Think Too Much (Open)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

It was one of those days.

It was raining outside, which tended to subconsciously make everyone's thoughts a bit more dismal, which had a cumulative effect on Sean if he let his mental shields slip. They were up tight, because he didn't need to be dragged headfirst into a worse mood.

It didn't help that it was - would have been - Robert Hopkins's birthday today. Sean could hardly believe another year had passed; where had the time gone? He sighed softly and shook his head to himself. He decided that on this occasion, he could have a drink, and so he decided to Irish up his coffee.

As an American of Irish descent, he supposed that he should object to the phrase "Irish up his coffee" because it unfairly depicted the Irish as drunkards. Rather than become offended, he found it to be an apt description, so he used the phrase often when applicable.

With a mug of coffee mixed with a bit of Bailey’s in one hand, he settled on the sofa with a soft noise of contentment; it felt good to get off his feet, and the warmth of his beverage helped.

How old would Robert be now? Ninety-one, was that right? It was difficult to contemplate, when he sat down, that his mentor would be ninety-one years old today if he hadn’t passed on. He also made the decision not to focus on how he was now older than his mentor was when they first met. That was for a later time.

Robert Hopkins, without a doubt, was the most patient person Sean had ever met, or ever would meet. Robert would subject himself to Sean’s uncontrolled powers day in and day out to teach him to rein his mind in, and to protect himself from the world around him. The man had put up with the feedback loops, the migraines, the tears and frustration, and all of the thoughts that a twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen year old boy might have, and the man had never so much as raised his voice.

Sean owed Robert Hopkins his sanity, for without his patient tutelage, he had to assume he’d have been lobotomized eventually, and he shivered inwardly at the thought. Thankfully psychiatry had come a long way since then. There was no need to cut away parts of people’s brains.

Not that he’d never...

Well, when he altered someone’s memories, it was done for the purpose of good, and nobody had ever been left a vegetable. He could thank Robert for that precision as well.

His thoughts were all over today, it seemed. Thankfully, he didn’t have any appointments until later this afternoon, so he could collect himself. And have his drink.

He held his coffee mug up in a toast to himself and said, “Here’s to you, Robert.”

[Anya Vasiliev]

Anya had never had such pleasure as to Irish up her coffee. She needed every last pinnacle of wit to deal with her classes, especially when they decided it would be an excellent time to levitate desks and send them crashing into each other. Temper frayed, she'd barked at the students to stay behind and write an essay each on why powers are not play toys, and why desks are meant for writing on. On top of that, to show the guilty parties a lesson, she had made sure they did not have desks to write on, just to really drive the lesson home.

When she opened the staffroom door, she was surprised to see Sean there. She'd often seen him in passing, normally when she was marching back and forth to sort out students, but she'd never had the pleasure of his conversation. Still, she thought this opportunity golden, and a welcome distraction from her next class, so she entered comfortably, and instantly sunk into a chair. Flopping open her bag, she revealed a tupperware box full of home made cookies, and offered one out to Sean with a smile.

"A penny for them." She said softly, taking a cookie and breaking it up into smaller pieces, popping one into her mouth. "Or, by the look on your face, I'd say at least a dollar." The words were warm, and kind sounding, as though she was trying to reassure Sean of something. The woman seemed to have a knack for knowing when to be gentle with people, and this seemed to be the very situation she was in. She herself, was feeling slightly frayed from her students, and revelled in the quiet of the staffroom, where it was just she and Sean.

Her eyes fell on the coffee machine, then back to her lap, where fragments of broken cookie lay. She could have done with the coffee, yes, but the very thought of drinking it, when she had such high tastes for the damn stuff, was abhorant. Instead she rose and poured herself a simple glass of water and sipped it, looking at Sean over the rim appraisingly.

Anya had heard the name Robert as she had entered, and scanned her memory lazily to try and think where she had heard it before. It could have been a pupil or a previous teacher at the Institute, she supposed. Her own tutor had been a little softer than she, much more tolerant of mistakes and other teenage mishaps, less heavy handed. Still, everyone in the Institute knew Anya Vasiliev produced results, and she intended to keep that reputation up.

"It's a terrible day today." She added, looking out of the window with a hint of displeasure. "I can't decide if one of the Weather Control students is having a bad day or whether the sky simply feels like bucketting on us." Either way, rain wasn't her favourite thing. Anya liked bright sunny skies, or thick blankets of snow. Nothing in between.

