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om_mainAlice approaches Manuel at the coffee shop. There is poetry, blatant abuse of powers, and maybe a bit of flirting.
Backdated to February 1st.
Alice finally got her mocha from the counter, and turned around to look at her choice of tables. Her favorite one, the one she usually shared with Lydia on account of its position, was taken. But on second look, it was taken by someone from the school, although it wasn't someone she had ever talked to. Irvine's oh so pretty roommate.
Of course, Alice straightened up and walked straight over. "Fancy meeting you here," she greeted him with a smile, as she pulled the chair opposite him. "May I?"
With his attention split between his espresso and a poetry collection by Juan Ramón Jiménez, Manuel had little left for interruptions and he had to disengage from both to address Alice. He set down his cup and looked up from his book, his expression initially one of mild agitation and milder curiosity. But if he had to be bothered by anyone at least it was a pretty blonde and fellow Superior. He smiled faintly in return. "Alice, isn't it?" he said, recalling her name shortly after recognizing her face, and gestured with his free hand, "By all means."
"Thanks," Alice smiled as she took a seat, first setting her mug down. "And yes, Alice, Alice Fitzgerald. And you're Manuel." But she hadn't learned his hell of a long last name by heart, sorry - or not.
Manuel watched her with dark, contemplative eyes as she took a seat and then sipped from his own mug. The drink was beyond the point of throwing off steam, but it was still warm and it was still good. Though nowhere near as interesting as his intrusive guest. He leaned back in the chair and squared his shoulders, letting her curiosity about him further encourage his own about her.
"I am," he agreed, "And it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Right back atcha," Alice smiled as she draped her coat on the back of her chair. She turned back to him and wrapped her fingers around her hot mug. "What are you reading?" She wasn't big on literature (a horrible character flaw, John tended to say), but she was big on people, and their tastes in books could be pretty revealing.
"Juan Ramón Jiménez." Manuel held up the book so she could read the name and the title (displayed only in Spanish) for herself, then placed it on the table. "Do you read poetry?" He doubted, even if she did, that the name would ring any bells. Certainly, the man was famous in Spain and in academic circles, but with American teenagers...not so much. Nobel Prize or no Nobel Prize.
"I don't read much," Alice replied, without an ounce of self-consciousness - or pride, for that matter. It was just not her thing, or it hadn't been, so far, and she had no feelings about that one way or the other. "Do you like him?" Her curiosity remained solely focused on Manuel, and what he liked about the guy's poems (or not) might reveal about him.
Manuel paused, tilting his head faintly and considering the question. "Jiménez was never concerned with conveying a narrative or creating anything with purpose. Everything he wrote was about language. The way it sounds and the way it moves." And it appealed to him on the same level that music did. "I can appreciate that." He nodded, almost more to himself than to her, then peered across the table.
The realization that her curiosity had intensified, that she was making an attempt to psycho-analyze him, came a bit late but he still smirked. He hadn't given her too much to go on, had he? "Of course, that makes the translation garbage," he added and sipped at his espresso.
"Then that makes the translator shit," Alice replied with slightly raised eyebrows. "If they completely missed the point, I mean." She tapped a thoughtful finger on the side of her mug, then picked it up to take a sip now that it was hopefully no longer scalding. "Do you mean people who don't speak Spanish could still appreciate it as is? Without understanding the words?" That made it sound kinda like music rather than poetry, but she wasn't sure he meant it to that extent.
The laughter that response earned was brief, but genuine, and Manuel looked at Alice with what seemed to be approval. "Or, at least, not a poet," he agreed simply, then he shrugged and added, "Hypothetically, if you can embrace the idea with as much fervor as he did. It's lyrical. That's the point."
Alice pursed her lips in a thoughtful little smile, then nodded at the book. "Try me?" She wasn't as big on hearing as she was on touch, never having lost the former, but she was too much of a hedonist to look down on any of the senses, or what new experiences she could live. Besides, she did love her music.
"Such a demanding girl," Manuel chided her, though if he had any reservations about an impromptu poetry reading in a bustling coffee shop, he didn't show it. Instead, he set his drink aside and picked up the book, flipping to a random page. His eyes scanned the letters and, seeming to find them satisfactory, he began to read. "...Y yo me ire. Y se quedaran los pajaros cantando, y se quedara mi huerto, con su verde arbol, y con su pozo blanco..."
Alice kept one hand wrapped loosely around her mug and focused her whole attention on Manuel, and the sounds coming out of his mouth. She knew a few words of Spanish, not many, and nowhere near enough to follow the poem's meaning. She actually forced herself not to try and recognize any words, to be attentive to the musicality of the words only. It was easy to ignore everything else, including the noises and chatter around them, but whether that was because the poem was that lyrical or Manuel was that attractive, she couldn't tell.
