#ksydney

Tessa was shutting down the computers in her classroom, shaking her head at the ones students left on after she’d given her routine reminder to power them down when the school day ended. Her speed from one monitor to the next hadn’t been with her usual energy, which had been the case throughout the week. Professional as she knew she ought to be, she couldn’t muster it when her computer-like mind held perfect memories of Kevin’s battered state. She had spent every afternoon in the infirmary, sitting beside his bed. Sometimes she would converse and tell him stories of things that happened during the school days. Other times she sat in relative silence, circling her warm, soft fingertips around his cool, dry, bruised knuckles.

Today, she opted for the latter, sitting at his bedside with her iPad in her lap and a free hand’s fingertips gliding back and forth along each one of his digits. The swelling on his face had gone down but the bruises had changed from dark reds with yellowish surroundings to deep purples. Both Warren and Jean already told the rest of the staff that he probably wouldn’t be doing much walking for a while after he awoke, and that they didn’t know when he would awaken. She knew head injuries made it difficult to determine much of anything when the person was comatose. So tonight, she sat cross-legged in the usual chair and let her iPad play some of his favorite music, having added the Stevie Wonder station with her others, for him. The side of her wagged to the drum beat of The Temptations’ “Get Ready” quietly playing while she drafted a brand new configuration for the school’s security system upgrade. Contrary to her dismal mood throughout the week, she found her head making shallow bobs, mimicking the actions of her foot as the song moved from that to the Foundations’ “Build Me Up Buttercup”, to Ray Charles’ “Hit the Road Jack”.

Her iPad wielding fingers slid slowly across the screen to view a blueprint of the entire Xavier property as the song then transitioned to Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me”. She’d actually been familiar with this song, having heard it amongst her dad’s vinyl collection in her teens. She had a vivid recollection of her dad sitting at his work desk in their old London flat, glasses low on the bridge of his nose and a cigarette between his lips. Somehow he managed to keep it there while mouthing and occasionally humming along to the lyrics as he bent over schematics of a new project. Tessa would watch and sway with her entire body, saying nothing. It was the most at peace that she would ever see her father.

The other memory that had gone with the classic song was the afternoon following the first exclusive dinner date she’d had with Kevin. School had ended for the day and her back was to the door, erasing the whiteboard when he’d strolled into her classroom, phone sticking out of his jeans pocket with the speakers facing up and the song playing. She hadn’t heard it at first but as soon as Ben E. King’s voice filled the quiet space, she’d gasped, jumped and dropped her eraser to the floor. She ended up turning right into his arms as they closed around her middle, instantly triggering a smile on her face that refused to be tamed. The greeting soon turned into them slow dancing like middle schoolers--Kevin smiling down at her and Tessa frequently ducking her head down while her cheeks remained hot. He’d pulled bouts of giggles from her effortlessly, each time he pretended to fancify their dancing with impromptu spins and playful leans into her front. Well before the song ended, he’d moved his hand up from the middle of her back to the side of her face; his head bent close and he’d kissed her tenderly. She, in return, rose up on the balls of her boot-clad feet while hooking a hand around the back of his neck. They shared a string of of lip-smacking kisses until her Skittles-flavored chapstick was glossed over his lips as well.

She remembered everything about that day--his surprise appearance; the dancing despite her uncertainty of how he’d be leading her, and how she honestly didn’t care in that moment. How the dancing melted into sweet kisses that eased her mind for once. A moment where she didn’t have to insert logic or have a right answer or hold herself into much confidence. All she had to do and all she wanted to do was enjoy that moment and relish in the excitement that she would never forget it for as long as she lived.

Her memories were rapidly overridden by the sudden shift underneath her fingertips. Her chest rapidly flared up with the gasp, and she jerked her head toward the hospital bed. Her hazel-brown eyes had gone wide, darting from Kevin’s hand to his face. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet but his fingers stirred again, starting with his pinky and ring finger, and soon his forefingers were rising and falling onto the bed sheet, curling ever so slightly until they found what they were looking for--her own fingers.

