2012 01 22 Discomfort And Comfort

Log Title:
Discomfort and Comfort

Phantasm, Dajan, Susan Richards

IC Date:

The Baxter Building: FF Infirmary

Brief log summary::
Phantasm drops in to see how Dajan's doing. Susan Richards arrives to raise the comfort level.


There is no TS in this log::

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Dajan spent a good little bit of time fretting after Ben left. She doesn't have her cellphone on her. Nor any ID. At least, as far as she can tell from a quick once-over. She was strapped into the bed when she came to — only sensible considering what Ben told her — that she'd been trying — and failing — to act like a ninja.

With no other recourse, not even the ability to reach for an intercom, she dozed off. But the ache of a slight bit of frostbite in her toes brings her awake again. To her astonishment, the bot has treated it, though. She's got bandages and thin socks on now when her feet were bare before.

She also has a visitor. With the ability to be unnaturally quiet, Phantasm's entrance into the room, after giving Ben a heads up that he was back, was quiet quiet. And now, the hooded figure is seated nearby. Head tilting, reminiscent of his other favored form, he gives a curious look. Or at least what could be considered a curious one considering his facial features are non-existent due to the oddly placed shadow. "How're you doing?"

Dajan startles slightly. Only slightly because, unfamiliar clothes, unfamiliar place, and unexpected visitor.

"Oh…hi," she says, glancing up and then down again. "I'm okay, I guess. Li'l bit froze, I guess, but gettin' fixed up." Her accent is a little thick, either from being sleepy or being embarrassed. "They send you to watch an' make sure I didn't try ninjafiyin' again?" She bites her lower lip, clearly a little worried about it herself.

Phantasm shakes his head. "Nah," he replies, shifting onto his feet. "I was over here when you got brought in but something happened and I popped out for a bit." The shadowy figure moves over to the side of the bed. "So, you tried playing ninja tonight?"

Dajan grimaces, and her voice squeaks as she answers, hotly, "I was not tryin'a play ninja!" She's gonna end up with a cold if not something worse from running around poorly dressed for the weather and then fighting Spider-Man and losing.

"Honestly, I don't know what happened." She shuts her eyes tight for a minute, and takes deep breaths, composing herself before she replies. "After you walked me home, I went up to my room, locked the door, changed and went to bed. I left the knife next to my cot in case they wanted another shot at me. And then I got up for work the next day." Her eyes take on that distant gaze that comes from recollecting. "Got a bad headache shortly after I woke up, but went to work anyway. I walked out afterward, went to call a cab home… an' that's all I remember. Honest."

"Hmm." Phantasm shakes his head as he sits down on the edge of the bed, the sheets and mattress not even being disturbed by this, "I REALLY hope this isn't another version of what Baker had."

Dajan watches his progress. She is bemused, but not in a bad way, by the fact that he and gravity seem not to be even passing acquaintances, let alone on speaking terms. "You mean … turnin' evil?" Now her voice quavers, and so does her lower lip. "I didn't do anythin' to tick off any ninjas, Phantasm. Swear."

She pauses a moment, and adds, "It's like I said. My family's house blew up, but there're a lot simpler explanations for that than 'ninjas did it'. Because, I can't honestly say I /ever/ recollect sein' /ninjas/ in Thibodeaux, Louisiana."

The hood turns quickly at this, the lack of facial features not quite helping to guage his reaction. But with the difference in tone it's apparent, "Your house blew up?" Oh uh, it looks like Ben did not relay THAT bit of information to him. He grows quiet, head turning to look away from Dajan as he glances to the floor, crossing his arms in thought.
"Okay. Maybe, this was a random thing. You just, were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And you just happened to pick up a sword o'crazy that was meant for someone else." He shakes his head, "Fucking New York. Well, uh welcome to the madness."

Dajan snifffles faintly. Whether it's holding back tears or the beginning of a cold is not readily apparent. "Yeah," she says, voice thickening a little. "That's why I left Louisiana inna first place," she adds, shrugging. "Nothin' left with my whole family missin' and presumed … y'know." She gestures faintly with one strapped wrist. "There're a couple schools of thought over what happened. Accident is not the prevalent theory. Hate crime /is/," she adds, pain and anger obvious in her voice. "But unless my folks had a past they never told us kids about, no reason to get the attention of a ninja. I don't think anybody Japanese even lived in Thibodeaux."

"Kind of going with it being a case o' shitty luck right now." Phantasm murmurs, shifting off of the bed, even if the bed doesn't seem to notice. He glances over to Dajan, "So, I'm guessing what you were was known back in Louisiana?"

