Xaviers!

((Open))

Claire was bad at planning.

Her plan looked something like "Step 1, Get to Maldon. Step 2, Get a drink. Step 3, ???" and while the first two steps had been completed through a combination of cheerful disposition and can-do spirit, she had hit a serious roadblock. Security around the University was tight. There was a tall gate and everything.

Things were hopeless and it didn't help that the last few pounds from her wallet had vanished, changed into a pint of watered-down British piss-water and plate of chips.

She frowned, lost in thought. Could I maybe steal a car? Would that be helping me somehow? she thought. Idly chewing on a fork.

A woman eases in through the door, preceded by a cane that taps at the ground and waves back and forth. The woman herself, wearing a blindfold made of some nice cloth, makes her way through the tables and settles in at the bar. The bartender asks, "What can I get for you, Professor Terrance?"

A soft Scottish accent responds, "A pint of beer, please, and whatever you have that's good for lunch."

Claire cocks her head at the word "Professor". She glances over at Melissa, chewing her fork thoughtfully.

"Professor, is it?" Claire asks. "You mind if I were having a word with you, ma'am? Just wanted to ask if you were teaching up at the mutie school there."

"It is and I do," she responds as she turns to face Claire, "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, thank goodness," Claire says with a relieved sigh. "I'm a mutant and all that and I need some help. This beast..he...umm..."

Claire's soft, rapid-fire speech stumbles for a bit on the things she can't think about yet. She recovers quickly though. "...He's after me. Dunno why, but would that be something you lot help with?"

"In general, yes, that is usually the sort of thing we can help with. Is this... beast... someone you know?"

Claire shakes her head, "Ain't no thing like that in Peterhead. Not that I know of anyway."

"You're from Aberdeenshire. Do you have any family there?" She reaches out and picks up a chip from her newly arrived plate, munching thoughtfully on it.

"Just uncles and cousins," Claire says. Well, it was the truth now. "No one close--hey, do you mind me asking how you see with your eyes all bound up like that? Is that a thing of yours?"

"It's my thing, as you put it," she says, "I was born blind. Nature compensated."

"Oh, yeah? How's that?" Claire asks curiously.

"As near as they can tell, my mind senses things through something like sonar, only better," she says, trying to explain 'I see things with my mind' was surprisingly difficult.

"And is that y'r mutant power, then?" Claire asks.

"Telekinesis and telepathy if you want to get horribly generic," she says, "But yes. Now, back to your problem, I'm assuming you'd like to attend the school? If for no other reason than to hide from this 'beast'."

"Well, that'd be the smart move, ay?" Claire says. "Uncle Marten has a wife and three little ones. I can't be having no beast tearing up the bar. Times are bad enough without those sorts of troubles."

Claire's tone was lighthearted, but there was a nervous energy behind it. Whether she owned up to it or not, Claire was scared. The image of being turned away from the school with a "sorry, but we don't want you either" kept coming to mind. She knew it was ridiculous. These types fought beasts and monsters all the time. Still...

"I certainly believe the school will welcome you. As soon as I finish my lunch and I would be happy to take you back to the school and get things lined up."

"'Course. I have to finish my beer as well, don't let me bother you," Claire says.

"So what is it that you do? What is your 'thing'?" Melissa asks as she turns back to her food.

"I eat stuff," Claire says, she shrugs. "A real menacing type, right?"

"Absolutely terrifying," Melissa says with a smile, "All sorts of stuff?"

"Depends. Are you talking ability or desire?" Claire asks. "'Cause there's plenty of stuff I don't eat out of principle."

"Ability. There's plenty of things I would not eat as well."

"Never found anything I couldn't eat yet," Claire says. "...And my da said it's 'cause I'm a mutant."

"Interesting. I'm sure Doctor McCoy will have some questions and suggestions for you, but you'll certainly be welcome at the school."

Claire smiles, "Thank ya. Means a lot."

As they were talking, the bar began to fill with some rather rough-looking customers. There were three men and one women dressed in casual clothing, but definitely not local. They all had the look of military or at least ex-military. They spread out through the bar, two of them covering the exits, while two others began to approach Melissa and Claire.

Melissa leans over to whisper to Claire, "Whatever happens, stick close to me, alright?"

"Okay!" Claire says cheerfully. "...Wait, what?"

Apparently, whoever these meatheads were, they weren't interested in talking. As they got closer, they reached into their jackets. With her powers, Melissa would probably could already "see" the guns they were reaching for.

Claire started to turn towards the two, looking confused about what was going on.

Melissa reaches for her cane, flicking it so it knocks her phone in Claire's direction as the voice activation turns on. "Call School Emergency!" The phone beeps as it registers Melissa's voice. At the same time, the triggers of the guns the men are reaching for suddenly depress themselves just as their hands close around the guns.

"Oh, fu--" Claire's expletive is cut out by the retort of guns going off. The two mercenaries cry out in pain as they shoot themselves in the legs.

Claire grabs Melissa's phone and vaults over the bar. She grabs the bartender and pulls him down to the floor with her.

"Lovely day, innit?" Claire asks him, putting the phone up to her ear as she waits for an answer. "Why don't we just settle down here for a tick?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, the mercs' compatriots weren't happy about how this operation was going. The one at the front door barked at Melissa, his gun already drawn, "Y'all fuckin' idiots. Lady! Down on the fuckin' ground! I won't warn you again!"

Melissa raises her hands and starts to kneel. "You left the safety on," she says, pushing against his mind with her own.

The man looks at the gun, confused. He puts the safety on and tries to fire. "What? Why isn't...?

Melissa rises, looking for the fourth soldier with her telekinesis, even as she replies to the man, "Because you're sleepy. The floor is particularly comfortable. You can just curl up and fall asleep."

The merc yawns and sways from side to side, looking sleepy. He begins to lie down on the ground.

The fourth is standing by the back door, looking panicked and talking into a phone.

"--three of them. There's some freak here protecting her," he's saying.

The guns float out of the two injured soldiers' holsters and start to slide out of the sleeping guard's hand, hovering in the air as she carefully makes her way towards the back door. "Who are you talking to?"

"Five minutes," the man says. He hangs up the phone. "None of your business."

"You gonna shoot me then?" The merc says, sneering at Melissa.

"Why would I shoot you? That would likely impede your ability to tell me what you are doing here." The clips drop out of all of the guns and the slides rack to empty the weapons. "Now... put down your gun," she says, pushing against the merc's mind.

The merc lifts drops his weapon, lifting his hands up, "You're the boss, lady."

He seemed all to eager to comply. In his head, he was counting backwards from five minutes.

"Why the countdown? What do you expect will happen in five minutes?" She asks, but she skims his surface thoughts anyway, relying on the typical 'don't think about it' reaction most people have.

"We're a professional outfit, love," the merc says."I'm waiting for reinforcements, obviously."

He was waiting for reinforcements. Obviously.

Claire pokes her head out from behind the bar, "Fuckin' 'ell, does this happen often to you, ma'am?"

Claire offers the bartender a hand, helping them to their feet.

"No, not often," Melissa says to Claire, obviously quite put out. Then she turns her ire back on the merc, "I've called in some reinforcements of my own, so you might want to tell yours to back off."