Tessa nearly dropped the tablet but quickly moved it into her messenger bag before turning a panicked gaze back to Kevin. “Oh my--K...Kevin? Can you hear me?” she asked in a hushed, hurried tone. She could see his eyes moving from behind closed lids--could see the fog within his oxygen mask appear with a little more strength as he hooked his pinky around her ring-adorned middle finger.

“I can...hear you...Tessa,” she heard in her head. Even mentally, he sounded utterly exhausted

Something in her mind told her to speak back to him, telepathically as well, but she thought twice and shook her head, smiling foolishly at herself while the rims of her eyes were pricked with new tears. “Good...good.” As she said this, his head slowly lolled in her direction and he sputtered a few mild coughs.

Tessa leaned forward while taking his hand in hers. She felt him give it a feeble squeeze and while she reached up to brush some chestnut strands from his forehead, she gave a wet sniff.

“You’re crying...Please...don’t. I hate...you being...upset..”

“I-I’ve...just been scared,” she told him with insistent breaths. “I’m glad. I promise, I’m just glad. Relieved. All I’ve wanted this week is for you to wake up.” She bit her lip as though it might keep her tears from spilling over

Kevin wheezed in a deep breath while attempting to lift his free hand to his face, but he’d been tethered to an I.V. “Stupid...mother...fuckin’...”

Tessa lowered her gaze while huffing a tiny giggle. When she raised her eyes again, she told him, “I can hear you, you know.”

“Oh...right…” his own lips tugged up weakly; finally, his eyes slowly fluttered open. It took a moment but his vision came into focus enough for him to clearly make out Tessa’s close face. He moved his hand from her palm to her cheek, each digit pressed to her skin like dead weight.

She raised her hand to hold his there without taking her eyes off of his, even after they fell shut again. “I should go get Warren or Jean but...How...how are you feeling?” she quietly asked.

He cracked a weak smile again as he plainly thought, “Like...I got used as...a hacky sack for some Amazons.”

At first Tessa looked stunned by his answer, but she soon found herself laughing. She tucked her lips in to quell it and pushed the pair back out. “Even in a hospital bed, I don’t know where you think of things like this. You’re looking a better than that. Or what that sounds like.”

His lips rose a fraction more and then the two sat saying nothing for almost a full minute. As he opened his eyes again, he asked, “I’m pretty...banged up though…...How bad is...everything?”

She knew already how bad things had been--the school, their friends, their students, himself. The last thing she wanted to do was bog him down with it all. As she carefully set his hand down on his bedside again, Tessa rose from her seat. “I, um...I’ll go get Warren, okay?”

“Tessa…”

“He’ll wanna know you’re awake--”

“Teresa,” he rasped but winced from pain pressed across his chest from straining his voice. He opted against doing it again for the time being, “Come on...please don’t...treat me like a kid.”

Her lips pursed as she stared at him with saddened eyes. “I’m not...it’s not that. Things are improving greatly. I just...I don’t want to go through it and stress you out. You just woke up and you’re barely awake as it is. Stressing out your mind’s the last thing you need right now. So just--”

Her words were cut off when she felt his hand come over hers again.

“Alright... But..just stay here...Stay here.”

Tessa stared at him for a moment and as she quietly agreed to, she lowered herself back into the chair. At the moment she wasn’t exactly sure where Warren was, but she tried her telepathy, certain that the range would allow her to reach him within the mansion’s walls. Her eyes stayed locked on Kevin as she let her friend know that he was awake. She stayed present in Warren's mind long enough to know that he would be down in a few minutes.

They sat in wordlessness once again, listening to only the music emanating from her iPad as it sat in her bag. She watched the little movements Kevin’s now made: mouth move slightly, his Adam’s apple bob up and down the column of his throat when he swallowed and the occasional flutter of his eyes. Finally, her eyes settled on her hands--their hands--moving together, slow and gentle but intrusive of the others digits.

Kevin was being kept in the loop with the Professor’s telepathic invasion with Mystique, all the while hurrying down from Pembroke. He heard students whimpering and spewing panic as Kurt ushered them quickly through one of the old passageways embedded inconspicuously within the walls of Lykos and MacTaggert Hall. He heard more commotion in passing both floors of the library and even more when he reached the ground floor. Kevin wanted to help but he knew he had a job to do—slow Mystique down and stop her if possible. While he didn’t know all of the fine details to Cerebro, he did know that it was one of a kind and if Magneto succeeded in recreating it on any level, he could ignite a third world war or worse, if such a thing existed.