"Are," Dajan corrects. "I can't stop bein' a mutant any more than I can change my skin color. Or my bein' female." Well, that last is arguable, but this young woman works for tips at a crummy little diner. She couldn't afford it if she wanted to. "An' generally speakin', no. Our folks were real serious for sure about us keepin' it quiet. But the little ones… they mighta let it slip within earshot of somebody else. No way of knowin'." She shrugs again. "You think maybe I'm safe to get unstrapped from the bed, maybe? I'm kinda' feelin' a little freaked out. I swear, you can go upside my head again if I do anythin' outta line."

"So my grammar sucks." Phantasm replies, giving a shrug, "Considering things, that's not all that bad." He pauses, looking to the straps quietly, "What I think about what you're goning to do's got little to do to whether that comes off." He shakes his head, "Their home, their rules, ya know?"

Dajan pulls a face again. "I got it," she sighs, looking down at the straps. "Heck of a first impression I'mma give Mr. and Mrs. Richards at this rate."

"I knew New York was a tough city — but I had no idea it was /this/ tough." She draws up her knees, and drops her forehead onto them. "And what if this /is/ somethin' that is tryin' remake me in its own image? How do I get rid of it?"

"Nah. Considering how many people probably end up here, it's probably more policy than what they think you're going to do." Phantasm assures, "Annnnd if it is, you're in the right place to get help."

"Oh yeah?" Dajan murmurs, still not looking up. "This that commonplace, then? Random waitresses turned into ninjas just for tryin'a defend themselves?" She swallows hard and looks up, eyes shining with as-yet-unshed tears. "I'm gonna need somebody to train me at this rate. I thought my little trick with enhancin' my hearing was gonna protect me. I am so damn naive."

"Know a good teacher?" Dajan asks, without much enthusiasm. She'd been hoping for a little more normal of a life, and the ability to keep her mutant abilities mostly hidden. And all her choices seem to be getting removed by circumstances. "Because you /know/ the only other mutant I've met so far, and I will get my ass back onna bus an' go back to Thibodeaux first."

"Uh." Phantasm grows quiet for a bit, "Most of my fighting I picked up growing up here. Couldn't go a day without some type of fight happening. But, Ben kind of works with me when I'm going about like this. But, for you I'd start off simple. Basic self defense classes."

"Uh-uh." Dajan shakes her head. "Basic self defense doesn't teach you how to do it when you can grow an extra set of hands if you need to." Which, it should be noticed, she should has not done yet. She could easily let /herself/ out of the restraints, but asked instead. "If bein' a mutant is gonna give me any kinda edge against the trouble that seems to keep findin' me — then I need somebody who won't mind trainin' one." Is that a little stubbornness starting to show up in her expression? Maybe a little, yeah.

"If you're wanting to work on the powers angle, then ask Ben or Sue." Phantasm replies matter of factly, flipping up a hand in compromise, the other hand slips into what's seems like an unseen pocket as he walks over, seemingly growing interested in something else, at least in appearance. "They're quite willing to work with me to find out my potential, they might do the same with you." The hood turns towards Dajan, "Just… if some dark haired woman named Selene comes by with a recruitment speech, tell her 'no'."

Dajan listens, settling back against her pillow as Phantasm makes his gesture of compromise. "Well, that's good. Mr. Grimm already said he likes I can think fast." Yeah, she's not gonna go calling him Ben again, now that she's humiliated herself without remembering how she did it.

"Selene?" she repeats, frowning to herself. "Selene," she says again. "Okay. I think I can remember that. Bad news, then? Worse than Princess Perfect?"

"Princess Pe-" Phantasm starts to ask before pausing, stifling a chuckle as he realizes who she's referring to, "Oh yeah. The Princess is just annoying and inconsiderate. Selene's worse."

If Dajan got the other mutant's name, it did not stick in memory, thanks to the more memorable result of her cheerfully announcing to anyone in earshot that Dajan is a mutant. "Worse how?" she asks, because, if nothing else, it'll get her mind off her own troubles for a minute or two to hear him tell what there is to worry about.

"You'd have to ask Ben for the details, but she's part of this group called the Hellfire club and they're kind of… not good." Phantasm answers, "At least with princess I never dealt with her popping into my head without permission." He pauses, "I don't think."

Dajan wrinkles her nose. "I was thinking that's what she did to me," she answers, regarding 'Princess Perfect'. "Nosin' around in there without askin'. Rude telepaths are the /worst/." Said like she's endured that before. "So this Selene woman is another one. And she hangs out with a group that proudly calls themselves the Hellfire club. Right. If they've got big brass ones like that, they are also way powerful. And hopefully, I'm too little and small and insignificant to catch their attention."

