fireincarnate | Video | Backdated to 30th

Video | Backdated to 30th | Private To Phillip

[She's nervous.

There's no getting around it, really. This is her first Inmate since Jason, and while that went well - she was a different person, then. It feels like a lifetime ago.

But it doesn't show in her smile. (She's grateful, today, that Phoenix doesn't need to sleep; the shadows of her nightmares don't hang beneath her eyes.]

Hey, Phillip. I'm Jean.

[She gestures to the file on her desk.]

I wanted to talk to you, before I read this. I won't do it at all, if you don't want me to.

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[Jean changes, before leaving, into something suitable for a wild tropical preserve; a light tank top, loose capris, sturdy hiking boots, and a faded bucket hat. A waterproof backpack of supplies she won't need but Phillip might. His file is tucked deep inside.

She doesn't need to dress for warmth either, not any more, but - she still remembers the first time she wore this outfit, dashing into an African wilderness to save Charles. That mission went well; hopefully this does, too.

She still gets there the same time he does, though, because why take the steps when you can fly over them?]

Hey. Thanks for coming.

Edited 2015-02-08 21:47 (UTC)

[He gives a cursory once-over, but gives no comment to her outfit or anything about this. It's fairly obvious that although he's doing this for her, he's not all that interested in this taking or lasting for long. Philip approaches this as he does most things: just get it over and done with.]

Mmhm.

[He's not really any more for conversation in-person than he is over the communicator.]

[She expected that, and doesn't let it dent her warm enthusiasm.]

I've got water and snacks. [The words are light, as she opens the hatch and steps inside. She presses the intercom button, murmuring "Savage Land, please", before looking back at Phillip.]

Stick close to me, okay? No one can die in here, but still.

[He wouldn't be all that concerned if they could die in there in the first place. He's already died once since his arrival here and he recovered quickly enough that he's not all that bothered by the idea of dying again.]

I won't go wandering off on my own.

[He gestures for her to go on ahead.]

[She's trying not to pry, but that blasé reaction is so achingly clear.

She doesn't let herself react, doesn't let her smile waver as she leads him into the trees.]

We'd be in the Antarctica right now, if this were real.

[What are you talking about, Jean? He is an exemplar for healthy coping, okay. It's a wonder he's even an inmate, GOSH.]

Seems a bit out of place for the Antarctica.

[But he'll take her word for it.]

[Truly, she hasn't seen healthier coping skills since Wolverine.]

I know, right? It's right out of the Triassic period, too. No one really knows how it happened. Probably aliens or mad scientists. [Yeah, that's how her life generally goes.]

[If he were a child, he'd probably be losing his mind about all this. Hell, even maybe a year or two ago he'd be more fascinated. But he's generally too jaded to take this in and see it as a wonder. He's watched too many good things get destroyed in his world to muster up the energy to even ask why she'd pick a place like this.]

Seems to be as good an explanation as any.

[Throwing people into wonder and absurdity is a good way to test them, to figure out who they are. She's not surprised that his reaction is mild, detached - but it's sad to see, all the same.

It goes on her list. Make him excited about something again.

She pushed onward through the foliage - it's as huge as everything else, and strikingly green.]

I think there's a clearing up ahead, but I never really took a guided tour. I was busy getting kidnapped.

[That doesn't exactly inspire confidence in him to hear and that much is plain in his tone.]

That happen often?

[She glances back with a wry smile, gaze wistful.] Back when we were a bunch of teenagers, yeah. I always got out of it, though.

[She doesn't lose quite as many points with that. Teenagers have a tendency to be in over their heads. It's not necessarily due to a lack of skill, but it's certainly a lack of experience and foresight. Even worse, they have a blind spot to their own shortcomings.]

[One of the many reasons he bristles every time he comes across a teenage warden. He can't read their minds, but there's enough in their tone and body language to suggest they believe themselves to know best. Really, no matter what they've seen or lived through, they don't know shit. They're still just kids.]

Fortunate for you, then.