He got to the door that led down to the wide, chromatic halls for Cerebro and the Danger Room.  His steps grew quiet as the professor informed him, “Be careful, Kevin. She’s already down there.”

“Got it,” he replied while his face grew stony. He thought about Professor X’s physique and mannerism while his own form reduced by two inches. His brunette hairline receded entirely while the planes of his face rippled and smoothed out again seconds later, save the age lines at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. His brows were ashen and less kept than his usual, more groomed brunette pair. He donned a more prominent nose and the lines running from the outside of his nostrils down to the corners of his thin lips were deep. As his body from the neck down became encased in a well-tailored chocolate brown suit, Kevin’s piercing blue eyes became eclipsed by a dark, blue-green pair that tended to change color often.

“Raven,” he spoke, imitating Professor X’s voice deep baritone perfectly.

Mystique, who had been standing in front of Cerebro’s heavy vault-like door turned and froze, momentarily startled by her old friend’s statuesque state. But she recovered almost as quickly and glowered, “Get outta my head, Charles,” and began to face the vault again.

“You know the cost if Erik succeeds in this. Don’t hand him the key to this destruction.”

“That hasn’t worked in the past. It isn’t going to stop me now so quit preaching.”

Kevin clenched his jaws and forced himself to remain in control of his walking pace. “And if he doesn’t make this second Cerebro, you’ll have only hindered us here in helping others like us.”

Mystique’s blue skin rippled as she reformed herself to also look like the Professor. But as she knelt down to access the retinal scanner, Kevin charged at her, transforming himself mid-stride to an exact replica of Logan. He tackled her hard to the floor with his now burly arms locked around her upper arms, but her forearms spread out and she punched her fists hard against his locked fists, causing him to lose his grip. Immediately after, she tucked her chin to her chest, only to rear it back like a mouse trap fresh off the spring. Her head butted directly into his chin and as he groaned and covered the afflicted space, she quickly sprang to her feet while her naked blue form fled back over her from toe to head.

Kevin had yet to reveal his own true form as he rolled onto his feet, trying to ignore the pain that was pulsing across his chin and up his jaw. Instead, he morphed into a mirrored image of her, knowing that her body moved more nimbly than Logan did. His new appearance only aggravated her further as she pursued him but Kevin ducked and applied his own strength to shoved her hard at the shoulders, pinning her against the cold, steely wall. But with her hands free, she’d quickly retaliated by wrapping her arms around his neck. She seemed determined to crush his windpipe and his now yellow eyes had gone wide, but Kevin hadn’t relinquished her from the wall. This time, Mystique was the first to shift forms and took on that of a behemoth Kevin had never seen before . He would have begun losing consciousness had his hand not finally surrendered its grip and he’d morphed that limb only, long enough to wad it into a fist and strike  Mystique across the face.

His hit drew blood and caused her to let him go, and Kevin immediately gasped for air. She hadn’t left him much time to recover, however, and the two had come to blows. Kevin forced himself to focus and went hand-to-hand with her while trying to tap into her mind to anticipate her next move. The two had gone back and forth exchanging blows and shifting appearances until the two ended up in their true forms.

Telepathy hadn’t aided Kevin against Mystique; while he’d gotten several hits against her, her stamina exceeded his enough for her to still be standing while he now required support from the wall.

The anger of being deceived by her former friend, combined with the persistence of Kevin in attempting to stop her gave her the push to keep on fighting, eventually gaining her the upper hand. Her attacks turned impossibly more relentless than before. She made sure Kevin took a foot to the side of his face and later threw her weight into a direct punch to his left eye. The impact caused his head to bounce against the steely wall behind him and he staggered to one side, earning double vision while holding his head. Growing weary again but knowing that she wanted him on the ground, she morphed into Logan to take advantage of the clawed man’s superior height while arresting one of his wrists, relishing  in the cry Kevin omitted throughout the hall. Mystique gave a merciless twist and drove one muscular thigh, hard and fast into the middle of hhis back.