She looked down at the water in her glass and seemed to stare straight through it. Dismal thoughts brought by the rain indeed.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had just had a sip of his coffee post-toast, and the warmth spread through him from the beverage. He should do this more often, although truly, he knew better. It wouldn’t do for a staff member to drink frequently on duty, and it was already bad enough that he kept his celebratory bottle in his desk, even if it was locked away from accidental discovery.

Then the very proper Miss Anya Vasiliev entered the staff lounge and sat herself down. They’d never had a real conversation, mostly seeing one another only in passing. However, he was well-aware of her reputation as a no-nonsense instructor, which was precisely what some of the students needed. Particularly some of the students that he had to deal with on a daily or weekly basis; some children benefitted from both the carrot and the stick, in different settings, and Anya was known to play the role of stick quite well. Which could be counterintuitive considering her appearance. Or her hobbies, so it seemed, as she offered him a cookie. He smiled in gratitude and helped himself to one. “Thank you. These look delicious.” He had a weakness for baked goods, which was doubtlessly the cause of his growing paunch.

He took a bite, finding it just as delicious as it had looked and smelled; he would have to be careful with the temptation to have another, lest his blood sugar peak and crash in less than an hour.

“It’s my mentor’s birthday,” Sean informed her, when she asked. That was primarily what was on his mind, beyond the weather and the events of the day. “It makes me a tad nostalgic, I suppose. Given how long ago it was that I’d have had a mentor.”

His mind was a flutter with memories. Such as the first time he’d come into this room; he’d been thirteen, and his training session had been particularly awful. He had spent been nearly paralyzed with pain and nausea, and Robert had told him not to worry about his afternoon classes, or his math test, and instead had brought him here and made him a cup of ginger tea to help calm his nerves and settle his stomach. He missed that man more than words could say; he’d loved him like he was an uncle, and in some ways, he pitied the children who had never experienced his tutelage.

But the conversation turned to the weather, as it must; the miserable conditions were the elephant in the room, so to speak. “If it’s a student, the rain should stop after his training session. If it’s just nature...well, we can hope it won’t flood.” Sean wouldn’t be particularly happy to have to spend the night here because of flood conditions on the roads.

[Anya Vasiliev]

Anya listened quietly as Sean spoke, and smiled politely at the compliment. "The problem with living alone is I always seem to bake more than I actually eat." Staring ruefully at the masses of cookies in the tub, she shook her head. When she was stressed, she baked, finding the rhythmic stirring and simple lists of things to do relaxing. There was no surprise in baking, if you followed the recipe, and the end results left you feeling proud.

"Your mentor? Well, I'm sure seeing you turned out as well as you have is a pleasent birthday present for him." Anya could just about imagine a young Sean, much as she remembered her own wide eyed youth, running around the corridors and finding her own power fascinating. "I remember my mentor fondly. She had gentle methods, but then, I actually paid attention." Setting her water down with a clunk, she frowned.

Whilst Anya did have students she was fond of, there were so many who just couldn't be bothered to put the effort in to control themselves. She'd had many many serious conversations with those slackers, and gotten quite irate with these people. How could they be put back into society with so much recklessness? Why couldn't they understand they weren't super heroes, they were just special, and freaks to those who were scared of change.

These thoughts seemed to play heavily on Anya's expression, as she frowned, eyes narrowed sharply. It was only the smell of Sean's coffee that brought her back from her silent reverie, and she eased herself. "Two students today decided it was time to destroy the classroom furniture." She shook her head, swimming the water in her glass round and round. "I do wonder what these kids are thinking, or perhaps, what they aren't."

"I'm sure it wont flood." She added, finishing the pieces of cookie and looking out the window. "If it does, I'll have to find a tupperware box large enough to fit me in and row myself home." Anya laughed gently, beginning to feel at ease away from the classroom. "Had a busy day?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth and washed it down with his coffee. He’d have to watch himself, because those could easily become addictive. “I’d offer to take some off your hands, but that might be a little forward.”

Sean had known he’d done Robert proud, which had brought some comfort upon his retirement and death, as far as Sean’s coping skills were concerned. By the end of it, they’d had a keen understanding between them, born from having another person in your mind almost daily for the course of several years.

