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om_mainQuentin searches for Betsy to get help with the musical mayhem. Cal finds Quentin first. Embarrassing serenading and facepalming ensues.
Right. He was going to have to find Betsy. Not sing about it, not think about it, just do it. Better to just get it over with than to wait until baldy returned from wherever he was and called him out. Finding her was a proving to be a problem, however. He walked through the halls, catching bits and pieces of people's musical numbers (and yeah, okay, part of him thought it was pretty cool that he'd caused that, but not listening to that part right now because right, on a mission), until finally he had a brainstorm and headed down towards the gym.
Unfortunately, as he turned the corner into the hallway, he ran straight into the one guy he was seriously hoping not to run into until after he was safely in the hands of some higher faculty member. Rankin. Instinct finely tuned in middle and high school took over (though not before a very definite "oh shit" expression appeared on his face), and Quentin turned to run.
For a second, Cal just stared. Then he let out an angry, "Quire!" as he broke into a run to catch up with him - and mimicked him while he was at it, shoving his shields into place the second it was done. At least he might stop singing for a bit.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck...Quentin let out a mental shout of Betsy! as he tore down the hall, none too steadily because he was still fighting a lingering headache and disorientation.
"Did you fucking do that!" Cal shouted after him, closing in on him
Betsy had stopped her workout in the gym when something started to feel strange in the peripheral of her telepathy. Quentin's call got her back into motion. She moved for the doors, concerned by his distress. What's happening? she called ahead. She caught sight of both boys once she made her way down the hall.
Rankin's going to kill me! Quentin called back, and promptly stumbled over his own feet as the still lingering headache flared up a few notches. Landing on his hands and knees, he glanced back over his shoulder and managed, just barely, to smirk at Cal. Because hell, if he was going to die anyway, might as well take credit, right? "Yes, I fucking did that. Nice tap dancing."
To be fair, Cal could give a shit about the tap dancing. But, "You went into our minds," he gritted out, jaw clenched, after stopping to a halt in front of Quire. He picked him up off the floor, hands fisted in the front of his shirt.
"Cal," Betsy called tensely. "Save the killing him for a minute. Which one of you can explain quickest what's going on? Quentin, why the hell are you resonating?" She couldn't think of a better term for whatever psychic feedback he was giving off. She kept her shields strong, unwilling to find out what was happening the hard way.
"Because I can't seem to stop it. That's why I was looking for you," Quentin admitted, eyeing Betsy around Rankin's arm. "When I broke off what I was doing to Rankin, there was some kind of freak wave that went out, and...and now..."
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck...
"Laundry day. See you there. Underthings. Tumbling," Quentin started singing, eyes fixed on Betsy with a pleading look as he desperately tried to broadcast I can't stop this, though he wasn't sure how effective that was.
.
"Wanna say. Love your hair. Here I go. Mumbling." He tried to pull out of Cal's gasp, throwing his arms out in mute appeal, but continued with, "But with a freezeray I could stop the world. With my freezeray I would find the time to find the words to..."
Cal did let him go, then, dropping him with a disgusted look on his face and taking a few steps away. It was that or punch him, singing or not singing. He wished he could say that he was finding some solace in seeing Quire caught in his own fucked up idea of a fun time, but he was still way too pissed for that.
Betsy couldn't help but stare in surprise at Quentin's sudden serenading.
Quentin moved to the side where he could better see Betsy, and straightened his shirt as he continued singing. "Tell you how. How you make. Make you feel...what's the phrase?" He made a face, considering. "Like a fool? Kinda sick? Special needs? Anyway. With my freezeray-"
Betsy flicked a hand in his direction and a concentrated smack of psychic energy knocked him upside the head. "No. Stop that." The psi-blast had enough oomph to addle Quentin momentarily and shake his current psychic compulsion to sing. It wasn't enough to knock him out, or supress his powers altogether. Now that she had an idea what they were dealing with... she followed the trail of his power and realized just how big a mess Quentin had made this time. "You have got to be kidding me."
"In what world do you think you could have gotten away with that?" Cal demanded to know, still glaring at the boy. He didn't expect Quire to give a fuck about how wrong it was to do that to anyone, so this was the only question worth asking, if it was, even.