"Nah, she's kind of got this mutant sense." Phantasm replies, indirectly defending Monet from the accusation, "Although she probably did do it to get you past security after Flint showed his ass."

"Friends like her, who needs enemies," is Dajan's petulant reply. "Not all of us look like Miss Universe an' have the sorta powers that don't matter if people start pickin' up pitchforks an' torches?"

"She's not my friend." Phantasm replies, quick to point that out, "But if you're going to be pissed at her, might as well be pissed for the things that are true, right?" He sighs, "For someone who is 'perfect' she can be a bit of a moron when it comes to how to handle certain situations properly."

Dajan's brows lift as Phantasm clarifies. "Fact is, it don't really much matter to me /how/ she called me out. It was wrong, regardless of what method she used."

And her annoyed expression settles back out into something more thoughtful as Phantasm describes that she can be a moron. "Hmph. She looks a little too old to be the Plastic Alpha Cheerleader…but damn if that's not what your description sounds like."

"Hey what fits, fits." Phantasm replies with a shrug, moving back over to the bed, "But, enough about her. I somehow doubt talking about what irritates you helps with recovering from anything." He sits back down on the edge of the bed. "So, uh." He pauses.

Dajan gives a faint little smile. "It was good distraction, actually, Phantasm," she assures him. "Ya stopped me from sinkin' into a 'poor me' pity party. So thanks. Even if it did get on my nerves."

She shrugs. "I ain't got a whole lot else to conversate about, since I'm apparently missin' a day or more, an' I don't remember what I did while I was ninjafied."

"Well then." Phantasm pauses, "This is awkward."

"Well, it was nice of you to look in on me," Dajan points out. "Only, howcome? Morbid curiosity? Even ninjafied I doubt I'd even be more than ten seconds effort for any of the Fantastic Four." This isn't so much her sinking into depression as a frank acknowledgement of her own perceived threat level as compared to the world famous Richards family and friend.

"I need a reason?" Phantasm's head tilts, "I don't know. Probably because earlier they attacked you and you end up having to be brought in later because of that stupid sword? I'm also waiting to see if there's any new information on a friend of mine."

Dajan gives a faint smile. "Like I said. Kinda tend to think of myself as tiny an' small an' insignificant in comparison to whatever y'all super types got goin' on. I'm pretty much a nobody, even if I am a mutant. So I was just, y'know, curious. Grateful. But curious. I mean, as my acquaintances go, you an' Spider-Man an' Mr. Grimm are the ones who've been nicest to me. After meetin' the Princess, I was so freaked out an' scared I honestly considered goin' home /then/. An' a friend convinced me to stay, an' now look at me." She gestures as much as she is able with the strapped down hands.

Phantasm's head tilts the other way, seemingly channeling his inner Raven, "Well, I'm not going to lie to you. You're going to run in a lot of assholes around here. But you're going to run into some good ones too if you're willing to put in the time to find them."

Dajan nods. "I seem to be lucky enough," she says, after a moment of considering it. "I mean, there's you and Spider-Man and Mr. Grimm and my friend Harley, and that orange lady. So one jerky fashion model an' being turned into a ninja through what I'm hopin' is a messed up accident still leaves me in the pro column more than the con."

"Considering the location, you're still way ahead." Phantasm agrees, giving a bit of a nod. He glances around before hurming. "Any chance you kept a cellphone or watch on you when you were having the ninja moment?"

Dajan looks down at herself, and back up at Phantasm. "I don't /think/ I did," she says, brows lifting a little. "I can't really check my own self, though, can I? I'll forgive the ungentlemanliness of it if you feel the need to frisk me." She says that with the sort of resignation that indicates she may be familiar with being hassled by police.

Phantasm shakes his head, "Nah. It's not important." He starts strolling around the room, glancing to the items present, looking for anything that looks remotely like a clock. "So," he starts, "You mentioned something about your house?"

The declination to frisk her does not go unnoticed. Dajan doesn't change her expression, but there is a quick flitter of something in her eyes. Respect? Curiosity? Surprise? It's gone quickly. Dajan herself may not be entirely sure what emotion it represented.

"Yeah. Back in Thibodeaux, my house," she confirms. "Blew up in the middle of the night. Gas main."

"Your family?"

Dajan nods. "I'm the only survivor, near as anybody can tell. None of my sibs, nor my parents, has showed up," she says, voice developing a hitch as she speaks about it. "But my brothers and sisters, except the baby, they're all mutants too. So maybe. Maybe they survived. But it's kinda a, y'know, slim chance for sure." She snifffles again, and obviously this time it's not an oncoming cold. "Sorry. I … don't talk about it much."

