Think Too Much (Open)

[Anya Vasiliev]

"I read very few comic books, but those my father brought back from trips. I loved it when he brought the X Men home. I would pour over the pages for hours." Anya was often brought back a gift when her father returned home from long business trips. In Russia it had been difficult to get comics at that time, especially english ones, so those bought from America held special wonder for a tiny girl. "Professor S? Mm, it suits you." She laughed warmly and flopped back in her chair. "It seems the age of innocence decreases every year. A seven year old knows more about relationships than I did when I was 18."

Relieved to hear Sean wasn't completely bothered with her blunder into tender territory, she closed her eyes and listened, occasionally nodding her head in quiet agreement. "It is indeed a shame. I could have prevented my own misery, I suppose, but then, couldn't we all, with hindsight?" Opening an eye, it wasn't beyond even an ordinary human to see a sad faraway look in her eye, but just as it was there, it disappeared. "I just try and make sure students don't follow my own mistakes."

"Tempting you with cake? Yes!" Anya laughed brightly, clapping her hands together. "In fact, how about I try out my newest recipe on you?" A dangerous idea, to tempt an aging man with such sweets, perhaps, but Anya had always wanted someone to cook for aside from herself, and the feedback Sean could provide would be invaluable.

And once again, the weather was mentioned. Privately, Anya hoped the weather would brighten and warm as quickly as possible, so she could advance and get out in the fresh air with what she hoped was a new friend. "Indeed, I swear if I was an empath, I'd find this place stifling with the teen drama." She chuckled to herself, then ran a hand through her hair. "In fact, I have a wonderful idea. Excuse me if it seems rude to ask so soon, but would you like to come to my house for lunch on Saturday? I've got so many dusty recipe books and crockery sets that having an afternoon of company would be more than appreciated." Anya enjoyed Sean's company, sure enough, and the idea of having a chat and a lunch with her future sailing companion seemed a bright idea.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean was hardly surprised by that; meta-humans had a connection to the fictional mutants of X-Men. More than that, there was both the escapism of reading comics, combined with the fact that all children can understand concepts of difference and tolerance; that innocence is lost over the years, shaped into something more sinister if not allowed to bloom peacefully. Although he was somewhat curious as to what the then Soviet policy had been about bringing in comics, but not enough to ask at the moment. “His mother and father weren’t as fond of the nickname as I was.”

“The Internet is partially to blame. Most adults don’t know how to set up parental controls, and they don’t supervise their children enough. Television and movies are far more explicit, too. But I wasn’t so naïve at eighteen.” Sean also hadn’t been so aware at seven. At seven, with the exception of his mother and sister, girls were to be avoided, and he hadn’t the faintest idea how children were conceived. All he cared about was playing with his friends and not upsetting any of his authority figures. He shook his head and upturned his hands, “It’s a different world out there.”

“Hindsight is 20/20,” Sean agreed with a nod. If one pushed past rationalizing behaviors and failing memory, one could see with perfect clarity all that had gone wrong in the past. Absent a time machine, nothing could be done to remedy those mistakes; all that could be done was to learn for next time. “I try the same thing, although they don’t listen half the time. They always feel that their situation is different.”

Sean chuckled when she laughed and clapped her hands, amused and at ease with the enthusiasm. He liked trying new recipes; it was one of the few areas in life where he couldn’t be described as cautious. “You’re welcome to try your new recipe on me. But you’ll be responsible if I miss work after falling into a sugar coma.”

“If I were a young empath, I’d feel the same way,” Sean agreed with a nod. It had been bad enough hearing unbridled thoughts, without feeling the emotions as his own. He wouldn’t want to face the day with those teenagers, unless he had control of such an ability.

His expression turned momentarily thoughtful, as he tried to remember what he had on his schedule for the weekend. Ryan would be in Boston next weekend, and he would drive down to meet the boy. Otherwise...he just had some work to catch up on. “It’s not rude at all, and it would be my pleasure.”