Yeah. [Her voice is softer, as she turns her head back into the sun.] We got lucky a lot.

I'm not saying we weren't competent, but we were still kids. [All the training in the world couldn't grant them experience. They had to earn that, and close calls came with the deal.]

[Others might take that as an opportunity to ask about more, or at the very least extend some kind of apology or acknowledgement of a tough time growing up. Philip does neither of these things. He has no interest in getting to know Jean very well and even less to hold her hand over things in the past.]

[He only agrees lightly with,] You were.

[She suppresses a sigh, as she pushes the last of the tres.]

There we are.

[There's no grass, just a spread of fern and moss. Jean pulls off her backpack, pulls out a thick blanket, and throws it down.

It really shouldn't land so straight, stretching out over the grass all by itself.]

[Sorry, gurl. The Admiral screwed you over with one helluva stubborn inmate with a...uh...glimmering personality and very chatty. Obviously. The narration coughs nervously.]

[Philip says nothing about the blanket, although he notices it. He only raises a silent eyebrow, finding it odd if not particularly noteworthy. He might be a gentleman for letting her sit first, but it's more for his benefit than hers. He sits about as far away from her as possible, slightly turned away from her, but not enough so that his back is to her in any capacity. No matter how little he wants to talk with her or how much he'd prefer this move along, he doesn't trust her enough to turn his back on her. In fact, where he sits keeps her on his left rather than his right.]

[He sure is charming the pants off her!!

Jean can tell what he's doing, as she rummages through her pack, but she doesn't take the wariness personally. He has no reason at all to trust her, not yet.]

Do you like turkey? [She glances up, smirking a bit.] Or would that be opening up too much?

[Whoa, keep your pants on, Jean. Jeez!!!]

[He won't even merit that second question any direct comment, but she does get a very flat look and response for her trouble.]

I'm not particularly hungry.

[SO MAYBE IT WOULD!!!]

[No, okay, that's ridiculous. But he is still a little ridiculous in his stubbornness in not taking anything from anyone regardless of how unimportant it might be to the other person (because food actually is incredibly important where he's from; it's not something you just offer to a stranger), or if he even wants it. He's keeping his debt to the people here as low as possible.]

[S I G H.

And she really does let herself sigh this time, as she pulls the baggie out. (It's got little bird designs etched into the thin plastic. Sometimes a cosmic-level telekinetic gets bored, okay.)]

Okay, I'll just eat by myself. [RUDE, PHILIP.]

For the record, if I offer to save you from rampaging velociraptors, will you refuse? [The words are light, wry, but there's an aching sort of heaviness behind them.]

[Philip's look towards her is cold and unimpressed. He answers her quick and without hesitation,]

Don't waste my time, Jean.

[His patience for any of this is beginning to wear a little thin.]

[Her words are just as sharp, as she sets up her plate.] I'm not the one wasting time.

You're stuck here, Philip. With me, and in general. You've got to make the most of it.

[For the first time, he smiles. But it's entirely insincere, scathing and judgmental. It's a flash of teeth more akin to a snarling animal than anything else. It's always an illusion of control from the wardens, he's found. They try to present inmate's with choice, but they're still unsurprisingly quick to tell them what they ought to do.]

And I suppose according to you, that would be what exactly? Talking about things with you? I'm not interested in a conversation.

Tough crap. [It's said almost lightly, as she takes a bit of her - very good, thank you very much - sandwich.] I'm not going to force you into anything, but the only person who can get you out of here is you. That means telling me how I can help you, and letting me do it.

Why is it all of you assume I want any help?

[Because it's not just limited to the wardens. There are a few inmates as well who try and take steps to ingratiate themselves to him. But all of it, no matter who or where it comes from? Aggravates him.]

Well, we could just leave you alone, and you could spend the rest of your life here, until you fade and die. [It's harsh, and it hurts to say, but she's clearly not getting anywhere with a softer approach.

She can do tough love.]

But that sounds an awful lot like giving up, and you don't really strike me as the type.

Video | Backdated to 30th | Private To Phillip

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