Quentin fought a wave of dizziness, belatedly realizing, much to his relief, that he'd stopped singing. He looked at Betsy awkwardly and shrugged, then turned to Rankin. "Who said I was trying to get away with it? I was trying to make a statement." Turning back to Betsy, he shrugged again. "The spillover thing wasn't part of the plan, but I can't shut it down. I've been trying ever since I came to."
"Was that statement that you're a psychopath who can't manage shit?" Cal cut in, and he was back to shouting.
Betsy took a deep breath and interposed herself between Quentin and Cal. Firmly she said, "Cal, I'm sorry to cut in, but we need to manage this. The last thing we need is for it to impact the entire student body." She cut a sharp look towards Quentin. "Not everyone likes musicals or feeling like their free will has been compromised." With that, she grabbed Quentin by the shoulder. "I'll take Quire and see if we can shut this down psychically. Can you get Mr. Lensher down here?" She directed to Cal.
Privately, she added to Cal, If you're too pissed to be objective, I understand, but I could use your help.
"Hey, the musical part came from what's her name, not me," Quentin mumbled, mostly to himself. Mostly just because he wasn't prepared to take the blame for that. The free will thing? Yeah, okay. Still not feeling guilty about that. Or at least not until it hit the spillover level, anyway.
"I'll go get him," Cal answered, still scowling. Can't trust myself with his mind right now, he added, just to Betsy. So, if she wanted another psi's help... Want the Prof, too?
That will take longer, since he's not here right now, but yes. Ask Erik if we can get in touch with him. Quentin's disregard for manipulating Cal was an ugly truth, but the professor would be better to handle that. Betsy just needed to manage the psychic spillover without him.
"Thank you, Cal." She steered Quentin toward an empty room so that they could concentrate.
"This was an accident," Quentin insisted as he followed along willingly enough. "I did preliminary research this summer. Nothing like this happened."
Betsy was going to save the throttling until this was over. "Quickly and concisely tell me what you were trying to do, then tell me how you tried to do it."
Quickly and concisely. Quentin opened his mouth to protest (because honestly, it had been pretty slick) then thought better of it. "I got the idea from Felix. Created a virtual reality in my head, pulled Rankin and Becky's friend whose name I can't remember into it, and used her memory to fill in the details. Apparently she likes Disney." He made a face, both because Disney and because yeah, it hadn't quite worked. "Except I kept having to adjust, because surprise surprise, Rankin actually does have a brain, so I basically threw in a 'just sing whatever you're feeling' subprogram as a placeholder while I pulled it back together." He shrugged. "Then my shields when bam, the virtual reality blew apart, and as far as I can tell, half the students are now singing their hearts out. I can't stop it, but I'm not sure if that's because it's out of control or because my head feels like someone dropped a semi on my brain."
Betsy's expression went incredibly neutral as his description progressed. She sent a silent plea up to whatever deity was managing impossible causes. Quentin had way too much creativity and power to be fucking around like this, but now wasn't the time to point that out. Professor Xavier could start the discussion about consent and psychic lab safety.
"Okay," Betsy said. "Sit. I'm going to take a closer look." She pulled a chair up so she could sit down across from Quentin.
Quentin collapsed gratefully into a chair and let his forehead fall forward into his hands. "This wasn't how it was supposed to work," he mumbled as Betsy poked around in his brain.
Betsy explored patiently, getting to better understand what Quentin's powers were doing. "Hold still," she warned before reaching to put her fingers against Quentin's temple. Sometimes contact was easier when you needed to be quick and precise. The good news, she was able to sever the compulsion that Quentin was radiating. That should take off some of the strain. Unfortunately, it wouldn't stop anyone that was already affected. Betsy narrowed her eyes and then dropped her hand. "Well, at least you're no longer contagious," she said. "Looks like it's going to fade, but I'm not sure how long it will take."