Kevin’s eyes went wide as the air left his lungs. He was certain something in his chest had cracked at the very least as he was slammed face first against the nearby wall again. His wrist ached terribly and his vision had yet to clear from his head being bounced against the wall the first time. The second time, however, was too much for him to hang onto his consciousness. As Mystique finally released his limb and removed the burrowed knee from his back, Kevin felt himself falling but could do nothing to stop it. His throbbing head felt heavy but hollowed out, as did the rest of his body when it collapsed to the floor.

Scott sprinted down the hall, already exhausted from his, Joanna and The Cuckoo sister’s altercation with Blob and  Mist Mistress. He’d been running purely on adrenaline and knew he’d his body would catch up to how he truly felt at some point but for the time being he’d he had to check on his friend. It seemed like all of the Brotherhood had vacated the premises but he hadn’t seen Kevin emerge from the halls beneath the school’s ground floor. He saw the door near the end of the hall sitting open and heard the grunts and groans that unmistakably translated to fighting; the sounds were what sent him bolting through the door and down the stairs.

Standing at the mouth of the hall, he saw Kevin’s crumpled body at the opposite end of the relatively short, T-shaped hall—one way leading to Hanger’s Bay while the other way led to the Danger Room and at its apex stood the large, circular, chrome-colored door that led to a sealed Cerebro. Scott was prompted to make haste again when he saw Kevin crumpled on the floor, unmoving with his back to him. Scott’s ruby-covered eyes quickly darted to Mystique who was mid-transition from appearing like Logan to looking like a kneeling Professor X. Not caring about the setting on his lenses, his hand flew up to just below his temple as he hollered, “It’s over, Mystique!”

She turned in time to be met with a flat, wide, hot beam of red directly to her chest. The blast slammed her flush against Cerebro’s door as she yelped and reverted back to her blue physique.

Scott charged at her, prepared to go hand-to-hand with her  as he said, “They’re all gone! It’s just you and I’ve still got plenty of fight in me.”

Mystique knew her body was exhausted and if she wanted to make it out even more unscathed, she would have to accept defeat and take off. Though fury and betrayal over the abandonment was bubbling in her, outwardly, she smirked, revealing teeth colored with blood, “Count your blessings tonight, Red Eye.” With that, she sprang up, shoved him out of her way and ran, disappearing up the narrow stairs.

Scott waited only a few seconds to make sure that she wasn’t planning to double back before he hurried over to Kevin. “Kevin!” he sternly called out a few times but when he crouched and touched a hand to the other man’s shoulder, he froze in horror. The left side of Kevin’s face was undeniably puffy; his left eye was swollen shut and reddening and blood was smeared across his lips and continued to trickle from the corner of his mouth like a leaky faucet. His right arm was splayed unnaturally on the chrome floor and his wrist was as almost as red as his eye. And his now disheveled chestnut mane was almost covering a knot above his right eyebrow. Scott couldn’t tell where else he was hurt. He knew enough about Mystique to know that she was a good fighter—dangerous enough against most of the students regardless of their experience or excellence in Danger Room. Against any of the professors, she was plenty formidable, evident by Kevin’s current state. Scott knew he could usually hold his own when they’d practice but he also knew that he hadn’t been all that versed in hand-to-hand. Part of him wanted to question Professor X for putting him up against Mystique. Did he really think Kevin could do this on his own? but the feeling of doubting his friends—both Kevin and the Professor—only angered and distracted him. Unlocking his tightly clenched jaw, Scott called out to the professor. “I need Kurt down here! It’s Kevin…”

The elevator doors parted to the segregated floor of theInstitute—Pembroke Hall. When the elevator had been installed, its location hadbeen specifically chosen to elevate and descend nearest the headmaster’s bedroom. With the start of the weekend combined with multitude of students still abuzz from the evening’s performance of Grease earlier, he hadn’t troubled himself much with the enforcement of lights out tonight. Instead, as he guided himself out of the lift and to the locked double doors of his room. After fishing out the card key and swiping it beside the pin pad beside the doors’ frame, he heard the automatic lock give, followed by one of the doors opening on its own for him.