“Mine was that way: patient, gentle, compassionate. He loved working with the hard-luck cases.” Sean smiled in reflection. Most days couldn’t be described as “pleasant,” particularly that first year. But he’d struggled along under Robert’s patience guidance and had become the man he was now: controlled, functional, sitting in a teacher’s lounge eating cookies. Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as he liked to think. “I paid attention too, although I can’t remember anyone not paying attention. Life was different back then.” There were fewer of them, and the country had a different attitude regarding student-teacher relationships.

“I hope nobody was hurt.” Sean frowned slightly at that; furniture damage never improved any situation. Certainly not in an academic setting, although he was a strong believer in the catharsis associated with the occasional bonfire. As for what the students were thinking, that was his job to determine, and occasionally, he had to shrug and admit that he had no concrete answers. “Hormones, angst, and superpowers. Half the time they’re working on instinct, and the other half of the time, all the drama in their lives is magnified through the tunnel-vision that only puberty can provide.”

“If you find one, I’ll help you row in exchange for sharing the container.” Although Sean might be a bit too tall, even to fit into a mystically large Tupperware container.

Then came the question as to his day, and he turned his free hand up in an “ah, well” gesture. “No more than usual. Really, it’s the weather more than anything else.”

[Anya Vasiliev]

"Oh no, by all means take a few off me. I'd be happy to share. If I ate them all I'd struggle to move through the corridors in fear of rolling the students up in my personal expanse." Anya laughed at the image of students stuck to her as she walked along. "If you'd noticed, or if there'd ever been any left, I tend to leave food in here for the others to share, so please don't be overpolite, they're to be eaten, not to rot."

Anya's mentor had not shared quite the same bond. It was respectful, of course, but Anya had always longed to shine far more than she had done, and her constant striving for betterment had often ended in long days of restless sleep, where the mentor, worried for her pupil, had told her to stop pushing quite so hard. In return, she'd been disappointed in herself; sad that she couldn't meet her own expectations.

"I don't understand why people don't have respect for each other, in honesty. I was in awe of my mentors and teachers, and gave them nothing but the utmost respect." Curling a lock of hair around her finger, she shook her head. "If I manage to train a handful of students to the standards I hold, I'll be happy. At this rate, though, I have about 2." Yes, her students who she made special exceptions to. These students could do very little wrong in her eyes, their hard work making her proud.

Anya stood up and put the tub of cookies on the side, then looked over to Sean. "Oh, no particular damage. I should imagine they're regretting acting like idiots though." Oh yes, writing an essay with no desk is never, ever fun. Especially when the essay has to be at least 500 words long. "I'd like to hope I can slowly make these teens realise their true potential." One of Anya's greatest desires was to have a fantasticly talented student rise up from her teaching. She had her eye on a few teens that seemed to have potential, but they seemed to few in the school these days.

"Ah well, I'm sure things will sort themselves out. It's never worth putting too much worry in the future." Eyeing the weather outside, Anya managed a smile. "I think I see sunshine peeping through the clouds, so perhaps we wont need to find that giant tupperware tub after all?"

"It's funny how the weather affects us all." She began to think of how much her spirits were lifted when the snows came. "I'm one for cold weather. It reminds me of Russia."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean gave into his impulse and took another cookie. At her explanation, he smiled. “Ah, so you’re the one I have to thank for the baked goods. I’d assumed that the home economics class was going exceptionally well recently.” He would have to remember that for the future; he could always find a break in the day to sneak a cookie or two.

In some ways, it was a mystery, what made these students misbehave when compared to their memories. Then again, he’d been here for long enough – on and off over forty years and straight through for the past two – to have seen the patterns develop. “Society changed and became crasser and less polite. We’ve put less of an emphasis on education, which I’m sure hasn’t helped the situation. And then, of course, there’s the media’s obsession with the ‘meta-human threat.’ We have a population of children who are being told that they’re a force to be reckoned with, and they’re already at an age where they’re convinced they’re invincible and that they know everything. I suppose with those external influences, I might have been a handful too.” Then again, perhaps not. He’d been frightened of his power when it first manifested, and he began training, and then he’d latched onto his mentor. Sean was very much a product of his time, and thus he had difficulty imagining himself at that age in the modern world.