She was still smiling lightly by the time he was finished, and took a sip of her chocolate-flavored coffee before saying anything. It felt like the poem demanded a few seconds of silence before the intrusion of the English language broke the spell. "I liked it, and I have zero idea what it's about. I don't know if you're right or if I'm just a sucker for a pretty face speaking a foreign language."
"With all due respect to Señor Jiménez," Manuel returned smoothly as he closed the book, "I hope it's both." He seemed to know that he was good-looking but, even more than that, he seemed to be enjoying her acknowledgment of the fact. Where he had spend the last few years, such traits tended to go unappreciated. And he hadn't been much to look at then anyway. His fingertips touched the cover absently before he added, "Would you like to know or would that ruin the effect?"
"Hey, if it's worth knowing?" Alice replied, smirking from his first answer - in appreciation, mostly. She probably would've made the same comeback, in his place, and she could definitely appreciate that. But, more to the point, "Do tell."
"Death." Manuel answered with an exhale of breath that was part sigh and part abbreviated laugh because, really, it was the obvious guess when it came to poetry. Death or love. "It's called El Viaje Definitivo. The Definitive Journey. Jiménez is reflecting on his own inevitable passing and everything that will remain unchanged after he's gone. How he will be dead and the birds will still be singing." He shrugged. "If that's worth knowing."
"It's amusing?" Alice offered with a humorous purse of her lips. "I mean, that I would've been so enthralled by something pretty macabre." She didn't seem traumatized in the least, however; amused really summed it up.
"The macabre elements aren't what I find disagreeable," Manuel answered, smirking thinly, "It's the lack of ambition. I intend to change the world while I'm in it. Don't you? Still..." He tipped his head toward her in a small nod, "I would be happy to enthrall you any time."
Alice laughed, absolutely delighted by his conclusion, but feeling no need to answer it right then and there. She'd given his ego enough to go on for now. Not that it would likely last very long; she really loved flirting. "So, what, you want to stop the birds from singing?"
Beautiful laugh. Beautiful girl. Manuel allowed himself to enjoy the combination and to bask in the pleasure that was radiating off of her before giving the question any consideration at all. Then he said, "There are lots of things about the world that need to change. The birds aren't one of them."
"Okay," Alice acknowledged with an amused smile, but it had not lost its curious edge, especially not when she was getting to the question she actually meant, but hadn't voiced yet. "So what kind of changes do you have in mind?"
Manuel exchanged a meaningful glance with her, as if he could tell her without opening his mouth to remember where they were and that there were some topics which simply couldn't be discussed off of school grounds, then took another swallow of espresso. "Well. I haven't put the manifesto into order just yet."
Alice was more confused than anything else by his look, unsure what he was trying to say - but confusion, of course, led to amusement, in the kind of mood she was in. She didn't for a second think he meant that he couldn't talk about it around flatscans. This was Lydia's and her favorite table for a reason: it was in the perfect spot to have this kind of conversation without being overheard - or at least, not without noticing that someone was close enough to listen. "You might want to direct your ambition that way, then," Alice answered, and pursed her lips in a quick amused moue. "Revolutions without manifestos can end up being pretty pointless, and we wouldn't want that."
Alice didn't seem to understand and Manuel nearly rolled his eyes at her tangible confusion. Careless girl. But at least she wasn't pressing him for details. He smirked and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and peering at her with a flicker of light-hearted challenge in his dark eyes. "Now Alice. Are you making fun of me?"
Alice laughed again, not in the least put off - on the contrary. "I wouldn't dare, Manuel."
Both of Manuel's eyes remained trained on Alice's for a moment longer, then he reached out and brushed some blonde hair back from her face. "Liar," he said in a soft, smooth voice that was tinged audibly with amusement. He tucked the stray tresses behind her ear and drew back his hand. "So. You don't read poetry or write manifestos. What is it that catches your interest?"
Alice's eyebrows raised with amusement as he reached across the table, but she did not look away from him as he tucked her hair back, silver eyes twinkling. Was it lying when it was sarcasm? But she didn't contradict him, too amused - and now very much understanding why Irvine hadn't been keen on taking her back to his room on Halloween, respect for his roommate aside. Damn right Manuel could've been a distraction.
"Apart from a pretty face?" she shot back, since they had already established that much. "People, mostly, whether they're pretty or not. Dance." Before Xavier's, she might have said dancing, but now it was no longer just a hobby. Now it was dance. "Making the most of life, because you never know when it's going to stop. That's my own ambition, no manifesto needed." Unlike a lot of teenagers who liked to say carpe diem because they were young, and it was the thing to say and do, in her, the sentiment was rooted in a strong belief, taught her by her time spent as a non-corporeal entity.
