Logs:Outside of the Box Discipline

From X-Men: rEvolution
Jump to: navigation, search
Outside of the Box Discipline
Dramatis Personae

Jennifer, Shelby

2013-04-16


OMG SHE SHOT ME!

Location

<XS> Classroom One


Desks arranged into neat rows make up this, a fairly typical classroom. Chalkboard in front, teacher's desk in front of that. Windows along one wall look out on the grounds, providing plenty of opportunity for distraction for daydreaming students.

Having just arrived from the back porch where she enjoyed the soothing warmth of spring, Jennifer is brought back to planet Xavier to continue her work. Since no class that she teaches is currently running, Jennifer is haunting the school's halls to ensure that everything is as it should be - that no spiders and teenagers are bandied about with teleportation powers.

Instead, she spots something far more precious. Her almond eyes narrows as she notices a fellow redhead ahead of her. As diligent as Jennifer has been with learning the profiles of various students, it only takes her a few moments before she recognises the teenager as Shelby. With a quirk of her lips shaping a lopsided smirk, she slows to a halt and lifts up her index finger to motion the freckled troublemaker to Jenny.

Said troublemaker is busily walking and texting, like many of the other students around her. Somehow they never seem to collide. It is not unlike watching a large flock of birds swirl around in the air, forming and reforming, never hindering each other's flight path. Except birds tend not to make faces at phone screens, as Shelby is doing. Grimace! It's only at the last minute that she looks up to spy the obstruction that is Jennifer and at first that look is unguarded--and pure street-level assessment, flickering over the woman from head to toe. Analytical and critical, that's Shelby. She's probably thinking, 'could I take her?'

The answers is apparently no, because she stops, slides her phone shut and slips it into a pocket. Her freed hands curl around the straps of the backpack that run over her shoulders. The expression she's shifted into is a little bored, a little impatient, under a thin veneer of student-teacher "respect". Her head tilts. "Yeah?"

"You know what's funny?" An odd way to answer Shelby's inquiry, but there it is. "Just a short while ago, a student tried to call me ma'am." A scoff signifies that Jennifer does not care for such titles, but as she continues, the intended message becomes a bit clearer. "But I don't think I like the sound of a bored 'yeah', either", she clarifies, her the pitch of her voice lowering.

Casually, Jennifer looks around. Which one of these classrooms is currently free, she wonders. A brief flash of remembrance momentarily touches her visage, before she begins moving in the direction of a nearby room. "Usually, I'd have to wait for our next class or try to catch you in detention", she explains, digging into the not-so-spacious pocket of her tight jeans to retrieve a singular key. Not a key-ring person, clearly. As she unlocks the door, her explanation is resumed. "But I'd rather to talk to you right now." Whirrclick. The door is unlocked and opened, and Jennifer turns to face Shelby with an incredibly smug grin that radiates a thousand gotcha's.

The bored is almost immediately replaced with wary. Oh yes. Shelby got the message loud and clear, and she doesn't like it one bit. Nor is she all that keyed up about being summoned into a classroom. An empty classroom. With no witnesses. Some hardcore feet-dragging follows, though the teenager keeps her head down to hide the worse crime of scowling.

"Look, I already got talked at about what happened in the gym," she is saying before her sneakered feet have even landed on classroom linoleum. "Professor Logan didn't give a shit or /he'd/ have given me detention but I got two days anyway so if you wanna yell at me about it some more, you're just wasting your breath." She pauses for a beat and performs a quick glance around--checking likely exits--before turning around to keep an eye on Jennifer.

A hearty pat on Shelby's pack would fortunately be softened by the backpack, otherwise it would have actually hurt. The measure of force applied would either strongly encourage the troubled teen to hasten her entrance, or root her position and fall into the classroom. "Oh, take it like a /man/", she quips. "Congratulations, you met Logan. He coaxes students just by being /himself/, and every single one of you always fall for it."

"But that's not why you're here." Regardless of the manner in which Shelby would be forced to enter, Jennifer would gesture towards one of the seats. "That phone of yours is going to come in real handy while I go fetch your profile and the /real/ reason why you're here. I'd entertain the idea that waiting for me would be hell wondering why I brought you here, but I think that would only apply if you actually felt guilty." A telepath? Somehow, she doesn't appear to be built like one. "Are you going to stay?"

Shelby is a lightweight. Even with a backpack between the two, she /is/ sent stumbling several steps forward. This brings the scowl out into the open--and it becomes a full-fledged /glare/ as Jennifer goes on.

The backpack drops into the chair but /she/ does not. That there is...okay, not a fighting stance, but it would look like one to anyone without combat experience. It is a puffed up gang girl posture, all display and no substance.