The room at first glance was mahogany furniture and fine navy and goldenrod bed linen; the ceiling was high and donned an intricate light fixture at its center. As the room’s door shut, the professor guided his chair to the bathroom—the only bedroom in the mansion to include a restroom. His body felt ready to retire for the evening but he intended to wash his face first. When he leaned forward and turned on the faucet, his hand stayed on the water knob while his head slowly turned to one side.

There had been a security breech. Without any invasive procedures—rather it had been unique mental training and coding designed by Hank—the campus’s security equipment had been intentionally linked to the telepaths on staff.

Pushing past his own thoughts was the intense, determined mind of his former friend, Raven, or Mystique as she now preferred. He locked his thoughts on hers and listened intently while assessing her closeness; his telepathy reached great distances but it did have its limits and she was within them. Without completely taking over her mind, he eaves dropped on the exchange she was having with his old friend, Erik Lensherr, who was reminding her of her objective: She was to get inside of Cerebro and steal one of its key combonents, the helmet, so that he could fine tune it to track non-mutants with the replica machine he’d been working on.

A stroke of panic crossed Charles but he forced himself to listen on as Erik was letting her know that he’d destroyed the “hidden” security—the air quotes dripping heavy with a condescending tone—and for all of them to move quickly.

His awareness expanded beyond Mystique as he realized Erik’s closest faction to his Brotherhood of Mutants had traveled with Mystique. Wasting no more time, Charles began backing out of his bathroom while projecting his stern, deep voice into the minds of his colleagues. “<i>The Brotherhood’s infiltrating. Our security’s been compromised by Magneto. Mystique’s goal is Cerebro. Kevin, head off Mystique to the hall. I’ll do what I can to aid you. Kurt, get the students in their dorms to safety. The rest of you--wherever you’re at in the mansion, do the same. Now!</i>

Bobby had spent the majority of his day in some sort of haze, courses after courses bringing him with nothing more than a tremendous amount of boredom. The colours from his pens had been displayed on most of his notebooks, doodling incoherent things while his brain was aching to escape the crowded rooms. Surely enough, his weekend with Joanna and his family had been amazing and absolutely fantastic, but the entire school day seemed to somehow drag endlessly. His own mind had been wandering for countless hours until the final bell rang, ultimately freeing him from his ennui. It took merely seconds for Bobby to gather all of things and aim for the hallway, only to stumble into somebody and nearly making then fall over. Although, a smile grew onto his lips when he realized who it was, holding his notebooks tightly against the side of his hip. "Oh, hey, Sydney! Sorry, I didn't see you there. I was just excited ´bout the class ending, so I guess I got overwhelmed!"

 Sydney mimed being in absolute pain once Bobby bumped into him, bending over dramatically while groaning. “You...really know...how to...make an exit!” Suddenly, he jumped up, standing ramrod straight like nothing happened. “Kidding! It’d take more than that to take me out, Vanilla Ice.” With a chuckle, he gave the young man a wink before asking, “How’d the trip back home go? You took Joanna, correct? I hope you took my advice and hid the baby albums while she was busy talking to your folks.” Eying Bobby skeptically, he narrowed his eyes. “You did remember to hide them?”

 Bobby could barely contain the roaring laughter from his throat, thing that seemed to happen more than average whenever the art teacher had a word with him. “Oh, the trip was awesome,” the boy reassured Sydney, his lips still spread into a large smile. “Besides the few pictures hanging on the walls, no troublesome displays of my childhood were showed to Joanna, believe me. There might have been a few embarrassing stories, but other than that, it was great.” Bobby nodded at the last part of Sydney’s speech. “My entire family is actually filled with really cool people, so while they got to know more about Jo, I had way enough time to run and stash the whole thing! Unwilling teamwork, I believe. And talking about my family, I wanted to thank you again. You know, for allowing me to leave campus. My aunt’s engagement party was absolutely amazing and I’m more than grateful that I had a chance to be present.”