"Apart from a pretty face," Manuel agreed, seemingly pleased to hear the assessment as many times as Alice was willing to make it. Her answer, though, seemed to give him pause. He had never considered most people to be worth much at all and being forced to experience what was kept beneath the surface (while admittedly advantageous in some cases) hadn't changed his mind. He traced the rim of his cup with one finger, then decided not to go there. "Does that make you an optimist or a realist, I wonder? But I have no doubt you're an extraordinary dancer."
Alice smiled. "I am. You should come and see the piece I'm working on with Blaine, when we're done with it. I think you might like it." Given the way he had been talking about that poet earlier. "And I'd go with hedonist, but hey."
Manuel smiled at the complete absence of false modesty in Alice's answer. He never bothered with it either and it was always (somehow) pleasant to hold a conversation with someone whose words weren't jarringly disconnected from their feelings. But he kept his approval to himself. Instead, he answered, "There's something to be said for hedonism, though, admittedly, I'm out of practice. When do you perform?"
"We haven't set a date yet," Alice answered with a small purse of her lips. "But it shouldn't be too long now before we deem it ready for public viewing." There was a faint edge of nerves fluttering in her lungs at the thought, because she had never really performed, but she was embracing the new experience all the same. "I'll let you know."
That anxious flutter didn't escape Manuel's attention and he observed her thoughtfully before answering with a smirk, "I hope Blaine won't be offended if I bring flowers for you and not for him."
"I think he'll be too busy only having eyes for Kurt," Alice assured him with a grin. She didn't take his words seriously; a school performance was hardly worth flowers. She was no prima ballerina. "We're safe."
"Splendid," Manuel retorted, his smug smile making it difficult to tell with certainty how serious he was about any of it.
Alice's smile made another appearance, bright and amused, before she cast a deceptively casual glance around, actually making sure that there was still no one close enough to overhear what they were talking about. "There's only so long I can go without asking." Given how curious she was, it was a good thing that she might just end up having a lot more lives than a cat. "What's your thing, Manuel?" When you attended Mutant High, that question could only mean one thing.
Manuel's dark eyes followed Alice's around the emptying coffee house, flitting to the nearest tables which were all unoccupied before returning to her. He still didn't seem pleased to be having this conversation in this location, though. The girl really had no restraint. He sighed and gestured with a nod toward a tattooed boy sitting near the windows; then he did something his classmate couldn't see. The fellow was already homesick, probably a student at the university from the look of him, and intensifying that emotion took almost no effort at all. That pang of sadness deepened into sorrow and he continued to press, waiting for the result he wanted.
Across the room, the boy slumped to rest his elbows on the table. At first he just trembled a bit, but then he began to sniffle and finally to cry, failing to hide it as he pressed his hands over his eyes. Then the Spaniard released his hold and looked back across the table at the blonde. "I have many talents," he said flatly.
What did he look so discontent about? Nobody could hear them, Alice wasn't stupid. But then she looked towards the boy he had indicated, frowning slightly as nothing seemed to happen. At first. Until he burst into tears, and her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Whoa." She looked back at Manuel, clearly impressed rather than disturbed. "Seriously?" Her eyes strayed back to the boy, but she forced herself to look away. The last thing she wanted was for the kid to realize that she was staring. "Emotional control?" she hazarded a guess, keeping her voice quiet. It was that or just making people feel like shit with a look, but emotional control sounded better.
While saying it out loud nullified the purpose of the demonstration on the unfortunate boy across the room, there was no taking the words back out of the air and Manuel couldn't stop himself from enjoying Alice's apparent appreciation. He smirked. "Seriously," was all he said on the subject, then, "What's your thing?"
"Apart from the prettiest eyes you've ever seen?" she asked, eyes in question twinkling - she clearly wasn't taking her words overly seriously. The good thing about that physical tell was that she could fib about contacts when flatscans asked her about them. "I'm your neighborly psionic entity." She'd dare most flatscans to understand what she was saying, even if anybody was close enough to hear her. Enough mutants had trouble with the concept, and they were at least vaguely familiar with what psionic meant.
Manuel laughed, but his tone made clear acknowledgment of his agreement, "Apart from those." When the answer came it silenced the Spaniard, who required several seconds to find meaning for the term and to wrap his mind around its implications. A psionic entity. Meaning that she either had a way of physically manifesting herself or none of what he could see actually belonged to her. He could only sense one emotional presence, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.
"So," he said, deciding that the silence had gone on for too long and reaching across the table to touch the tips of her fingers with his own, "Is it yours or are you just a tenant?"
"I like to think of myself as a hitchhiker, actually," Alice replied, tilted her head to the side, lips curled into a small smile. He was a smart one! It came as no surprise, really. "Jenna here wasn't using it anymore."