"What the fuck, /stay/? Are you /expelling/ me? Just 'cause I called him a few names he probably already hears like ten times a fucking day? That's not /fair/!" Shelby complains.

"More like you have a reputation of running away from things that don't go your way. Of all people - not counting Xavier - I am probably the person who wants to see you stay in this school the most. Unfortunately for you, I am also the person who is slightly /less/ bound by regulations that students like to hide behind. And for the last time, this is /not/ about Logan. So." One more time, Jennifer points to the chair, although she does not vocalise the command.

"I will be back in about five." The door is promptly closed, and there is that same whirrclick on the other side. Jennifer actually locked Shelby in, leaving her alone for the next ten minutes.

Afterwards, the liberating whirrclick is heard yet a third time, and Jennifer steps in with a modestly sized bag. The door is closed behind her, and she silently walks over to the teacher's desk, placing down the bag and burrowing a hand in it to fetch whatever it is she wants to discuss with the teenager. It seems like she is not paying Shelby any mind; in fact, Jennifer's humming.

Ten minutes of stewing have not improved Shelby's mood at /all/. In fact, when the key is heard in the lock again, the teenager is at the window running her fingers along the sash and seriously debating escaping /that/ way. She is not sitting. Nope nope nope.

But she straightens and turns quickly when the door opens, adopting a comfortable slump against the wall that probably fools no one. Blue-green eyes lock on Jennifer and narrow to poisonous little slits. "Y'know," Shelby drawls out, too casual for comfort, "I think lockin' kids in a room is like...illegal. Fire hazard or something. I could totally report you, get you fucking /fired/ for putting me in danger." It's as if the poor teacher had not just explained her motivations before venturing out!

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

"You don't say."

Whether or not the spaces between Shelby's sentences in her rant are big enough to sneak in those few words, Jennifer would murmur those mockeries alongside Shelby's little hateful speech. Summoning a folder, the teacher flips through the pages. "It actually /isn't/ illegal. I would know. I have a Law degree. Ah! Here we go."

"Shelby Anne Wilson. We haven't been introduced yet." Looking from the profile, Jennifer looks over to Shelby. That steel gaze observes the teenager for but a moment; a crucial moment, during which a vacant hand digs into the bag again. This time, Jennifer draws-- Is that a water pistol? "I will not tell you again. /Sit/."

A couple of water streams hit Shelby in the face. This teacher is pretty accurate.

Cue a /lot/ of flailing. Arms waving up in the air like a pissed off chimp, Shelby moves further away from the chair. Aaaaaa! Retreat! "What the /fuck/, lady, are you /insane/? You crazy bitch!"

The gun is angled backward, the barrel facing upward. The hold on the gun implies she's handled the real thing before. As Shelby retreats from one chair, another becomes in close vicinity. It is a classroom, after all. Jennifer helpfully points it out. "Oh, I actually prefer /that/ chair, too." The gun is aimed at Shelby again, although she is yet to fire it. Instead, her green eyes are lowered to the profile. "Problems with authority, menacing, general disrespect of her peers, questionable company... This list is pretty long. Unfortunately for you, I will not have any of that in /my/ presence. You may not understand the weight of my requests /now/, but it's my job to help you with that."

Those emerald eyes rise up from Shelby's profile and observe Shelby herself, likely testing if she's seated herself. Jennifer is deadly quiet. This time, when the water gun points her way, Shelby slides herself into the chair with a swiftness. That she continues to glare makes it clear that this was /her/ idea while simultaneously projecting a sense of being much put upon. This is injustice! "You don't know shit about me," she mutters when the list of her sins is read. Her hands busy themselves with wiping water from her face, smoothing back her hair. Then? Then she slumps, all at once, like a puppet with its strings cut. The sullen, it is /on/.

"And that's all bullshit, anyway. Questionable company? The goddamned /school/ stuck me with like...the biggest do-gooder they got here. I'm in classes with freshmen and /nerds/."

"That's a bit of a leap. Just because you're surrounded by nerds does not mean you have to jump sixty year olds with a bushy beard, a midlife crisis and all life savings spent on a Harley Davidson."

The file is tossed onto the teacher's desk, and the gun is once again angled back. A bunch of stapled papers is drawn from the bag next, and then Jennifer finally walks over to where Shelby is seated, tossing her homework back to her. "This generation can't even put effort into slacking. You could have at least asked Ivan not to fill out the exact same answers. The trick to cheating is to at least have the decency to /not/ get a grade that contrasts what you've been getting so far." And then Jennifer falls silent, as if to let Shelby process the information.