Sydney’s eyes brightened at Bobby’s eager recap, ecstatic that the boy not only had a great time but that he and his companion had both returned safely to campus- on time. “Good, good. Stories are one thing because they can be made up or embellished but photos don’t lie, kid. Trust me.” He offered his fist to the young man to bump, impressed with his quick thinking. “Distractions always get the job done in a pinch. And it’s no problem, at all. The timing worked out for you, actually, though we don’t want to encourage more Morlock mischief, now do we?” Shaking his head, his thoughts briefly traveled to the still recovering mess of Downtown Bedford. “Heard there’s going to be a city council meeting soon to address the incident. Not looking forward to it, honestly.” Sporting a fresh smile, he shook off the worry, focused on what he was doing before Bobby slammed into him. “I was just about to head on over to the kitchen to get dinner started. Might need a little help. You game?”

Bobby, with his eyebrows furrowed, licked his lower lip and give the new revelation a long thought. A city council? While he was aware that many businesses in town had been destroyed from the Morlock’s wrath, the boy was also certain that no harm had been to any of the city’s residents, outside of a few students. “Do you want us to go at the council?”, he offered, tightening his grip on his things. “And by us, I mean Jubilee, Joanna and me? And perhaps Cole, Eli, and all the students that were involved in the whole thing? You know, so we can tell our version of the story, or something.” His smile grew a tad more amused than anything at the mention of dinner prep, but he nodded. He had nothing better to do for now, and even if plans came along, it wouldn’t be for another hour or so. “Sure, why not? As long as I get to eat some of the leftovers, and lick the spoon… I don’t mind.”

Sydney hesitated for a moment, smiling politely as he thought of a way to let the boy down gently. But he stopped himself, realizing that it was only right that the teens speak up for themselves. After all, they were the ones who put their safety on the line to protect the citizens of the town from the Morlocks. On the other hand, he was wary of the townsfolk’s reactions, having had several run-ins with the good people of Bedford over the past few years. “If you would like to sit in on the meeting, I’ll have a discussion with Professor X. In the past he’s had concerns over students interacting with the public in terse situations but if it’s really something you want to do, I’ll do my best to convince him." He chuckled at the boy’s knack for negotiation, agreeing to his demands with a nod. “I think that can be arranged. After you, fine fellow.”

Bobby simply nodded as Sydney explained his point of view, his smile suddenly faltering a tad as the teacher went on. “I mean, I want to assist to this council thing, because I want to know what the citizens really think of all of this. I’m kinda baffled that we’d be to blame here, while we only tried to do what was best for everybody.” Feeling like he was too much on the defensive about the whole situation, Bobby chose to let out a brief laugh instead and sensed that it would be a better idea to see in time what everything was really about. “Alright, then! Can I just keep my notebooks with me, and place them somewhere in the kitchen while we work? ‘Cause if I go to my room, I’m pretty sure a nap would be in order!” Talking about his books, the boy decided to lift his wrist slightly to grant him better leverage to hold them tighter, but it didn’t take long before one particular book fell to the ground, opening itself to a random doodle.

Sydney was amused by the boy's enthusiasm, thinking to himself he'd make a great advocate some day, if he chose to pursue that career path. "We can't have that so bring 'em along. Just keep 'em far from the sauce. It's Meatball night and no matter how careful you think you are, it ends up everywhere." When Bobby's notebook fell to the floor, Sydney quickly retrieved it, marveling at his depiction of the stables. He was most impressed by the shading of the trees that surrounded the building, appreciating Bobby's attention to detail, a trait that a good number of his own students missed. Silently, he began flipping through the book, easily finding a handful of recent portraits, noting how they all seemed to resemble Joanna in some way. Keeping his amusement to himself, he quickly praise his young student as he handed the notebook back to him. "Some quality work there, Bobby. Tell me, are you drawing for fun or for something more?"

Bobby suddenly felt a wave of heat rushing over him, painting his cheeks a fairly darker shade as the teacher went through some of his work. “I… Both,” he admitted, not particularly certain on what to do with his free hand, choosing to place it against the back of his neck to rub it slightly. “Been doin’ things for a while, you know? When I’m bored or I can’t concentrate, I make some doodles.” His tongue traced the outline of his lower lip, merely seconds before he cleared his throat to speak again. “I mean, thank you. It’s just random thing I do to pass the time, but I appreciate the compliment. My mom did a lot of painting, and I did some when I was a kid. Never really stopped since.”

