Betsy and Fox, backdated to May 5th
May. 5th, 2013 09:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
om_psylocke posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
om_mainBetsy comes by to drop something off for Warren and gets to know Fox (and his powers) better.
During one of the days when Betsy and Warren found the time to casually hang out the topic of books had come up. Somehow Betsy found herself agreeing to lend Warren one of the books that Betsy fully admitted was a guilty pleasure. She didn't own many romance novels. This one had no driving plot, but the banter and character dynamics captivated her. It was something she'd packed into the bottom of many suitcases, ragged from wear. She wouldn't usually share this side of her tastes but... it was Warren. He said he wanted to read it. She'd somehow agreed to let him. He was about to discover a soppy side to her that she would never admit to in public.
Knowing full well that Warren was out, Betsy headed over to the boys dorms. His roommate was there, so she'd be able to drop the book off and then hide before having to give anymore disclaimers. She knocked on the door and waited for Fox to open up.
It didn't take long, just the normal pause while Fox maneuvered out from under his books and his laptop and stumbled across the floor in his socks, sliding to a stop in front of the bedroom door. He pulled it back, then gave Betsy the usual easy smile. He liked the girl well enough (for someone that was immune to his nosy curiosity), but he knew that her being here had nothing to do with him and he rarely attempted to prolong her visits when Warren wasn't here. "Hey Betsy. He's out," the boy said amiably, though he suspected she already knew it.
"I know," she said, confirming his suspicion. "I wanted to bring something by for him."
This drew Fox's eyes to her hands and, subsequently, to the book. His brows rose in an image of unconcealed curiosity. "Something you want to give him, but you don't actually want to give him," he observed and held out his hand, "Must be a doozy."
She smiled wryly. "He knows to expect it eventually, but I figured I would drop it by and when he reads it he reads it. He can save all his teasing until after he's done."
"When do I get to do my teasing?" Fox asked with a good-natured grin, even as he waited for her to place the book in his hand. She knew what he could do and he figured that if she'd decided to drop by and leave it with him there was no point in pretending about the potential consequences.
Betsy eyed him and then grinned. "I don't know, do you have the teeth for it? If you handle it then you can tease anytime." She held the book out to him, giving him the option to take it from her.
The bluff called, Fox hesitated and leaned forward without actually touching the book, tilting his head to get a better look at the cover. A romance novel, that much was obvious, but what about it did she think would make him balk? The touchy-feely girl stuff? The achingly bad writing? The sex? Probably that last one if there was any. He looked at Betsy again and raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "You do know what I do in my spare time, right?" he asked. Compared to the gruesome case files and bizarre accounts he was always reading, it seemed ridiculous that something like that (and whatever fantasies Betsy's self-conscious might've left tangled up with it) could give him trouble. Still. "What do I need 'teeth' for?"
"How does your power work?" Betsy asked bluntly. "Is it only objects, or people themselves that can trigger you?" She was still smiling, but she didn't step any closer or pass him the book yet.
"Both," Fox responded just as directly, trying to play casual despite the fact that his interest was obvious, "Take your pick. Why?"
"I was wondering what would happen if I touched you. I'm very used to knowing more about people than they'd like. I wouldn't force that on anyone, not if you'd prefer the illusion of mystery. Now I know."
"Mysteries are meant to be uncovered," Fox said and, having reminded himself of that fact, held out his hand for the book again.
Betsy smiled at him and passed the book over. This book had seen her through many travels, soaking up the years away from home. Betsy thought it was for the best that Fox had a healthy view of his powers. If you were stuck picking out information you never needed to know, better to face it and deal with it than dread it.
One more pause for hesitation, then Fox took the worn paperback in one hand. There were more psychic impressions in the book than there were pages, myriads of re-readings that had allowed it to become familiar and then significant to someone, but none were the kind that plunged him out of himself or swallowed up his mind like dark water. If he'd been paying attention to anything but the token in his hand, he might've been grateful for it. Instead...Paris. Milan. New York. Reading the same familiar pages on a dozen different balconies in a dozen different cities. Always the same sad, pretty girl thinking about her home instead of her work. Always the same.
The distant expression that had come over the boy's face waned and he blinked, then looked at Betsy blankly. "This is yours?" he asked, not seeming to understand.
Betsy watched Fox thoughtfully. "It is," she confirmed. "Hm. Fascinating power."
Fox eyed the book in his hand, certain that the girl he'd seen hadn't been Betsy. But somehow...not certain. He was about to speak when the brunette beat him to it and he blinked, glancing up at her. "You've known my power since the first time we met," he pointed out, the statement undercut with unspoken questions. What, all of the sudden, had made his power fascinating?
"And I've never seen it in action before," she stated simply.
The first time they'd met, Fox had also asked about her abilities and it only took a moment to catch her meaning now. He tapped his temple and grinned, more intrigued by her interest than disconcerted by her casual invasion of his brain. "Clever girl. So, you were watching me watching..." A pause. "Who was that girl?"
"Me." She gave him a small smile. "I figured it was nothing I haven't seen or lived. But yes, that was me, before this body."