Phantasm looks back over towards Dajan, both hands slipped into what probably are pockets as he steps over silently. Kind of eirie, if it wasn't for the conversation bits earlier. He simply nods once.

Phantasm is quiet, allowing the, restrained to the bed, Dajan a bit more time to add anything else she might want to say about her home blowing up or the loss of her family.

"Well, y'know, it was Louisiana," she offers by way of elaboration. "Black family, suspected of being mutants. So you know how that must've been for us in the neighborhood, right?" Dajan glances away, then back. "Maman, she made us really careful about showin' off what we could do. But the bebes. They prolly did stuff when we couldn't be watchin'."

Susan Richards arrives in a hurry, having been told about the guests when she arrived home just a few moments ago. She's demanding an update from the automated systems as she steps over toward Phantasm and the young lady on the bed. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. What's going on?"

Another nod comes from the projection within the room as he holds off on his look through the room for a clock. "That's got to suck." Ok, well written poetry, it is not. As Sue comes in, Phantasm turns his head to look to Mrs. Richards. "She's awake." He answers before nodding towards the gurney, "I also don't think she's going to cause any problems. Is it all right to remove those restraints?"

Dajan tries to shrink in embarrassment as The Invisible Woman arrives in the room. "Um, good evenin', Miz Richards," she says quietly, unable to meet the woman's eyes. "I'm not ninjafied anymore. Promise. I don't know any more martial arts than what you'd see on an old Billy Blanks video." She lies still now, presenting as little a threat as she possibly can.

Susan Richards frowns. "Restraints? Yes, remove them immediately." She steps around to where she and Dajan can talk while she works at removing one of the padded bands on the girl's wrist. "Good evening. You're starting to feel better, I hope?"

Dajan's face lights, and her lower lip quivers. Mrs. Richards is /so/ kind. "Thank you," she says quietly. "I guess so. Little sore. Little achy. I'm told I was actin' like I knew martial arts, kinda. I don't remember any of it. Not one bit. Last thing I remember before wakin' up here was havin' a really bad headache an' tryin' to hail a cab." She tries to straighten out her face, bravely. She can do it to fool kids, but not so much older adults. "From what Mr. Grimm told me — Spider-Man thinks maybe the sword did it to me?"

With a general permission given, Phantasm walks over to deal with the other band, working to undo that. He pretty much grows quiet, allowing for Susan to talk with Dajan.

Susan Richards says, "Hm. I haven't heard of that before, but I certainly won't discount it. I've heard weirder." She lets the one strap fall, then glances at Phantasm before stepping away to a storage cabinet for an extra blanket. "Whatever the case, you're here now, and that's what matters."

Dajan flexes her hands, and twirls her wrists, relieved to be out of the restraints. "Thank you. You've all been ever so kind." Her hands lift and fall, as she visibly restrains the urge to thank them with hugs. She's trying to be a dignified adult about this. "I honestly didn't even think that there was something on the blade that would do somethin' to me."

"Same here." Phantasm offers up to take part in the missed possibility, the fixed shadow on the face hiding the expression as he steps back from the bed, "Otherwise I would have taken it instead."

Susan Richards shakes out the blanket and adds it to the ones already covering Dajan. "Let's not stress on it right now. We'll figure it out later." She looks at Phantasm for a moment, then asks Dajan, "Do you feel like you can eat?"

Dajan gets a little teary eyed as Susan is so motherly to her, what with the blankets and all. She sniffles, but the moment Susan mentions food, her eyes light. "Yes, /ma'am/," she says. "I hadn't thought about it, but the second you said it, I feel like I could eat a whole cow." Her eyes widen, and she hops out from under the blankets reluctantly. "In a minute." There's a quick dash to the little restroom at the back of the infirmary before Dajan emerges, drying her hands and smiling sheepishly.

As Dajan darts to the bathroom, Phantasm glances over to Susan, "What? She didn't say she had to pee." As Dajan returns, Phantasm glances back towards her.

Susan Richards watches in mild amusement. "Well, if you're feeling well enough to dash off like that, I don't think we need to eat in here. Phantasm, do you think you'll be able to join us?"

Dajan flushes under the freckles. "Thought it sounded suspicious if I'd'a said it, what with my bein' suspicious an' nobody sure if I'm really the same me," she offers to Phantasm by way of explanation.

"Feet hurt a little. I'm kinda stiff," she admits to Susan. "I didn't have any shoes when I woke up." Which implies that she was out there in the icy New York winter without them from some point. How long, only the webslinger would be able to answer.

She stretches a little, as if taking inventory of what her body is doing in response to the weird few hours. "I'm not used to the weather here, yet." She looks to Phantasm, hopeful, as Susan offers an invitation.