"So, everyone's going to just keep singing?" Quentin smirked just a little, mostly on principle, because his heart wasn't really in it. His head definitely felt better, but that wasn't saying a whole lot. "At least no one's going to forget this soon." It wasn't much consolation, because yeeaaah, now that she'd done her thing he figured the lectures were going to commence, but it was something.
"Only people the compulsion already reached, and I can probably undo it individually." Which, if everyone clamored to get checked on or fixed at once Betsy was joining Quentin with the migraine. "So, lucky for you, I'm going to conserve my energy." She glanced toward the door. "Mr. Lensher may have more to say. Maybe if you get some sleep this will fade faster," she said, both skeptically and hopefully.
"Yeeaaah, Just ignore the pounding and take a nap. I'll get back to you on how well that works." Quentin gave her a hopeful look. "Or you could just knock me out and save me the lecture?" After all, he'd already made an idiot of himself, been sung to by Becky, and was likely going to be drawn and quartered by Rankin as soon as he left the room. It seemed to him he'd suffered enough.
Betsy smiled. "I'll let Mr. Lensher speak to you, and then happily knock you out after. Probably best to get you to a bed in the infirmary so no one hunts you down while you sleep."
"You're amazing." Quentin looked awkward and pushed his hand back through his hair, making his hair stand more or less on end. "In a totally not-singing way, I mean." Because yeaaah. Not thinking about that. Maybe if he didn't think about it then she wouldn't and damn, he needed his shields back up, didn't he? Except it seemed like way too much effort.
Well, that and "listening" to some of his former fellow students sing was providing a great distraction from his headache. He just wished he thought he'd remember half of it later.
"Thank goodness you weren't compelled to add a lyrical dance." Betsy said wryly.
Great, now his face was warming. Right. Not thinking about that. At all. Quentin took a breath and forced a smirk. "I left the dancing to Rankin. Too bad there wasn't any way to film it." Huh. He should work on that, actually. There had to be a way to film mental images, right? Thoughts were energy...
"Quentin?" Betsy said, an edge of warning in her tone.
"It was just a thought," Quentin mumbled. Which, okay, yeah. Given his previous song-burst, maaaybe not a great one right now, huh?
Betsy gave him a look, but didn't say anything more. From the sound in the hall, Erik could deal with him.
Right. He was going to have to find Betsy. Not sing about it, not think about it, just do it. Better to just get it over with than to wait until baldy returned from wherever he was and called him out. Finding her was a proving to be a problem, however. He walked through the halls, catching bits and pieces of people's musical numbers (and yeah, okay, part of him thought it was pretty cool that he'd caused that, but not listening to that part right now because right, on a mission), until finally he had a brainstorm and headed down towards the gym.
Unfortunately, as he turned the corner into the hallway, he ran straight into the one guy he was seriously hoping not to run into until after he was safely in the hands of some higher faculty member. Rankin. Instinct finely tuned in middle and high school took over (though not before a very definite "oh shit" expression appeared on his face), and Quentin turned to run.
For a second, Cal just stared. Then he let out an angry, "Quire!" as he broke into a run to catch up with him - and mimicked him while he was at it, shoving his shields into place the second it was done. At least he might stop singing for a bit.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck...Quentin let out a mental shout of Betsy! as he tore down the hall, none too steadily because he was still fighting a lingering headache and disorientation.
"Did you fucking do that!" Cal shouted after him, closing in on him
Betsy had stopped her workout in the gym when something started to feel strange in the peripheral of her telepathy. Quentin's call got her back into motion. She moved for the doors, concerned by his distress. What's happening? she called ahead. She caught sight of both boys once she made her way down the hall.
Rankin's going to kill me! Quentin called back, and promptly stumbled over his own feet as the still lingering headache flared up a few notches. Landing on his hands and knees, he glanced back over his shoulder and managed, just barely, to smirk at Cal. Because hell, if he was going to die anyway, might as well take credit, right? "Yes, I fucking did that. Nice tap dancing."
To be fair, Cal could give a shit about the tap dancing. But, "You went into our minds," he gritted out, jaw clenched, after stopping to a halt in front of Quire. He picked him up off the floor, hands fisted in the front of his shirt.