"I didn't know body snatching was in your repertoire," Fox responded, examining her smile for any sign that she was pulling his leg. There didn't seem to be any.
The smile was still on Betsy's lips but the softness behind it drifted away. "Anything is possible. I've done so once. I wouldn't recreate the circumstances." Maybe he'd see that one day as well, but she had no object tied to the story. He would have to touch her directly to know that tale.
Fox thought about that and it made a sort of sense. An ordinary person with their back against the wall could occasionally accomplish extraordinary things, so there was no telling how far a mutant's powers could be pushed in the right set of circumstances. He wondered how many others here had stories like that. He nodded, trying not to let his fascination carry him too far. At least not in front of Betsy. "So...it was permanent? You're walking around with her skin and she's walking around with yours? Sounds complicated."
"Not quite that, but yes, it's complicated. Warren knew me before this. This is what I am from now on, so I think it might be easier for anyone who doesn't have the previous association. Although it makes more sense as I was that Brian is my twin, and everyone is so polite in not asking how our relationship is possible." Okay, that might have been sarcasm--since many of the people in this school were anything but polite.
"If we're polite enough not to ask, it's probably because we didn't know Brian was your twin," Fox pointed out, talking mostly about himself and looking slightly put out at the realization. How had he missed that? He held the book for a few more seconds, then moved to drop it on the nearby dresser. The conversation was hard enough to wrap his head around without the echoes of Betsy's jet-setting former life occupying his head. He looked back at her.
"I'll admit that I'm glad not everyone has done a general google search. Brian is my twin. Before I came here I was a much closer copy to him."
"Nah," Fox said after a pause, attempting to lighten the mood rather than admit that a Google search was now sort of a tempting proposition, "Not that close. I don't think Brian could've pulled off the swimwear like you did." A mental image courtesy of her stay in Lampedusa, when the shoot had been delayed and she's spent an afternoon sprawled in the sun with her favorite guilty pleasure.
She smiled. "No, he likely cannot."
Fox didn't know how much that smile actually meant coming from a girl that had made a career of putting on a perfect face regardless of her own feelings, but he attempted to take it at surface value. "It's good, though," he said finally, "That Warren knows. That you've got...someone who knew you before." He wondered silently how Brian had reacted; family, he knew, could drop the ball hard when you were no longer the person they expected you to be.
"Warren makes everything much better," she admitted softly. "Well, I'll let you be Fox. Tell him I stopped by?"
That sentiment seemed to surprise Fox, because he blinked and made an effort to control the resulting expression. He hadn't thought the two of them were that serious. Fortunately, she'll didn't seem to want him to comment on any of that. "Sure, I'll tell him," he agreed, "And thanks for the..." The what? "Lesson."
During one of the days when Betsy and Warren found the time to casually hang out the topic of books had come up. Somehow Betsy found herself agreeing to lend Warren one of the books that Betsy fully admitted was a guilty pleasure. She didn't own many romance novels. This one had no driving plot, but the banter and character dynamics captivated her. It was something she'd packed into the bottom of many suitcases, ragged from wear. She wouldn't usually share this side of her tastes but... it was Warren. He said he wanted to read it. She'd somehow agreed to let him. He was about to discover a soppy side to her that she would never admit to in public.
Knowing full well that Warren was out, Betsy headed over to the boys dorms. His roommate was there, so she'd be able to drop the book off and then hide before having to give anymore disclaimers. She knocked on the door and waited for Fox to open up.
It didn't take long, just the normal pause while Fox maneuvered out from under his books and his laptop and stumbled across the floor in his socks, sliding to a stop in front of the bedroom door. He pulled it back, then gave Betsy the usual easy smile. He liked the girl well enough (for someone that was immune to his nosy curiosity), but he knew that her being here had nothing to do with him and he rarely attempted to prolong her visits when Warren wasn't here. "Hey Betsy. He's out," the boy said amiably, though he suspected she already knew it.
"I know," she said, confirming his suspicion. "I wanted to bring something by for him."
This drew Fox's eyes to her hands and, subsequently, to the book. His brows rose in an image of unconcealed curiosity. "Something you want to give him, but you don't actually want to give him," he observed and held out his hand, "Must be a doozy."
She smiled wryly. "He knows to expect it eventually, but I figured I would drop it by and when he reads it he reads it. He can save all his teasing until after he's done."
"When do I get to do my teasing?" Fox asked with a good-natured grin, even as he waited for her to place the book in his hand. She knew what he could do and he figured that if she'd decided to drop by and leave it with him there was no point in pretending about the potential consequences.
Betsy eyed him and then grinned. "I don't know, do you have the teeth for it? If you handle it then you can tease anytime." She held the book out to him, giving him the option to take it from her.
The bluff called, Fox hesitated and leaned forward without actually touching the book, tilting his head to get a better look at the cover. A romance novel, that much was obvious, but what about it did she think would make him balk? The touchy-feely girl stuff? The achingly bad writing? The sex? Probably that last one if there was any. He looked at Betsy again and raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "You do know what I do in my spare time, right?" he asked. Compared to the gruesome case files and bizarre accounts he was always reading, it seemed ridiculous that something like that (and whatever fantasies Betsy's self-conscious might've left tangled up with it) could give him trouble. Still. "What do I need 'teeth' for?"