[Anya Vasiliev]

Fictional worlds had often inspired Anya. When she taught English, she'd loved talking through the creative styles of authors, the use of a language she herself had only started to learn when she came to Hammel. She remembered her first day clearly, afraid of all of these people speaking a tongue she didn't understand, the biased opinions of some, saying she was a communist spy. Anya hadn't understood these things, sheltered by her father from the Cold War. "Oh? I think it's charming." She remarked, brought back into the room by Sean's comment.

"I remember the first time I ever went on the internet. It terrified me, all this knowledge in one place." She tapped a finger on her chin and sighed gently. "Perhaps I was just wrapped in cotton wool, I don't know. All I know is that teens now see no wonder in the world, it bores them. And that alone is sad." Anya stared at the carpet for the longest time, wondering what she herself would have been like if she was growing up in this age.

Anya knew it wasn't good to live in the past, and in fact, she'd limited herself to thinking about the past only once a day. Any more simply made her become sad and withdrawn. "I guess it's one of those things, without mistakes we learn nothing, yet we are so determined not to make mistakes." She trailed off and pushed her hair behind her ear. "Look at me, getting all philosophical and I'm not even in a lesson." She smiled wistfully, then leant forward.

"Then I will bake you some of my very best food, and especially so on Saturday. Shall we say one? Or would you prefer three?" Anya mostly spent her weekends marking students and baking, so a welcome distraction would be found in Sean's company. "If there's anything you want to do while you're over, please feel free to suggest. I live above the coffee shop in town." Shuffling her feet, she rubbed her ankles then glanced rather witheringly at the clock.

It was time to prod those students again. Rising from her seat, she smiled and offered a hand out to Sean. "It was a pleasure talking with you, but unfortunately, I must sort out those students, in case they've destroyed anything else." Anya shook her head and shouldered her bag. "If they have, then I'm afraid you might get a visit from at least one of them later." Hesitating at the door, Anya looked over her shoulder.

"Thank you for talking with me. It was lovely to talk with you and I feel so much better. You really ARE a good person to de-stress with." Smiling, Anya put her hand on the doorknob and rolled her eyes. "If I don't come back, someone's set me alight."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I did too, at the time,” he said. Of course, the scope of his powers were nowhere near as vast as that of the fictional characters; meta-human powers were not as broad, frightening...or grand as dreamed of in comic books. It was for that reason he found it all the more disheartening, and truly unfair, that the anti-meta groups cited comic books and movies as “possibilities” if meta-humans weren’t tightly regulated. It was no different than when people cited Frankenstein as an argument to cut science funding.

Sean hadn’t been frightened by the Internet, so much as he’d been intrigued by it. He viewed it as a tool, which he used for research, for work, and for entertainment. Although, admittedly, he didn’t like using chat programs a great deal. Like most men, he didn’t particularly like telephone calls, either, although his reasoning differed greatly. Face-to-face conversations allowed him access to his powers to read subtly, while he was robbed of that through other mediums. “It just means we have to try all the harder to help them recapture some f the whimsy left in the world around them. After all, there’s still a great difference between seeing a picture of a mountain and climbing it yourself.”

Sean enjoyed philosophical discussions, particularly with peers. Since he spent most of him time surrounded by children who were asking questions to which he’d already learned the answers, he found the larger discussions with adults all the more worthwhile. “What’s the point of getting up in the morning if you can’t be philosophical from time to time?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said with a large grin. It was so easy to win him over with the promise of food. He then thought through what he could possibly do on Friday night, and then the time it would take to get to the downtown area. Not that he intended to have a wild night, but he wanted to be prepared, as he detested being late or making other people wait for him. “Let’s say three. That way, we’ll both have plenty of time to get ready.”

He took her offered hand in one of his own, although his was far larger. His handshake was gentle, because he still possessed a touch of chivalry. “Hopefully, they haven’t destroyed anything, but just in case, I’ll keep my door open.”

“It was my pleasure,” Sean replied with a smile. The conversation had pushed away the melancholy he’d had before she’d joined him. Moreover, he had something to look forward to this weekend now. And no matter how many times he heard that he had a calming effect on people, or that he was easy to talk to, it always warmed him. “I’ll be sure to call the fire squad if you don’t return. And I’ll be sure to see you on Saturday.”