At the question, Phantasm glances around with a renewed interest in the search for a clock, "Uh, I'm not sure for how long, but I can for the time being. My area's been pretty quiet for the past few nights."

Susan Richards ahs softly and nods. "Definitely the wrong time of year to be wandering about barefoot." She smiles at Phantasm and nods to him. "Let's go eat somewhere more comfortable, hm?" She gestures toward the door.

Dajan tests her feet and finds that she can stand and walk on them without too much difficulty. Pleased by this information, she smiles up at Susan. "Yes ma'am," she says, seeking to follow the famous lady offering kind hospitality. "Mr. Grimm — Ben — " a sure sign she's starting to feel more comfortable again, "said you make a mean mac and cheese."

Phantasm gives a bit of a nod to this as Dajan repeats what Ben stated before pausing, waiting for Dajan to follow Sue out the door before following himself. "Should you be walking on your feet?"

Susan Richards grins at that. "Well, no meaner than Johnny's steaks or Ben's chili." At Phantasm's question she looks at Dajan a bit more seriously. "Bucking for special treatment, hm?" She glances at the apparition as a smile spreads across her face. "Just this once, though, got it?" And then a shimmery blue disc appears about about barstool height in front of the young lady.

Dajan looks from Phantasm to Sue, uncertain of what is going on between the two of them. Then Susan makes that remark about special treatment, and Dajan's answering all in a rush, "Who, who, me? No, ma'am, I —" But whatever protest Dajan was about to make is swallowed by a gasp of amazement and delight at the little forcefield. "Woooooowwwwww," she breathes. At this moment, she might as well be no older than the little boy she brought in here a week and change ago. The expression on her face is childlike wonder.

With Sue's concession for the hurt footed Dajan, the hooded figure tilts his head, "Well, what are you waiting for?" There's a bit of amusment to his voice, "Hop on." Phantasm gives a tilt of his head to Sue in thanks.

Susan Richards waits for Dajan to settle onto the disc then leads them all down to the library where she gets the young lady settled on the sofa with a blanket. "I'll be right back." She disappears, presumably to send a request for food from the kitchens, and returns just a few minutes later carrying a pair of warm-looking socks.

"Oh my goodness," Dajan whispers. "Oh my goodness." But she obliges, settling on the shimmery disturbance in the air, and curling into an "Indian style" sitting position. "Gosh, thanks." She is trying not to squeal like a child on a ride as they move through the building and settle on the sofa. She curls up with the blanket, and beams at the socks. "Thank you, Mrs. Richards," she says, putting them over the thin pair the bot had provided earlier. "I will have to figure out what I'mma do for shoes sooner or later."

Once they are located in the library, Phantasm remains standing, the angle of his hood indicating a watchful glance towards the door, waiting for Sue to return. As she does, his glance moves back to the two women as Dajan starts putting on the socks. "I'm su-" And like that, Phantasm vanishes from sight. Oop.

Susan Richards settles into a chair next to the sofa, then blinks as Phantasm disappears abruptly. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that." She makes a mental note to call Mike later to make sure he's okay. "I hope left over mac 'n' cheese is okay, it'll be faster than waiting fo rme to make a fresh batch."

"Anything is fine, ma'am, honest. I don't want to be any trouble. I've been more than enough already." Dajan's tone is absolutely sincere. Her mother was very strict, and she's already feeling like she's imposing. "Really. A pair of old sneakers and I'll get right out of your hair."

Susan Richards says, "Nope. You're stuck here at least overnight. It's sleeting outside. And really, no trouble at all." Just then the food arrives via a pushcart and one of the house staff, and Sue stands to help get a plate and beverage for Dajan then one for herself. "Thank you again, Marta."

"Wow. I don't know what to say. You've been … just amazing to me," Dajan says, quietly, accepting the plate. "Thank you. For /everything/. " She pauses. Takes a bite. Closes her eyes in bliss. "Oh, this is so good." Comfort food. And a tear escapes because, well, she hasn't been mothered in months. "Oh, heck, sorry." She brushes it away self-consciously.

Susan Richards is eating as well, but she smiles at Dajan, not mentioning the tear. "Some days there's nothing like a hot meal to make everything better."

Dajan is grateful for the other woman overlooking her momentary slip. "Yeah. Comfort food is the best," she admits. "And this beats the crummy li'l boardin' house room I got, all to heck, yeah," she adds. Warmer. Less drafty. Dajan snuggles under the blanket happily with her bowl of delicious mac and cheese, allowing herself to be content for the moment despite the harrowing circumstances that got her here.