"How does your power work?" Betsy asked bluntly. "Is it only objects, or people themselves that can trigger you?" She was still smiling, but she didn't step any closer or pass him the book yet.
"Both," Fox responded just as directly, trying to play casual despite the fact that his interest was obvious, "Take your pick. Why?"
"I was wondering what would happen if I touched you. I'm very used to knowing more about people than they'd like. I wouldn't force that on anyone, not if you'd prefer the illusion of mystery. Now I know."
"Mysteries are meant to be uncovered," Fox said and, having reminded himself of that fact, held out his hand for the book again.
Betsy smiled at him and passed the book over. This book had seen her through many travels, soaking up the years away from home. Betsy thought it was for the best that Fox had a healthy view of his powers. If you were stuck picking out information you never needed to know, better to face it and deal with it than dread it.
One more pause for hesitation, then Fox took the worn paperback in one hand. There were more psychic impressions in the book than there were pages, myriads of re-readings that had allowed it to become familiar and then significant to someone, but none were the kind that plunged him out of himself or swallowed up his mind like dark water. If he'd been paying attention to anything but the token in his hand, he might've been grateful for it. Instead...Paris. Milan. New York. Reading the same familiar pages on a dozen different balconies in a dozen different cities. Always the same sad, pretty girl thinking about her home instead of her work. Always the same.
The distant expression that had come over the boy's face waned and he blinked, then looked at Betsy blankly. "This is yours?" he asked, not seeming to understand.
Betsy watched Fox thoughtfully. "It is," she confirmed. "Hm. Fascinating power."
Fox eyed the book in his hand, certain that the girl he'd seen hadn't been Betsy. But somehow...not certain. He was about to speak when the brunette beat him to it and he blinked, glancing up at her. "You've known my power since the first time we met," he pointed out, the statement undercut with unspoken questions. What, all of the sudden, had made his power fascinating?
"And I've never seen it in action before," she stated simply.
The first time they'd met, Fox had also asked about her abilities and it only took a moment to catch her meaning now. He tapped his temple and grinned, more intrigued by her interest than disconcerted by her casual invasion of his brain. "Clever girl. So, you were watching me watching..." A pause. "Who was that girl?"
"Me." She gave him a small smile. "I figured it was nothing I haven't seen or lived. But yes, that was me, before this body."
"I didn't know body snatching was in your repertoire," Fox responded, examining her smile for any sign that she was pulling his leg. There didn't seem to be any.
The smile was still on Betsy's lips but the softness behind it drifted away. "Anything is possible. I've done so once. I wouldn't recreate the circumstances." Maybe he'd see that one day as well, but she had no object tied to the story. He would have to touch her directly to know that tale.
Fox thought about that and it made a sort of sense. An ordinary person with their back against the wall could occasionally accomplish extraordinary things, so there was no telling how far a mutant's powers could be pushed in the right set of circumstances. He wondered how many others here had stories like that. He nodded, trying not to let his fascination carry him too far. At least not in front of Betsy. "So...it was permanent? You're walking around with her skin and she's walking around with yours? Sounds complicated."
"Not quite that, but yes, it's complicated. Warren knew me before this. This is what I am from now on, so I think it might be easier for anyone who doesn't have the previous association. Although it makes more sense as I was that Brian is my twin, and everyone is so polite in not asking how our relationship is possible." Okay, that might have been sarcasm--since many of the people in this school were anything but polite.
"If we're polite enough not to ask, it's probably because we didn't know Brian was your twin," Fox pointed out, talking mostly about himself and looking slightly put out at the realization. How had he missed that? He held the book for a few more seconds, then moved to drop it on the nearby dresser. The conversation was hard enough to wrap his head around without the echoes of Betsy's jet-setting former life occupying his head. He looked back at her.
"I'll admit that I'm glad not everyone has done a general google search. Brian is my twin. Before I came here I was a much closer copy to him."
"Nah," Fox said after a pause, attempting to lighten the mood rather than admit that a Google search was now sort of a tempting proposition, "Not that close. I don't think Brian could've pulled off the swimwear like you did." A mental image courtesy of her stay in Lampedusa, when the shoot had been delayed and she's spent an afternoon sprawled in the sun with her favorite guilty pleasure.
She smiled. "No, he likely cannot."
Fox didn't know how much that smile actually meant coming from a girl that had made a career of putting on a perfect face regardless of her own feelings, but he attempted to take it at surface value. "It's good, though," he said finally, "That Warren knows. That you've got...someone who knew you before." He wondered silently how Brian had reacted; family, he knew, could drop the ball hard when you were no longer the person they expected you to be.
"Warren makes everything much better," she admitted softly. "Well, I'll let you be Fox. Tell him I stopped by?"
That sentiment seemed to surprise Fox, because he blinked and made an effort to control the resulting expression. He hadn't thought the two of them were that serious. Fortunately, she'll didn't seem to want him to comment on any of that. "Sure, I'll tell him," he agreed, "And thanks for the..." The what? "Lesson."