The reality of that situation had the potential to be downright disturbing if one dwelt on it for too long; Manuel opted not to dwell on it at all. There was nothing to be gained from that. Instead, he took a sip of his now-cold espresso, made a face, and placed it back on the table. "You certainly could have done worse. Lucky girl." Unlike the other one, apparently. "So. Do you come and go as you please? Hitch other rides?"
"I could if I wanted to," Alice answered, keeping her head slightly tilted to the side. "But with this hot a ride, why would I," she went on, tapping one of her fingers against his where they were still touching. It was the type of flirty, carefree answer she used when she didn't want to get too heavy, admittedly. It was a lot more fun to answer that than to get into how awful these few months without a body had been, and how she never left, and if she had her way never would leave this one again without a reason. "I do practice with other students. Wouldn't want to get rusty at the old possession trick." And of course, there was her practice with Betsy. Soon enough, she hoped to be adept at more than just possessing a body.
If Manuel were anyone but who he was, Alice's casual act would have gone by him without question. But he could sense those somber emotions on the periphery of her mind and the experience was only heightened by physical contact. Her circumstances still weren't easy for her and there was a time when it had been far worse. What a couple of liars they were. "You have a point," he said smoothly, "It would be a waste to let this one go."
Then he paused, eyebrows raising slightly, "They allow that? I'm...surprised."
His admission made her chuckle, and she pulled her hand back to wrap it around her mug again, for all that it had lost some warmth. She didn't mind the contact at all, far from it, but it seemed somewhat awkward to keep such light contact going for so long. "It isn't as if anybody else was using it. Xavier does bi-monthly sweeps to make sure the original owner isn't coming back for it." Much as she made it sound like nothing much, these checks never came without some form of anxiety on her part. What if, somehow, Jenna came back for her body? What was Alice supposed to do then?
Manuel shook his head, convincingly ignorant to the turmoil beneath Alice's unchanging face. The girl had honed the act to perfection and he had no intention of telling her what a waste it was. Instead, he clarified his question. "The other students. I'm surprised that you have any willing volunteers. I certainly wouldn't step up for the role."
"Not everybody's up for it," Alice admitted with a small smirk, "but I had a good advocate in my squad. And I have some totally awesome friends, apparently," she added, her smile more straight-forward now, tinted by the gratitude she felt for Eames. Above and beyond.
There were those squads again. Manuel still didn't see the point and he still had no intention of participating, but that didn't stop it from meaning something to his peers. "Eileen has offered to help me practice too," he said with a small laugh and a barely-visible sense of uncertainty, "It's completely inexplicable."
Alice shrugged, clearly not needing any explanation herself, for all that she didn't really know Eileen. "Hey, you need guinea pigs, I'm here as well. We've gotta help each other make the most of what we can do, am I right? Be the best we can be."
That caught Manuel off-guard and it took him a moment to recover his even expression. What was with these people? Volunteering to let strangers intrude their minds and twist their emotions into knots. Even considering such loss of control made him want to cringe and he couldn't imagine possessing that kind of trust. "You'll forgive me if I don't make the same offer to you," he said finally.
Alice couldn't help it, and didn't even want to; she grinned at his obvious surprise. "No worries. Don't put me back the way I was after you're done and I won't ask for your permission. For the record," she added, mock-conversationally. No, she didn't trust him per se. She was hoping he had a nice survival instinct, though.
Manuel didn't enjoy being laughed at and had to push down the urge to scowl at Alice from across the table. "So noted," he answered flatly, then smirked, "Though, I could leave you better off than were too, you know. Highs are just as easy to manufacture as lows."
"Yeaaah, but I like to live through my highs as well as my lows," she assured him with a quick, sharp smile. "It's sweet of you to offer, though," she added, her own smirk an ironic response to his own, which she would not actually qualify as sweet. She liked him, so far, and then some.
This response didn't surprise Manuel. Manipulation was manipulation, after all, and he would reject such an offer himself. Most days. He smiled slyly at her in response and said, "So I will have to work to please you, then."
Alice couldn't help but laugh - and not at him, but with simple delight, glowing warm through her. "I like you, Manuel," she informed him, silver eyes twinkling with it.
The mood Manuel had been in danger of slipping into just moments before was now miles away. His dark eyes met hers and he answered in kind, voice urbane and sure, "And I like you. Alice." It was easy to say because it was true and because the warmth radiating off of her was pure pleasure.
"Sounds like the beginning of something amazing," Alice remarked, smiling brightly, and only half teasing. It could well be, after all; she meant it about liking him. "Especially if you keep saying my name like that."
"Would you even bother with less?" Manuel asked, his own lips curving with amusement despite the hint of truth in his voice. There was so much mediocrity in the world he didn't have time for people that weren't something exceptional. Alice, though, was clearly exceptional.