 Sydney measured his understanding with a series of short nods. “You’re welcome, kid. It’s great that your mother exposed you to The Arts and while I’m all for exploration, the little that I’ve seen of your work speaks to a natural talent that you should pursue.” He patted Bobby on the back then jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen, turning around as if he had simply discussed the weather or something entirely insignificant. Leading the boy inside, he began to remove the industrial-sized cans of whole tomatoes, opening them up one by one, depositing the contents into the food processor. “Sure, I could have used pre-made sauce but what’s the fun in that?”

 Bobby’s cheeks were still sporting their new found colour for a little while, at least until the conversation was dropped and his notebook returned with the others. It didn’t take long until he was in front of the sink, washing his hands silently, and he replied to Sydney with a ever growing smile. “Nah, you’re right. My mom taught me how to cook from scratch, so I always try to make my dinners with fresh ingredients and whatnot. Only exceptions being Doritos, I guess.” As he wiped the excedent water from his fingertips on a towel, Bobby glanced around at the large kitchen. “Where do you need me to be? I assume the dough is done… otherwise, I’ll be more than happy to put flour everywhere, just so you know.”

 Sydney picked up on what the young man didn't say, deducing, "You're really close to your mother, huh? Well, I think that's great. Fresh is always best and the healthiest option. Unfortunately, people claim they don't have time to devote to ensuring they cut processed foods from their diets but I'm of the mind that if it's important, you make the time." He smiled at Bobby's enthusiasm while shaking his head. "No dough. I pre-made the pasta. I know you're wondering why. Like I said, fresh is best!" Jerking his head to the stock pot on the stove, he continued, "You can fill it up with water and set it to boil then retrieve the pasta from the third shelf in the fridge while I mince the meat."

 Bobby nodded. “Yeah, we’re a pretty tight family, actually. We’re close, and they are super supportive of my powers and the Institute, so that’s great. I mean, I know some kids around here that aren’t that lucky.” The rest of his sentence was left that way as he didn’t feel the need to go on much longer about his peers. “Oh, true! I thought we were making pizza. I don’t even know why. Anyway, you see how much I’m not focused on anything, now?” Bobby chuckled as he did as instructed, filling up the water until the stock pot was full. Fingertips graced the stove to turn it on, moving to the fridge to grab aforementioned pasta. “How long did it take to actually make them from scratch? We used to do that recipe with… Flour, and two eggs, or something. Olive oil, too. Is this what you did?”

 Sydney shook his head, frowning. "Unfortunately, a good number of them are either orphans or were disowned once their powers surfaced. I like to think of us as one big ol' family but the reality is, knowing love for a good bit of your life and then losing it is something many kids don't recover from." Patting Bobby on the back, he went to the sink to wash his hands, drying them before heading to the fridge. "I don't actually know because I don't keep track of time when I'm in the kitchen. I'm usually into my zone but I imagine a couple of hours. That's exactly right! If I had known about your skills in the kitchen, I would have asked for your help ages ago."

 Bobby could barely contain his own shy smile, although the subject was pretty heavy on its own. It did feel like this. A big family. At least to him, that’s what the Institute represented. Joanna, Jubilee, Cole, and everybody… They were misfits, tiptoeing between life’s usual guidelines and the supernatural that made them so unique, only so they could form something, rooting an indestructible core for them to grow along with. Because in the end, that’s what it was; a reassuring promise throughout concrete walls, shared meals and a common understanding of what it really was to stand out from the human normality. “While I see your point, I think family isn’t always about blood, you know? Sometimes, life happens and you find yourself facing some struggles, but the ones by your side aren’t always the ones you expect.” At the comment about food, Bobby shook his head and allowed his lips to curve into a grin. “Well, I guess it was ‘cause I was waaaay too comfortable in my own room, napping before dinner,” he quipped, cinnamon gaze gracing at the teacher before him. “But I really do feel restless these days. So, I guess I could be a good student and give you a helping hand every now and then, if you’d like. Just not on Lacrosse’s nights!”