“And which two might these be? Tell me about them.” He liked to be plugged in to student achievement and behavioral matters; that was part of his job, after all.

“I’m sure they are.” Sean knew of Anya’s reputation, and he had no doubt that the students who had misbehaved were quick regretting that. Hopefully, it would be enough to deter them in the future. Like the rest of the staff, he preferred a day without outbursts and disciplinary problems. In fact, the most perfect workdays were those during which he wasn’t needed at all, and he didn’t think that due to laziness.

At her mention of sunshine, he turned his head towards the window. Rain still came down hard against the window, but there it was, a slight break in the clouds and a bit of light peeking through. Good. Already, that would make the day better. He turned back to face her. “So there is. We’ll hope we won’t need to row home then. Particularly since I don’t know where we’d find a large enough container on short notice.”

Sean viewed weather affecting them as proof of evolution and of humanity’s general connection to the environment. He wasn’t what one could call an environmentalist, and he certainly wasn’t “spiritual” – whatever that meant. But facts were facts; women’s menstrual cycles synched to the lunar cycle and to one another, full moon days and nights made people act bizarrely, and rain and darkness depressed people. “I like warm spring days and sunshine, but I also don’t like being cooped up in my office day in and day out, and like an excuse to be outside.” He also loved still water, so he could take the boat out. “Have you ever gone sailing?”

[Anya Vasiliev]

Anya always seemed to have at least one tub of baked goods with her at all times. It was as though all she ever did was bake, though sometimes that really was all she did. The stress and frustration she felt with some students drove her straight to the mixing bowls, and in the chaos, she found order. "From what I'd heard, home economics hasn't been going exactly swimmingly of late. I heard about bags of flour mysteriously upturning on people's heads..."

Anya had never been a handful in her entire life (aside from in arguments, but that's quite the different story). She had always done as her parents asked, and worked as hard as possible to excel in whatever she did. This new wave of human behaviour concerned her much more than any silly threat from anti-meta protests. "It is a shame society hasn't the time to be polite. It will look back in a few years time and realise that manners never, ever hurt." Settling back down in the chair once more, Anya flipped open a file of her students and thumbed through it. "Saying that, I can count the amount of thank you's I have ever recieved from a student on both hands. That disappoints me more gravely than any lack of effort in class." Her hands stroked the filofax in her lap almost longingly, as though she may be imagining her beloved cat sat in it's place.

"Well, Miss. Winters is doing particularly well in my classes. So young and she's already conquered some of the worst parts of having super speed. I'm very impressed with her, I see her practicing every lunchtime. And Master Jacques too. His ability to manipulate ice is coming on leaps and bounds." Anya looked proud. Any student that made an effort was someone worth spending more time on, and listening to.

Anya's reputation, indeed, ran far before her. She'd heard the groans of the first year students when they realised Miss Vasiliev was on their timetable sheet, and caught more than one person trying to tuck in with Chase instead. Was she really quite so much of a big bad wolf? "I had best check on them in a little while. I'd hate to see more desk vandalism." Indeed, Anya had tried ever so hard not to burden the councilling staff with any problem students. It was rare for her not to find a way to cope with it herself, yet, once or twice, when an attitude problem became too much, she would bark at the offending lout to move their backside off to see someone.

"Sailing?" Anya's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Once. When I was much, much younger, my father took me out on a yaght and we had a small lunch on the lake, but I was 5, and I can hardly remember it." It was a lovely day, if her memory could stretch so far. A light breeze and the smell of her father's aftershave, as they bobbed on the lake, hearing nothing but water and birdsong. "Are you a sailor then, Sean?" She asked with a smile, genuinely interested. She found others hobbies so fascinating, especially since she hadn't had the time to ski for a very long time.

"I personally did a lot of winter sports. Since the snow has melted and spring has arrived, I can't skate or ski, but I am tempted to pick up sailing, if only for the nostalgia and fresh air." Anya, too, liked an excuse to be outside. In the summer she liked to teach out on the fields to give her students fresh air, and a little more space to use their powers. Her mood was often much better on those days, even the lazier students getting less of a hard time.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

That was certainly more in line with how home economics usually went; most of the students resented having to take the class, and the rest of them were easily tempted by fire, sharp objects, and various liquids and powders. Eruptions abounded, and Sean could say beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn’t envy the instructor with the misfortune of teaching that class.