"Cal," Betsy called tensely. "Save the killing him for a minute. Which one of you can explain quickest what's going on? Quentin, why the hell are you resonating?" She couldn't think of a better term for whatever psychic feedback he was giving off. She kept her shields strong, unwilling to find out what was happening the hard way.
"Because I can't seem to stop it. That's why I was looking for you," Quentin admitted, eyeing Betsy around Rankin's arm. "When I broke off what I was doing to Rankin, there was some kind of freak wave that went out, and...and now..."
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck...
"Laundry day. See you there. Underthings. Tumbling," Quentin started singing, eyes fixed on Betsy with a pleading look as he desperately tried to broadcast I can't stop this, though he wasn't sure how effective that was.
.
"Wanna say. Love your hair. Here I go. Mumbling." He tried to pull out of Cal's gasp, throwing his arms out in mute appeal, but continued with, "But with a freezeray I could stop the world. With my freezeray I would find the time to find the words to..."
Cal did let him go, then, dropping him with a disgusted look on his face and taking a few steps away. It was that or punch him, singing or not singing. He wished he could say that he was finding some solace in seeing Quire caught in his own fucked up idea of a fun time, but he was still way too pissed for that.
Betsy couldn't help but stare in surprise at Quentin's sudden serenading.
Quentin moved to the side where he could better see Betsy, and straightened his shirt as he continued singing. "Tell you how. How you make. Make you feel...what's the phrase?" He made a face, considering. "Like a fool? Kinda sick? Special needs? Anyway. With my freezeray-"
Betsy flicked a hand in his direction and a concentrated smack of psychic energy knocked him upside the head. "No. Stop that." The psi-blast had enough oomph to addle Quentin momentarily and shake his current psychic compulsion to sing. It wasn't enough to knock him out, or supress his powers altogether. Now that she had an idea what they were dealing with... she followed the trail of his power and realized just how big a mess Quentin had made this time. "You have got to be kidding me."
"In what world do you think you could have gotten away with that?" Cal demanded to know, still glaring at the boy. He didn't expect Quire to give a fuck about how wrong it was to do that to anyone, so this was the only question worth asking, if it was, even.
Quentin fought a wave of dizziness, belatedly realizing, much to his relief, that he'd stopped singing. He looked at Betsy awkwardly and shrugged, then turned to Rankin. "Who said I was trying to get away with it? I was trying to make a statement." Turning back to Betsy, he shrugged again. "The spillover thing wasn't part of the plan, but I can't shut it down. I've been trying ever since I came to."
"Was that statement that you're a psychopath who can't manage shit?" Cal cut in, and he was back to shouting.
Betsy took a deep breath and interposed herself between Quentin and Cal. Firmly she said, "Cal, I'm sorry to cut in, but we need to manage this. The last thing we need is for it to impact the entire student body." She cut a sharp look towards Quentin. "Not everyone likes musicals or feeling like their free will has been compromised." With that, she grabbed Quentin by the shoulder. "I'll take Quire and see if we can shut this down psychically. Can you get Mr. Lensher down here?" She directed to Cal.
Privately, she added to Cal, If you're too pissed to be objective, I understand, but I could use your help.
"Hey, the musical part came from what's her name, not me," Quentin mumbled, mostly to himself. Mostly just because he wasn't prepared to take the blame for that. The free will thing? Yeah, okay. Still not feeling guilty about that. Or at least not until it hit the spillover level, anyway.
"I'll go get him," Cal answered, still scowling. Can't trust myself with his mind right now, he added, just to Betsy. So, if she wanted another psi's help... Want the Prof, too?
That will take longer, since he's not here right now, but yes. Ask Erik if we can get in touch with him. Quentin's disregard for manipulating Cal was an ugly truth, but the professor would be better to handle that. Betsy just needed to manage the psychic spillover without him.
"Thank you, Cal." She steered Quentin toward an empty room so that they could concentrate.
"This was an accident," Quentin insisted as he followed along willingly enough. "I did preliminary research this summer. Nothing like this happened."
Betsy was going to save the throttling until this was over. "Quickly and concisely tell me what you were trying to do, then tell me how you tried to do it."
