer to all the world's problems?

[he laughs, though humorless, and then really gets a look at her...]

...Ah. Well, there's a surprise. Suddenly my day looks brighter.

'fraud that's one thing I don't know.

[she's used to complements from customers, and for the most part ignores it.] Oh? Why's that?

You're a mutant, aren't you?

[she glares, gritting her teeth. It's the damn hair--though that's natural. And the gloves. They're a giveaway. But she's not about to let him know that.] I got no idea what you're talkin' about.

[the diner isn't the place for talks like this; a bar was much worse]

[his mind rings calmly in her mind; Please, do not be alarmed. I am like you.]

[She actually gasps, nearly dropping the pot of coffee. The other voices in her head are loud, but he's louder.] Stop. It. [she leans in and lowers her voice.] I could lose my job.

[he seems to laugh; reactions to his abilities are always fun and flattering]

There will surely be more to come, especially for someone with your unique ability set. I'm Charles Xavier.

[extending his hand for a shake]

[she looks at his hand skeptically, still frowning. He doesn't get it. She lives in a cheap-ass motel since she was kicked out. She needs this job. And places ask questions.] Marie. [it says that on her name tag. But he won't get his hand shaken. With her powers? No way.]

...Pleasure.

[hesi...tantly... draws his hand back and tends to his warm cup of barely-touched coffee]

Tell me, Marie, do you like your boss? Would you rather he fire you or belt out Jerry Lee Lewis whilst pretending the service bar is made of black and white teeth?

... [she just looks at him, confused.] the hell? He's a fine boss. I like my job. What are you trying to do? I need this job.

I can find you another. Or you can simply come stay at my mansion with others of your kind. It's a final offer on the dancing shenanigans, though.

I mean, I don't wanna get fired.... But... [she's still just confused.] Mansion? Others? You don't even know me and you're inviting me to go live with you and become part of a collection? Why? That's all I really wanna know. And 'sides, [her tone sobers] you don't want someone like me living around you or anyone else.

So you no longer have to worry about having that job. You're still a girl, Marie. What you need is an education.

[it's more serious and warm; an empathizing smile]

On the contrary, I'd be honored.

I'm eighteen. That makes me a legal adult. [at least, that's what her fake ID says. She's scared and alone and she sure as hell doesn't trust this guy. She has no reason to. She wants to accept, because very few things aren't better than how she's living her life right now. But she hates handouts. And she'll hurt him, or someone.] you really don't want me there. You don't even know what happens when... [a nervous glance. Her boss is in the back and the place is mostly empty.] you don't know what happens when I touch people.

[there's a sobering pause on his hand, and then a light of an epiphany behind his eyes]

[palm up, he offers out his hand]

Show me. Don't hold on long, but just for a moment.

No. I'll hurt you. And I don't want you in my head. [she's far too stubborn for her own good. But she needs this. Even if she won't admit it.]

But I've already...

[a pause]

...They remain? That's interesting. Perhaps it's more psionic than simply physiological.

[she nods.] yeah. They do. Their memories, too.

Hmn. Well, I have nothing to hide, and I can assure you that you will not harm me.

You really can't assure that. [she glances around again and starts taking a glove off.] Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you. [she holds her hand out ginferly]