----
(( For anyone that wants a translation of the poem, here is a link. ))
Backdated to February 1st.
Alice finally got her mocha from the counter, and turned around to look at her choice of tables. Her favorite one, the one she usually shared with Lydia on account of its position, was taken. But on second look, it was taken by someone from the school, although it wasn't someone she had ever talked to. Irvine's oh so pretty roommate.
Of course, Alice straightened up and walked straight over. "Fancy meeting you here," she greeted him with a smile, as she pulled the chair opposite him. "May I?"
With his attention split between his espresso and a poetry collection by Juan Ramón Jiménez, Manuel had little left for interruptions and he had to disengage from both to address Alice. He set down his cup and looked up from his book, his expression initially one of mild agitation and milder curiosity. But if he had to be bothered by anyone at least it was a pretty blonde and fellow Superior. He smiled faintly in return. "Alice, isn't it?" he said, recalling her name shortly after recognizing her face, and gestured with his free hand, "By all means."
"Thanks," Alice smiled as she took a seat, first setting her mug down. "And yes, Alice, Alice Fitzgerald. And you're Manuel." But she hadn't learned his hell of a long last name by heart, sorry - or not.
Manuel watched her with dark, contemplative eyes as she took a seat and then sipped from his own mug. The drink was beyond the point of throwing off steam, but it was still warm and it was still good. Though nowhere near as interesting as his intrusive guest. He leaned back in the chair and squared his shoulders, letting her curiosity about him further encourage his own about her.
"I am," he agreed, "And it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Right back atcha," Alice smiled as she draped her coat on the back of her chair. She turned back to him and wrapped her fingers around her hot mug. "What are you reading?" She wasn't big on literature (a horrible character flaw, John tended to say), but she was big on people, and their tastes in books could be pretty revealing.
"Juan Ramón Jiménez." Manuel held up the book so she could read the name and the title (displayed only in Spanish) for herself, then placed it on the table. "Do you read poetry?" He doubted, even if she did, that the name would ring any bells. Certainly, the man was famous in Spain and in academic circles, but with American teenagers...not so much. Nobel Prize or no Nobel Prize.
"I don't read much," Alice replied, without an ounce of self-consciousness - or pride, for that matter. It was just not her thing, or it hadn't been, so far, and she had no feelings about that one way or the other. "Do you like him?" Her curiosity remained solely focused on Manuel, and what he liked about the guy's poems (or not) might reveal about him.
Manuel paused, tilting his head faintly and considering the question. "Jiménez was never concerned with conveying a narrative or creating anything with purpose. Everything he wrote was about language. The way it sounds and the way it moves." And it appealed to him on the same level that music did. "I can appreciate that." He nodded, almost more to himself than to her, then peered across the table.
The realization that her curiosity had intensified, that she was making an attempt to psycho-analyze him, came a bit late but he still smirked. He hadn't given her too much to go on, had he? "Of course, that makes the translation garbage," he added and sipped at his espresso.
"Then that makes the translator shit," Alice replied with slightly raised eyebrows. "If they completely missed the point, I mean." She tapped a thoughtful finger on the side of her mug, then picked it up to take a sip now that it was hopefully no longer scalding. "Do you mean people who don't speak Spanish could still appreciate it as is? Without understanding the words?" That made it sound kinda like music rather than poetry, but she wasn't sure he meant it to that extent.
The laughter that response earned was brief, but genuine, and Manuel looked at Alice with what seemed to be approval. "Or, at least, not a poet," he agreed simply, then he shrugged and added, "Hypothetically, if you can embrace the idea with as much fervor as he did. It's lyrical. That's the point."
Alice pursed her lips in a thoughtful little smile, then nodded at the book. "Try me?" She wasn't as big on hearing as she was on touch, never having lost the former, but she was too much of a hedonist to look down on any of the senses, or what new experiences she could live. Besides, she did love her music.
"Such a demanding girl," Manuel chided her, though if he had any reservations about an impromptu poetry reading in a bustling coffee shop, he didn't show it. Instead, he set his drink aside and picked up the book, flipping to a random page. His eyes scanned the letters and, seeming to find them satisfactory, he began to read. "...Y yo me ire. Y se quedaran los pajaros cantando, y se quedara mi huerto, con su verde arbol, y con su pozo blanco..."
Alice kept one hand wrapped loosely around her mug and focused her whole attention on Manuel, and the sounds coming out of his mouth. She knew a few words of Spanish, not many, and nowhere near enough to follow the poem's meaning. She actually forced herself not to try and recognize any words, to be attentive to the musicality of the words only. It was easy to ignore everything else, including the noises and chatter around them, but whether that was because the poem was that lyrical or Manuel was that attractive, she couldn't tell.