 Sydney nodded, finding himself impressed with the young man’s observations. “Certainly not. I firmly believe that family is what you make it. It’s all a process. The ones I mentioned before have to go through a grieving process and heal in their own time. Fortunately, I haven’t witnessed anyone we couldn’t reach but I know there are many kids out there who are not as lucky. Our exploits with Cerebro have confirmed this fact.” Sydney retrieved several packages of thawed ground chuck then preheated the oven before emptying the contents into a large bowl, adding chopped onions, parsley, pepper, salt, garlic, egg whites and breadcrumbs. He began forming balls at a rapid pace and in no time, had finished a third of what they would need for dinner. “I do love a good nap. I haven’t had the pleasure of taking one recently but I remember the clarity it brought me. Pasta should be ready to go in now.” After washing his hands, he turned on the burner, browning the collection of meatballs before placing them on a cookie sheet. Repeating the process until three pans were full of meatballs. Placing the trays in the oven, he set the timer for fifteen minutes. “I’d appreciate the help.” At the mention of lacrosse, he shook his head. “And incur Logan’s wrath? Give me some credit, Drake."

 Bobby kept his smile plastered upon his lower face, the mere presence and words of his teacher somehow proving once more that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Considering he hadn't been shipped to the school in the only prospect of getting off the hands of his parents, the Institute did feel like a home, away from home. "Well, between you and me, I like it. The school, I mean. It really does make a difference in our lives, whether we'd accept it or not, and I became much more in control of my powers that I would ever have been on my own. I'm pretty sure most kids here appreciate having a roof over their heads, and people that understand what it's like to be different." Watching the professional way Sydney was handling things with, Bobby allowed a slight chuckle to slip out. "I don't know where that came from, but I think I needed to say it." It didn't long until he was left without a task, as he had put the pasta into the boiling water, so he leaned a tad to get a better scent of the aromas filling the kitchen. "Of course! That would be a debutant mistake, let's be real. Sometimes, I'm almost terrified of Logan when he yells at us on the field!"

 Sydney chuckled on his way back to the food processor, tearing up sprigs of basil and parsley to add to the tomato mixture already inside. “Now that we can agree on. Would you mind grabbing a saucepan from the wall?” His finger hovered over the start button and he looked over his shoulder to announce, “You’ll go deaf for about twenty seconds.” True to his word, the room filled with the loud noise from the rapidly spinning blades, drowning out all other sound. Once the tomatoes and spices were pulsed into a soupy mixture, he added the puree to the sauce pan then grabbed a wooden spoon to stir it. “Logan is...a special kind of educator. His bark is worse than his bite but, like all of us, he really wants the best for you guys. Different personalities make life interesting, I’d say. Wouldn’t you agree?”

 Bobby complied to Sydney’s demands, almost certain of which size of pan would be needed for the recipe to stir. “Here you go,” he announced, placing the saucepan directly on the stove and waited until further notice. The sound blaring through the kitchen did make him wince, as previously warned, but Bobby leaned on the kitchen counter just a tad further from the stove itself. And, as he watched the teacher realizing with such grace all the steps to create the upcoming dinner, the boy quirked his brows slightly, allowing his thoughts to wander about the ease Sydney was working with. “Hey, Sydney? I know you mentioned that when you were here, in the kitchen, you were in your ‘zone’. Is this your… Exutoire? I know we learned that word in French last week, and now I feel so fancy using it in a proper conversation. But yeah, if I remember correctly, it’s your ‘exit’, and that it calms you, or something.”

 Sydney continued to stir the sauce until it reached a slow boil, then placed a lid on top before lowering the burner to low heat. At Bobby’s question, he pondered a moment, setting the spoon on the holder near the stove. “Well, Art holds a special place in my heart, as you probably guess. Cooking is an artform, so I’d say yes. Creating helps me to escape and cooking is second nature to me. I don’t have to think through it, you know? It is my exutoire.” He checked on the pasta then turned to the young man with a brow arched curiously. “Is drawing your escape? Because I might have just the outlet for you."