He nodded in agreement with the sentiment about society’s lack of manners. It certainly was a shame, over all. Of the few things he missed about his childhood, that topped the list, individual people he missed excluded. “We can hope that there will be a great manners shift in a few years, but I’m not so sure. On that front, things have gotten steadily worse rather than better.” Case in point, the 1980s, the 1990s, the 2000s...There were times when he believed that general etiquette and politeness were gone for good.

And then with how little gratitude she received; that truly was a shame. His job was different; he taught only older students in an elective course, so they already wanted to be there. Beyond that, there was a psychological effect that the general population respected professionals, particularly medical professionals, and so most of the people who saw him in his psychiatric capacity thanked him for the help. Rudeness was the exception, rather than the rule. Genuinely, he said, “I’m sorry to hear that. It doesn’t take much to be grateful.”

He settled in to listen to her descriptions of her two “prized” pupils, and he nodded in response. Both of them sounded as though they were having true progress. Taking another bite of cookie and washing it down with his coffee, he said, “That must be something to see: powers that produce that way.” He was too old for power envy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be...fascinated by those powers which differed so greatly from his own. "

He agreed with her assessment about checking on the students; they did need to be reminded, occasionally, that they were under supervision. “That’s probably the best course of action.”

Sean nodded, smiling softly at the mere thought of getting out on the water again. “As a hobby. I have a friend, and he and I go out every summer on the boat. It’s so very peaceful out there on the water.”

Now winter sports were an area where Sean had never excelled. He knew how to ice skate, and he’d gone skiing a few times, but particularly at his age, both of those activities were off limits, firmly classified as “terrible ideas.” Besides, snow was bad for his joints, and he tried to stay as warm as possible. But if she was interested in taking up sailing... “If you’d like, I could take you out on my boat sometime, and help you get into the practice.”

[Anya Vasiliev]

Anya, likewise, was quite glad not to be teaching anything that involved fire, mess, chemicals or anything of the sort. Even the science teachers had sometimes called her in to block a certain troublemaker's powers for the rest of the lesson and she could hardly say no. Indeed, she dare not decline in fear the whole building would be set on fire by chance.

Gratitude was something Anya had learnt to enjoy when it was offered. Her own private experiences back at home in Russia had taught her to thank god for small mercies, and Sean's relatively similar mind set was refreshing. Not that any teacher particularly likes being sworn at or threatened, but some were far more blinkered than others. Anya promised her classes that if they didn't work hard enough, she would keep them behind for a year. So far she had kept true to her promise. "It's fine." She lied, waving a hand in the air. "You come to expect it from the territory."

"I must admit," Anya began, pushing her filofax back in her bag. "I'm ever so envious of those students who have such talented gifts. Whilst my own skill is useful, it's hardly show stopping. If I were a superhero, I should expect I'd be disappointingly unpopular." It was true, Anya used her powers to help people so regularly, despite the downfalls and exhaustion, to prove she actually HAD a use. Her skills were only needed should another meta kick off. Gone were the days where she was so unfocused she could block power from inanimate objects too.

As for the students back in the classroom... her mind flicked to them thoughtfully. She'd best bide her time, it would be even more amusing to catch them both in the act of doing something equally badly behaved, just to get them more punishment. Some students just HAD to learn the hard way, after all.

"Lakes are lovely to watch." The teacher admitted, looking wistful for the longest time. "Some of my happiest summers were spent by them, fishing for shrimp or trout, and enjoying roasting them on the pebbles on the shoreside." Though Anya mostly resented her homeland for the way it had treated her, and what it reminded her of, she couldn't hide the happy times. Those summer nights, and wintery evenings with her mother telling her stories.

She did, however, look surprised at Sean's offer, eyes wide. "You would really do that?" She asked, breaking into a much brighter smile than before. "I would like that very much, it gives me another method to relax, instead of baking all night." Anya laughed warmly, and shook the hair from her eyes. "I miss sports, especially in the summer when the only skating I can do is at the nearest ice rink. Sailing sounds lovely, really. I'm very happy."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

That rang false; Sean knew that, and he ventured that Anya might know that he knew. “Just because it comes with the territory doesn’t make it fine. Although that also doesn’t change reality.” He stopped and sipped his coffee, which could be seen as a subtle resignation to the way society had changed, but it could equally be read as a subtle way to call attention to their setting. They were in the staff lounge, and if she couldn’t complain about the students here, then truly they had no sanctuary.