She was still smiling lightly by the time he was finished, and took a sip of her chocolate-flavored coffee before saying anything. It felt like the poem demanded a few seconds of silence before the intrusion of the English language broke the spell. "I liked it, and I have zero idea what it's about. I don't know if you're right or if I'm just a sucker for a pretty face speaking a foreign language."
"With all due respect to Señor Jiménez," Manuel returned smoothly as he closed the book, "I hope it's both." He seemed to know that he was good-looking but, even more than that, he seemed to be enjoying her acknowledgment of the fact. Where he had spend the last few years, such traits tended to go unappreciated. And he hadn't been much to look at then anyway. His fingertips touched the cover absently before he added, "Would you like to know or would that ruin the effect?"
"Hey, if it's worth knowing?" Alice replied, smirking from his first answer - in appreciation, mostly. She probably would've made the same comeback, in his place, and she could definitely appreciate that. But, more to the point, "Do tell."
"Death." Manuel answered with an exhale of breath that was part sigh and part abbreviated laugh because, really, it was the obvious guess when it came to poetry. Death or love. "It's called El Viaje Definitivo. The Definitive Journey. Jiménez is reflecting on his own inevitable passing and everything that will remain unchanged after he's gone. How he will be dead and the birds will still be singing." He shrugged. "If that's worth knowing."
"It's amusing?" Alice offered with a humorous purse of her lips. "I mean, that I would've been so enthralled by something pretty macabre." She didn't seem traumatized in the least, however; amused really summed it up.
"The macabre elements aren't what I find disagreeable," Manuel answered, smirking thinly, "It's the lack of ambition. I intend to change the world while I'm in it. Don't you? Still..." He tipped his head toward her in a small nod, "I would be happy to enthrall you any time."
Alice laughed, absolutely delighted by his conclusion, but feeling no need to answer it right then and there. She'd given his ego enough to go on for now. Not that it would likely last very long; she really loved flirting. "So, what, you want to stop the birds from singing?"
Beautiful laugh. Beautiful girl. Manuel allowed himself to enjoy the combination and to bask in the pleasure that was radiating off of her before giving the question any consideration at all. Then he said, "There are lots of things about the world that need to change. The birds aren't one of them."
"Okay," Alice acknowledged with an amused smile, but it had not lost its curious edge, especially not when she was getting to the question she actually meant, but hadn't voiced yet. "So what kind of changes do you have in mind?"
Manuel exchanged a meaningful glance with her, as if he could tell her without opening his mouth to remember where they were and that there were some topics which simply couldn't be discussed off of school grounds, then took another swallow of espresso. "Well. I haven't put the manifesto into order just yet."
Alice was more confused than anything else by his look, unsure what he was trying to say - but confusion, of course, led to amusement, in the kind of mood she was in. She didn't for a second think he meant that he couldn't talk about it around flatscans. This was Lydia's and her favorite table for a reason: it was in the perfect spot to have this kind of conversation without being overheard - or at least, not without noticing that someone was close enough to listen. "You might want to direct your ambition that way, then," Alice answered, and pursed her lips in a quick amused moue. "Revolutions without manifestos can end up being pretty pointless, and we wouldn't want that."
Alice didn't seem to understand and Manuel nearly rolled his eyes at her tangible confusion. Careless girl. But at least she wasn't pressing him for details. He smirked and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and peering at her with a flicker of light-hearted challenge in his dark eyes. "Now Alice. Are you making fun of me?"
Alice laughed again, not in the least put off - on the contrary. "I wouldn't dare, Manuel."
Both of Manuel's eyes remained trained on Alice's for a moment longer, then he reached out and brushed some blonde hair back from her face. "Liar," he said in a soft, smooth voice that was tinged audibly with amusement. He tucked the stray tresses behind her ear and drew back his hand. "So. You don't read poetry or write manifestos. What is it that catches your interest?"
Alice's eyebrows raised with amusement as he reached across the table, but she did not look away from him as he tucked her hair back, silver eyes twinkling. Was it lying when it was sarcasm? But she didn't contradict him, too amused - and now very much understanding why Irvine hadn't been keen on taking her back to his room on Halloween, respect for his roommate aside. Damn right Manuel could've been a distraction.
"Apart from a pretty face?" she shot back, since they had already established that much. "People, mostly, whether they're pretty or not. Dance." Before Xavier's, she might have said dancing, but now it was no longer just a hobby. Now it was dance. "Making the most of life, because you never know when it's going to stop. That's my own ambition, no manifesto needed." Unlike a lot of teenagers who liked to say carpe diem because they were young, and it was the thing to say and do, in her, the sentiment was rooted in a strong belief, taught her by her time spent as a non-corporeal entity.