Quickly and concisely. Quentin opened his mouth to protest (because honestly, it had been pretty slick) then thought better of it. "I got the idea from Felix. Created a virtual reality in my head, pulled Rankin and Becky's friend whose name I can't remember into it, and used her memory to fill in the details. Apparently she likes Disney." He made a face, both because Disney and because yeah, it hadn't quite worked. "Except I kept having to adjust, because surprise surprise, Rankin actually does have a brain, so I basically threw in a 'just sing whatever you're feeling' subprogram as a placeholder while I pulled it back together." He shrugged. "Then my shields when bam, the virtual reality blew apart, and as far as I can tell, half the students are now singing their hearts out. I can't stop it, but I'm not sure if that's because it's out of control or because my head feels like someone dropped a semi on my brain."
Betsy's expression went incredibly neutral as his description progressed. She sent a silent plea up to whatever deity was managing impossible causes. Quentin had way too much creativity and power to be fucking around like this, but now wasn't the time to point that out. Professor Xavier could start the discussion about consent and psychic lab safety.
"Okay," Betsy said. "Sit. I'm going to take a closer look." She pulled a chair up so she could sit down across from Quentin.
Quentin collapsed gratefully into a chair and let his forehead fall forward into his hands. "This wasn't how it was supposed to work," he mumbled as Betsy poked around in his brain.
Betsy explored patiently, getting to better understand what Quentin's powers were doing. "Hold still," she warned before reaching to put her fingers against Quentin's temple. Sometimes contact was easier when you needed to be quick and precise. The good news, she was able to sever the compulsion that Quentin was radiating. That should take off some of the strain. Unfortunately, it wouldn't stop anyone that was already affected. Betsy narrowed her eyes and then dropped her hand. "Well, at least you're no longer contagious," she said. "Looks like it's going to fade, but I'm not sure how long it will take."
"So, everyone's going to just keep singing?" Quentin smirked just a little, mostly on principle, because his heart wasn't really in it. His head definitely felt better, but that wasn't saying a whole lot. "At least no one's going to forget this soon." It wasn't much consolation, because yeeaaah, now that she'd done her thing he figured the lectures were going to commence, but it was something.
"Only people the compulsion already reached, and I can probably undo it individually." Which, if everyone clamored to get checked on or fixed at once Betsy was joining Quentin with the migraine. "So, lucky for you, I'm going to conserve my energy." She glanced toward the door. "Mr. Lensher may have more to say. Maybe if you get some sleep this will fade faster," she said, both skeptically and hopefully.
"Yeeaaah, Just ignore the pounding and take a nap. I'll get back to you on how well that works." Quentin gave her a hopeful look. "Or you could just knock me out and save me the lecture?" After all, he'd already made an idiot of himself, been sung to by Becky, and was likely going to be drawn and quartered by Rankin as soon as he left the room. It seemed to him he'd suffered enough.
Betsy smiled. "I'll let Mr. Lensher speak to you, and then happily knock you out after. Probably best to get you to a bed in the infirmary so no one hunts you down while you sleep."
"You're amazing." Quentin looked awkward and pushed his hand back through his hair, making his hair stand more or less on end. "In a totally not-singing way, I mean." Because yeaaah. Not thinking about that. Maybe if he didn't think about it then she wouldn't and damn, he needed his shields back up, didn't he? Except it seemed like way too much effort.
Well, that and "listening" to some of his former fellow students sing was providing a great distraction from his headache. He just wished he thought he'd remember half of it later.
"Thank goodness you weren't compelled to add a lyrical dance." Betsy said wryly.
Great, now his face was warming. Right. Not thinking about that. At all. Quentin took a breath and forced a smirk. "I left the dancing to Rankin. Too bad there wasn't any way to film it." Huh. He should work on that, actually. There had to be a way to film mental images, right? Thoughts were energy...
"Quentin?" Betsy said, an edge of warning in her tone.
"It was just a thought," Quentin mumbled. Which, okay, yeah. Given his previous song-burst, maaaybe not a great one right now, huh?
Betsy gave him a look, but didn't say anything more. From the sound in the hall, Erik could deal with him.
