Xaviers!

Miriam nods and waits for their order before carrying it over to the table Wanda found.

"Here." she says, placing the coffee and scones down in front of her before sitting down herself.

"Thank you," Wanda said, picking up the coffee and blowing on it. So are you still reading my mind? The thought carried mostly curiosity.

For a brief second Miriam looks like she's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, although she quickly seems to relax when she doesn't really pick up much ill will from Wanda along with the thought.

"Maybe some..." she admits.

"And you were afraid I'd be upset," Wanda said, reading the 'cookie jar' expression. I would only mind if you did more than reading.

"Most people don't appreciate it..." she says, leaving it a bit ambiguous whether she means the reading or going beyond that.

"There are some nuances to communication that are clearer that way." She smiled and sipped at her coffee, "Besides, I was inviting you to take a look at how I see things earlier, so you had something of an invitation."

"Too late to pretend I knew that, is it?" she smirks slightly. After a bit of a pause she looks at Wanda with a bit of trepidation. "If you were freaking out, and I mean full on mental breakdown, you'd expect me to try and help, right?"

"Depends on your definition of 'help'," Wanda said cagily, "but I wouldn't expect you to just stand by and watch it happen like a spectator at a train wreck."

"Exactly. Thank you." she says, sipping her coffee.

"I'm guessing this wasn't particularly hypothetical. But there is one question that it raises in my mind." She took a deep breath, "Are you trained to determine what constitutes a mental breakdown?" Her sense remained curious, almost probing.

"Trust me, it was hard to miss. And yes, turns out when you can feel peoples minds and read their thoughts, you get a pretty good understanding of how things are supposed to work." she says, not quite angry but getting a little terse. Not that she shouldn't have expected some follow-up questions when she brought this up, but she's pretty good at sabotaging herself.

And there's the hubris. The thought was simply disappointed. "Fair enough," Wanda said out loud, "I'm not a telepath, so I can't say I have your experience."

"Look I'm not saying I know everything but anybody would have noticed that one, trust me." she grouses, very much focusing on Wanda's thoughts over her words.

"And what did you notice?" Wanda broke her scone in half, munching on it as she watched Miriam. Oddly, her assessments of the weather wrapped around her thoughts, shielding them a bit so that most of what Miriam was getting off of her felt like a weather radio.

"The fact that she literally had three heads because her personality was drifting apart." she glowers at being shut out (not that she couldn't push through if she really wanted) but then realizes how angry she's getting and manages to recognize the gesture of Wanda clouding her thoughts as the helpful one it probably is.

"I take it you've not dealt with many three-headed people," Wanda said. "Knew a girl at the Institute that was a three-headed dog when she shape-shifted. Mildly different personality in each head. I take it being three-headed wasn't normal for this individual."

"She was having a power freakout. It happens but when she started literally melting into bits and pieces of different people and going straight up Cronenberg on me I had to do something."

"So what *did* you do?" More scone munching.

"Well her psyche and shape was freaking out, so I tried to provide her with a stable one. Mine."

Wanda seemed to mull that over for a bit before asking, "Did that work?"

"Yes. And it let her mind calm down and put itself together again. Last I saw her she was back to her old self, except incredibly pissed at me, because I just helped her best I could." she glowers at nobody in particular.

"But you overrode her psyche, even a malfunctioning one, with your own. Can you not see how that would piss her off?" Wanda sipped at her coffee, "It would be like me imposing the weather from Spain on Maldon. Is it demonstrably nicer than what's here? By some estimations yes. But it's completely out of pattern."

"Yeah but if a storm was wrecking the bloody town then complaining about that would be kind of petty, now wouldn't it?" she snaps back, now actively getting angry that she's not getting the affirmation she was looking for.

"Depending on what caused the storm, I might not even try to break it up. And it wouldn't be petty to complain if me breaking up a perfectly normal storm caused an even worse storm a day or two later." She tried to remain passive, but her attempts to obscure her thoughts intensified a bit. "Big picture. Did you make things better? In your estimation, yes, but this person obviously disagrees. Maybe you should try looking at things from her perspective."

"Regular person with the correct amount of limbs is better than a flailing mess. How is that even up for debate?" she says, conveniently sidestepping the question of other peoples' perspectives. "And if we can't even use these powers to help people then what's the bloody point? You can't just let yourself be paralyzed by the fear that you might make it worse."

"There's a difference between helping and substituting your judgment for hers. You're not even entertaining the idea that you *might* have been wrong. It's not about being paralyzed in fear. It's about being aware of consequences."

"I couldn't exactly ask her and it seems a little unfair to call me out for not having been perfect in the face of someone melting into dozens of people!" she says, standing up with enough force to knock her chair into the (thankfully empty) one behind her.

Wanda watches the outburst, raising an eyebrow. "Who asked for perfect? Did I say you had to be perfect? You're still making it about *you* and how unfair it is for you. You're not even considering why this other person might be upset with you. If you do that and they're wrong, then you can't control that and you move on with your life, but without that consideration you might as well be telling yourself a damn story to make you the one who is put upon."

"No, I get it! That probably wasn't very fun! I'm not saying she should fall to her knees and thank me, but maybe don't complain about it! Is that really so selfish? To not want to take shit for trying to be nice?"

"This isn't charity or a gift we're talking about. It's not like you bought her clothes she didn't like. If you had a car and it had some scratches and I came in and painted it for you in a color you didn't like, it doesn't matter that I was trying to help cover up the scratches, you have every right to complain. My intention means precisely nothing in regard to whether you have the right to be upset about it or not."

"Scratches in the paint? Really? You're going to compare somebody melting into a pile of bodyparts to scratches. This is like complaining you didn't like the color the cast came in after you broke your bloody leg!"

"It's an analogy, imperfect by default. And I'd have a right to complain if there was a selection of cast colors and you picked *for* me. But you're absolutely convinced that you picked the right color, so damn my feelings on the matter? All I'm saying is that you need to consider *her* perspective on the matter. You've decided, out of hand, that she's totally in the wrong and you *can't* make that determination until you've looked at things from her perspective."

"What does it matter? It's not like there were a hell of a lot of options! Whatever. What. Ever!" she adds just as the manager of the cafe walks up to their table. Before he can ask Miriam to stop making a scene she's rudely brushing past him and heading towards the doors.

Wanda sighs, apologizing to the manager and asking for a take-away container. She watches Miriam go, a mixture of sadness and confusion filtering through her sense. Contrary to what Miriam is probably expecting, there's no trace of anger or pity, despite the argument.