"Apart from a pretty face," Manuel agreed, seemingly pleased to hear the assessment as many times as Alice was willing to make it. Her answer, though, seemed to give him pause. He had never considered most people to be worth much at all and being forced to experience what was kept beneath the surface (while admittedly advantageous in some cases) hadn't changed his mind. He traced the rim of his cup with one finger, then decided not to go there. "Does that make you an optimist or a realist, I wonder? But I have no doubt you're an extraordinary dancer."
Alice smiled. "I am. You should come and see the piece I'm working on with Blaine, when we're done with it. I think you might like it." Given the way he had been talking about that poet earlier. "And I'd go with hedonist, but hey."
Manuel smiled at the complete absence of false modesty in Alice's answer. He never bothered with it either and it was always (somehow) pleasant to hold a conversation with someone whose words weren't jarringly disconnected from their feelings. But he kept his approval to himself. Instead, he answered, "There's something to be said for hedonism, though, admittedly, I'm out of practice. When do you perform?"
"We haven't set a date yet," Alice answered with a small purse of her lips. "But it shouldn't be too long now before we deem it ready for public viewing." There was a faint edge of nerves fluttering in her lungs at the thought, because she had never really performed, but she was embracing the new experience all the same. "I'll let you know."
That anxious flutter didn't escape Manuel's attention and he observed her thoughtfully before answering with a smirk, "I hope Blaine won't be offended if I bring flowers for you and not for him."
"I think he'll be too busy only having eyes for Kurt," Alice assured him with a grin. She didn't take his words seriously; a school performance was hardly worth flowers. She was no prima ballerina. "We're safe."
"Splendid," Manuel retorted, his smug smile making it difficult to tell with certainty how serious he was about any of it.
Alice's smile made another appearance, bright and amused, before she cast a deceptively casual glance around, actually making sure that there was still no one close enough to overhear what they were talking about. "There's only so long I can go without asking." Given how curious she was, it was a good thing that she might just end up having a lot more lives than a cat. "What's your thing, Manuel?" When you attended Mutant High, that question could only mean one thing.
Manuel's dark eyes followed Alice's around the emptying coffee house, flitting to the nearest tables which were all unoccupied before returning to her. He still didn't seem pleased to be having this conversation in this location, though. The girl really had no restraint. He sighed and gestured with a nod toward a tattooed boy sitting near the windows; then he did something his classmate couldn't see. The fellow was already homesick, probably a student at the university from the look of him, and intensifying that emotion took almost no effort at all. That pang of sadness deepened into sorrow and he continued to press, waiting for the result he wanted.
Across the room, the boy slumped to rest his elbows on the table. At first he just trembled a bit, but then he began to sniffle and finally to cry, failing to hide it as he pressed his hands over his eyes. Then the Spaniard released his hold and looked back across the table at the blonde. "I have many talents," he said flatly.
What did he look so discontent about? Nobody could hear them, Alice wasn't stupid. But then she looked towards the boy he had indicated, frowning slightly as nothing seemed to happen. At first. Until he burst into tears, and her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Whoa." She looked back at Manuel, clearly impressed rather than disturbed. "Seriously?" Her eyes strayed back to the boy, but she forced herself to look away. The last thing she wanted was for the kid to realize that she was staring. "Emotional control?" she hazarded a guess, keeping her voice quiet. It was that or just making people feel like shit with a look, but emotional control sounded better.
While saying it out loud nullified the purpose of the demonstration on the unfortunate boy across the room, there was no taking the words back out of the air and Manuel couldn't stop himself from enjoying Alice's apparent appreciation. He smirked. "Seriously," was all he said on the subject, then, "What's your thing?"
"Apart from the prettiest eyes you've ever seen?" she asked, eyes in question twinkling - she clearly wasn't taking her words overly seriously. The good thing about that physical tell was that she could fib about contacts when flatscans asked her about them. "I'm your neighborly psionic entity." She'd dare most flatscans to understand what she was saying, even if anybody was close enough to hear her. Enough mutants had trouble with the concept, and they were at least vaguely familiar with what psionic meant.
Manuel laughed, but his tone made clear acknowledgment of his agreement, "Apart from those." When the answer came it silenced the Spaniard, who required several seconds to find meaning for the term and to wrap his mind around its implications. A psionic entity. Meaning that she either had a way of physically manifesting herself or none of what he could see actually belonged to her. He could only sense one emotional presence, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.
"So," he said, deciding that the silence had gone on for too long and reaching across the table to touch the tips of her fingers with his own, "Is it yours or are you just a tenant?"
"I like to think of myself as a hitchhiker, actually," Alice replied, tilted her head to the side, lips curled into a small smile. He was a smart one! It came as no surprise, really. "Jenna here wasn't using it anymore."