“Only among the villains, I would think,” Sean could see how popular she would be among other superheroes, assuming that such people existed. It would be so very simple to stop a villain whose powers had been blocked, and that alone should make her popular. It would also be interesting to read in a comic book, given the popularity of boxing, wrestling, and other pure fighting media. “But I understand the sentiment. What I do tends to make people anywhere from mildly to completely uncomfortable, but it’s also not show stopping.” Not for fighting. He could heal; he could work in intelligence, and he could change a person’s past. But that wasn’t the stuff of comic books. But his admiration for more visually impressive powers aside, he wouldn’t trade his for anything, now that he was comfortable. Speaking to him forty years ago would have earned a different response.

Sean fished sometimes, although he did so according to the rules of catch and release, taking time only to take a photograph as proof. Otherwise, he bought fish at the grocery store.

He nodded to assure her that, yes, he would, and he returned her smile. “I’d be happy to. Although I’ll take you out a couple of times before my friend comes out with us. He’s...” the crown prince of bad ideas and an utterly corruptible influence. “...an acquired taste.”

[Anya Vasiliev]

"You're right." Anya eventually admitted, looking a little guilty for being caught out. "It's disappointing and stressful, and if I'd ever shown such disrespect as a child, I would have gotten a clipped ear." Her parents were mostly gentle people, it was true, far too happy to have a daughter to be cruel to her, but Anya, like all children, had tested the boundaries once or twice, and her mother would give her a little smack on the thigh, or a flick on the ear. Anya learnt not to push boundaries again.

Anya smiled softly at the thought of being a superhero, wearing lycra and a cape, perhaps even having some sort of special transportation, and she couldn't help but let out a little giggle at the image of Sean wearing the same. "I think Memory manipulation is fascinating. I'd almost be tempted to have my own memory manipulated, just to get rid of some of the less pleasent aspects of my past." Indeed, if a magic wand could erase Anya's marriage, she would be a much happier person. That memory lingered like a smudge on an otherwise perfect picture. "Have you ever had to change a great deal of memories?" She asked, changing the subject away from herself.

"I would like to learn. I'm worried if I keep baking as much as I do, I may well increase obesity rates in the staff." Anya laughed warmly, shaking her head. "Is there any special gear I need to buy, I can't quite remember what I wore when I went out with my father." Anya was used to buying sporting gear. Indeed, her wardrobe had a special slot just for her skis, her skates, anything she normally used for sports.

"An acquired taste?" She looked slightly bemused. "I'm sure he's nothing too terrible. Trust me, I spent my childhood around skiing maniacs, I think I'm prepared to take whatever people throw at me!"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean’s parents hadn’t been particularly physical, especially not his mother; discipline had been his father’s domain. And the Jesuits had been gentle for the most part, although he, like all survivors of Catholic school, was familiar with the rapping of knuckles with rulers. “We would never have gotten away with such behavior. I can only imagine what my teachers would have done.”

The image of the two of them as a crime-fighting duo popped into Sean’s head, causing him to smile. It was, on the whole, an absurd image, primarily because he was too old to gallivant around the country fighting villains and righting society’s wrongs. He was also far too old for lycra; not that anyone was right for it, considering the ridiculousness of the material, but his body-type didn’t lend itself well to a young person’s sexual fantasy, spandex and all. Leather in small amounts was negotiable; he had a jacket of which he was quite fond. And he would don a cape for a Halloween party, given the right incentive.

The comment was one he’d heard before, and even when it was said lightly, he had difficulty taking it that way. The power was too real to be trifled with in that regard. Yet, he knew that it was a common enough sentiment; nobody liked having bad memories, which was the reason nobody took photographs of traumatic or depressing events.

And then the question about use of his powers sobered him. All sad, psychiatric tales had that effect. “More than I should have, in any just society.” In a just society, nobody would have to live through what some of his patients had, because nobody would dare perpetrate such heinous acts. Thus there would be no need for him to clean up the mess afterward. “Less, thankfully, now that I’m out of private practice.”

“I have extra life vets, so you don’t have to worry,” he assured her. He owned enough safety gear to take others out with him, and the rest was part and parcel with owning a boat. Beyond that, there wasn’t much that guests had to bring with them, beyond the most basic attire. “Just put a bathing suit on under whatever you wear that day and bring a pair of sunglasses.”

