Quiet_Cool
Learning to Fly
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2001
- Posts
- 5,897
Bastard
"Hello, Kane."
I hated when he called me that.
"Welcome back. Have you made any new friends out there?"
"None," I replied.
"Just visiting, I presume?"
I looked at him, wondering if he'd tried to read my mind. No, I thought, he hasn't. THat was one thing about Prof X. He knew I hated having my thoughts read, and he left my thoughts to me most of the time. Besides, he also knew I had no problem with speaking my mind, which meant if he wanted to know something, he usually just had to ask.
"Well," I began, "That's up to you."
He looked at me, curious.
"I've been all over the place, mostly in the U.S., but sometimes on Canada, and a few times in Mexico. i've seen the same thing everywhere. Anger, hatred, mistrust. Everywhere but here. Human's don't understand me, and I don't understand them. And worse still, I don't understand myself. Who i am...WHAT I am...what I should be."
"These are common problems among mutants, Kane," he replied. "And we do try to teach you to deal with them here. But you're going to have worse trouble, as you've waited so long to deal with them."
"I know, Professor," I replied. It may have been only the third time I'd called him that, not Prof or Prof X, but professor. That caught his attention. "I realize i might be too old to join the academy, and I think I'd be a distraction to the other students if I could. But is there a way for me to stay, maybe do some personal study to try and get these things out of my system."
He looked at me for a few moments, thinking, then, seemingly as a sidenote, asked, "What happened to you? You look poorly kept."
"Roughed up by a few of the natives, I guess," I replied.
He looked at me thoughtfully.
I looked at the floor, feeling like the kid i was my first day here all over again. When I looked up, he was looking out the window.
"I'll speak with a few of the instructors, see if they'll make the time to work with you. Bear in mind, you weren't anyone's favorite here," he said, finally, managing to sound friendly regardless of the words he spoke. Honesty, I thought, he wouldn't have it any other way.
"I'm sure we can work out some sort of arrangement. Perhaps," he turned to me then, and said with a smile, "We can find a way to make it so you complete your course curriculum afterall."
"Hello, Kane."
I hated when he called me that.
"Welcome back. Have you made any new friends out there?"
"None," I replied.
"Just visiting, I presume?"
I looked at him, wondering if he'd tried to read my mind. No, I thought, he hasn't. THat was one thing about Prof X. He knew I hated having my thoughts read, and he left my thoughts to me most of the time. Besides, he also knew I had no problem with speaking my mind, which meant if he wanted to know something, he usually just had to ask.
"Well," I began, "That's up to you."
He looked at me, curious.
"I've been all over the place, mostly in the U.S., but sometimes on Canada, and a few times in Mexico. i've seen the same thing everywhere. Anger, hatred, mistrust. Everywhere but here. Human's don't understand me, and I don't understand them. And worse still, I don't understand myself. Who i am...WHAT I am...what I should be."
"These are common problems among mutants, Kane," he replied. "And we do try to teach you to deal with them here. But you're going to have worse trouble, as you've waited so long to deal with them."
"I know, Professor," I replied. It may have been only the third time I'd called him that, not Prof or Prof X, but professor. That caught his attention. "I realize i might be too old to join the academy, and I think I'd be a distraction to the other students if I could. But is there a way for me to stay, maybe do some personal study to try and get these things out of my system."
He looked at me for a few moments, thinking, then, seemingly as a sidenote, asked, "What happened to you? You look poorly kept."
"Roughed up by a few of the natives, I guess," I replied.
He looked at me thoughtfully.
I looked at the floor, feeling like the kid i was my first day here all over again. When I looked up, he was looking out the window.
"I'll speak with a few of the instructors, see if they'll make the time to work with you. Bear in mind, you weren't anyone's favorite here," he said, finally, managing to sound friendly regardless of the words he spoke. Honesty, I thought, he wouldn't have it any other way.
"I'm sure we can work out some sort of arrangement. Perhaps," he turned to me then, and said with a smile, "We can find a way to make it so you complete your course curriculum afterall."