The reality of that situation had the potential to be downright disturbing if one dwelt on it for too long; Manuel opted not to dwell on it at all. There was nothing to be gained from that. Instead, he took a sip of his now-cold espresso, made a face, and placed it back on the table. "You certainly could have done worse. Lucky girl." Unlike the other one, apparently. "So. Do you come and go as you please? Hitch other rides?"
"I could if I wanted to," Alice answered, keeping her head slightly tilted to the side. "But with this hot a ride, why would I," she went on, tapping one of her fingers against his where they were still touching. It was the type of flirty, carefree answer she used when she didn't want to get too heavy, admittedly. It was a lot more fun to answer that than to get into how awful these few months without a body had been, and how she never left, and if she had her way never would leave this one again without a reason. "I do practice with other students. Wouldn't want to get rusty at the old possession trick." And of course, there was her practice with Betsy. Soon enough, she hoped to be adept at more than just possessing a body.
If Manuel were anyone but who he was, Alice's casual act would have gone by him without question. But he could sense those somber emotions on the periphery of her mind and the experience was only heightened by physical contact. Her circumstances still weren't easy for her and there was a time when it had been far worse. What a couple of liars they were. "You have a point," he said smoothly, "It would be a waste to let this one go."
Then he paused, eyebrows raising slightly, "They allow that? I'm...surprised."
His admission made her chuckle, and she pulled her hand back to wrap it around her mug again, for all that it had lost some warmth. She didn't mind the contact at all, far from it, but it seemed somewhat awkward to keep such light contact going for so long. "It isn't as if anybody else was using it. Xavier does bi-monthly sweeps to make sure the original owner isn't coming back for it." Much as she made it sound like nothing much, these checks never came without some form of anxiety on her part. What if, somehow, Jenna came back for her body? What was Alice supposed to do then?
Manuel shook his head, convincingly ignorant to the turmoil beneath Alice's unchanging face. The girl had honed the act to perfection and he had no intention of telling her what a waste it was. Instead, he clarified his question. "The other students. I'm surprised that you have any willing volunteers. I certainly wouldn't step up for the role."
"Not everybody's up for it," Alice admitted with a small smirk, "but I had a good advocate in my squad. And I have some totally awesome friends, apparently," she added, her smile more straight-forward now, tinted by the gratitude she felt for Eames. Above and beyond.
There were those squads again. Manuel still didn't see the point and he still had no intention of participating, but that didn't stop it from meaning something to his peers. "Eileen has offered to help me practice too," he said with a small laugh and a barely-visible sense of uncertainty, "It's completely inexplicable."
Alice shrugged, clearly not needing any explanation herself, for all that she didn't really know Eileen. "Hey, you need guinea pigs, I'm here as well. We've gotta help each other make the most of what we can do, am I right? Be the best we can be."
That caught Manuel off-guard and it took him a moment to recover his even expression. What was with these people? Volunteering to let strangers intrude their minds and twist their emotions into knots. Even considering such loss of control made him want to cringe and he couldn't imagine possessing that kind of trust. "You'll forgive me if I don't make the same offer to you," he said finally.
Alice couldn't help it, and didn't even want to; she grinned at his obvious surprise. "No worries. Don't put me back the way I was after you're done and I won't ask for your permission. For the record," she added, mock-conversationally. No, she didn't trust him per se. She was hoping he had a nice survival instinct, though.
Manuel didn't enjoy being laughed at and had to push down the urge to scowl at Alice from across the table. "So noted," he answered flatly, then smirked, "Though, I could leave you better off than were too, you know. Highs are just as easy to manufacture as lows."
"Yeaaah, but I like to live through my highs as well as my lows," she assured him with a quick, sharp smile. "It's sweet of you to offer, though," she added, her own smirk an ironic response to his own, which she would not actually qualify as sweet. She liked him, so far, and then some.
This response didn't surprise Manuel. Manipulation was manipulation, after all, and he would reject such an offer himself. Most days. He smiled slyly at her in response and said, "So I will have to work to please you, then."
Alice couldn't help but laugh - and not at him, but with simple delight, glowing warm through her. "I like you, Manuel," she informed him, silver eyes twinkling with it.
The mood Manuel had been in danger of slipping into just moments before was now miles away. His dark eyes met hers and he answered in kind, voice urbane and sure, "And I like you. Alice." It was easy to say because it was true and because the warmth radiating off of her was pure pleasure.
"Sounds like the beginning of something amazing," Alice remarked, smiling brightly, and only half teasing. It could well be, after all; she meant it about liking him. "Especially if you keep saying my name like that."
"Would you even bother with less?" Manuel asked, his own lips curving with amusement despite the hint of truth in his voice. There was so much mediocrity in the world he didn't have time for people that weren't something exceptional. Alice, though, was clearly exceptional.
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(( For anyone that wants a translation of the poem, here is a link. ))