“Oh, he’s not terrible at all.” Truly, Sean couldn’t think that he was, otherwise, they wouldn’t have continued their friendship for this long. And they’d known one another for twice as long as they’d lived without one another at this point. But he knew the less pleasant aspects of the other man’s personality, and Sean knew how he could come across to strangers; how they could come across to onlookers. Combining that with sailing lessons was a terrible idea. “But I wouldn’t want to unleash him on you until after you’ve developed your sea legs.”

[Anya Vasiliev]

Anya had likewise, branched off into thinking of a crime fighting duo, and had a private smile about it. Sure, Sean wasn't exactly a spring chicken anymore, but Anya was sure aging superheroes still wore lycra, though maybe with some sort of chest enhancement device? As a young girl, she hadn't read many comic books, but if she had to pick a superhero, it would have been Jean Grey of the X-Men, she appreciated her power and her intellegence. "Did you ever read comic books?"

Anya noticed that Sean's expression seemed to look troubled, and she shook her head again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I know powers aren't to be taken lightly." Moving over, she touched Sean's hand. "I just... had a less than pleasent experience and I feel it's coloured my judgement towards all people." She smiled sadly, then withdrew, looking out over the playing fields as the rain began to let up.

"I am very sorry." Anya wrung her hands and pressed her skirt to her legs. "I didn't mean the question to come out so uncouth." Tilting her head, she nervously fidgetted with the toggles on her top, looking rather unhappy with herself. "And we were having such a pleasent conversation, my apologies, again."

Anya couldn't deal too well with sad conversations, prefering light hearted, easy ones, where she could keep one steady emotion and not give away any of the cards held so tightly to her chest. It was troubling to see a kind man, not too unlike herself, in such an uncomfortable conversation, but this only made her more determined to steer the conversation back.

"Sunglasses and a bathing suit. Check!" She said warmly. "If you're hungry, I'll even bring some more dreaded tupperware pots. I've often fancied myself making something like a large cake. Perhaps I could make it in the shape of a boat!" She laughed and wrote a quick note in her filofax to find her swimming costume.

Pausing in her note taking, she looked up. "When shall we schedule this grand excursion?" Anya liked to be organised, not the best for spontanious anything. She'd take the day to go sailing with Sean and enjoy herself, and just forget about her cares. "I'll make sure we have a nice time, I think we could both do with a break from the student, hm?" Indeed. Anya needed a glass of wine and a long hot bath, and it wasn't even the afternoon yet.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had to smile at the question. “I grew up during the Silver Age of comic books; everyone read them.” Of course, anyone who tried to bring them to school had them confiscated and usually there was a parent-teacher conference involved. One learned early to either not bring them or found a way to not get caught. He chuckled lightly. “My nephew got into them when he was a kid, and he used to call me ‘Professor S.’ He still reads some now, and he likes to keep me updated. They’re far darker than they were back when I was a kid.” When he was a boy, it had been the introduction of the X-Men and the Avengers, and every month they fought communists and taught heavy-handed lessons about patriotism and tolerance. Nobody died and the good guys always won. Now...well, to begin with, Batman was no longer Adam West and his campy sound effects.

Sean set down his mostly empty coffee cup and raise his hand in a gesture intended to convey that she shouldn’t worry about it. “You didn’t offend me, and you certainly haven’t done anything to spoil the conversation. And I sympathize, truly, I wish that nobody had to have traumatic experiences.” It weighed heavily on him, in fact. “It’s one of the most frustrating and unfortunate aspects of life, both that they occur, and that for all my power – our collective power – they still occur.”

“You’re tempting me with cake,” he warned, which was also a light admission. His sweet tooth was easily tempted, and he would definitely partake if she wanted to bring cake. Or cookies, cupcakes, brownies...it was surefire way to win him over. “You’re welcome to bring anything you want to eat; I’ll gladly help you with that.”

“As soon as the weather is warm enough,” Sean had a generally open schedule, with the exception of a few visits here and there. And since they kept the same hours, he was sure that as soon as it was “sailing” season, they could more easily coordinate their schedules. “I think we both could too. A few hours on open water without having to worry about discipline, hormones, or adolescent angst.”