What? Shelby looks stunned at first--and then furious. "Jim isn't even sixty and I didn't /fuck/ him, Jesus Christ. You've got a dirty mind, lady..." Oh wait, what she referring to someone else? Oops. The teenager's consternation only grows when the papers flutter into her arms. She clutches them, looks down and then goes wide-eyed. "/He's/ the smart one, not me. /Fuck/," she mutters, not even bothering to try lying as she flips through the sheets. Yeah.

She's busted.

Whoever he might be, Jim only causes Jennifer to cock a brow; in part due to confusion, in part due to surprise. However, the teacher knows full well she is not going to change the teen within mere minutes. For now, she is going to focus on the more pressing issue - cheating.

Jennifer calmly lets Shelby flip through the pages. And then they come. Another pair of streams, once again aimed at her face. "Two fucks, was it? Or was it three? No, I think it was /two/." As she watches Shelby's reaction, Jennifer adds: "Every time you swear in my presence from now on, you're getting a faceful of water." Is she serious? Can't be, right?

Regardless, Jennifer gestures to the homework. "Now, any other school, you'd probably be expelled. With a school like Xavier's, it'd just mean you'd wander the streets, thinking you're all /that/, then end up either in the gutter or a puppet of some mutant scheme. Unfortunately, your ability is only good for ruining bathrooms walls, so I'm pretty sure you'd fall neatly into the disposable category. Am I clear so far?"

Shelby is onto her by the second squirt. Sure, the first catches her right between the eyes but she's got the papers up by the second, causing a spray of water droplets all...over herself. Great. But let it not be said she isn't capable of learning. When the faked homework lowers, her jaw is clamped so tightly that her teeth are in danger of shattering--but no profanity is forthcoming.

What she /does/ say is, "You wanna think real hard about talking sh--stuff about what I can do, lady. You have /no/ idea."

More amused than annoyed that the second shot is a miss, Jennifer stretches her lips into a grin. "That's a cute look. Keep it." The would-be weapon is lowered to Jennifer's side; her other hand loosely wraps its fingers around her hip.

"I wouldn't care even if you were Xavier's daughter. My job is to turn the lanky nerds into confident and independent thinkers, and give trouble-makers like you a much needed attitude adjustment. You will see me as an enemy, first. But the starting chain of events that will change that starts today." Tossing a glance towards the drenched homework, Jennifer tsks, "Anyone else, you'd be in front of Xavier. A long-winded talk, detention, possibly re-doing the course all together."

"Like I said, I am the one person in this school that doesn't want you fail. More than you. More than Xavier. So, what I am going to do is, go to him myself and try to convince him that I can fix this stupid mistake of yours. And I am going to fix it by assigning extracurricular Danger Room sessions." A purposeful pause is added before the next bit is enunciated slowly. "With Ivan."

There are sooo many possible responses to make. About 99% of them are disallowed by the rules of She Who Holds the Water-Gun. This leads to a long, long silence while Shelby looks sea-green murder up at the woman before her. "You /are/ fu--crazy," she growls--actually /growls/. Like...well, like a pissed-off cat. Who's been shot with a stream of water more than once and is now backed into a corner. Jennifer is right about the enemy part! Whether that will change...

"You can't do that! I don't /got/ an offensive power like the rest!" she yowls when her sentence is heard. "You can't put me in a room with /Ivan/ either! Nuh uh, no way. You are one fucking psycho bitch and /I'm/ gonna go see the Professor 'cause this is /not fair/." There is a hint of her phobia driving her into this, enough that it sends her out of the seat and pelting for the door. Go ahead, shoot her! She's forgotten about the gun!

Watching Shelby rise and head for the door, Jennifer turns her back to the desk and leans against it casually. By the looks of it, she is a touch disappointed that Shelby has decided to run off, albeit she veils any actual emotion behind a veil of disapproval. "Ivan won't have his bugs and spiders with him", she informs the fleeing teen. "You will /have/ to redo Power and Social Responsibility, probably alongside a younger generation of nerds. I am giving you the unique chance to cheat the punishment of /cheating/."

Although it depends on Shelby's speed, it's likely the fiery-haired teenager would by the door by now. "Xavier won't." At this point, Jennifer ignores Shelby, seemingly assuming that her words will not stop Shelby. The drenched homework is grabbed and carried towards the teacher desk.

Shelby /is/ fast. She is by the door. But there she stops--assured of a rapid exit seems to make her more willing to listen, at least. With her hand on the doorknob, she turns to glare at the older woman. "You think I'm gonna get all wet and grateful 'cause you're throwing me in the Danger Room, you got another thing coming." But...she doesn't argue having to go. "I got detention," she grumbles immediately instead, twisting the door open to make good on that escape she'd bolted towards.