ax_main | Betsy and Cal

A random run-in goes remarkably well, until it really, really doesn't.

Cal was outside playing with Abs, who had taken to the concept of fetch with a passion. It was all she wanted to do these days, whenever they took a walk. Good thing there were many good sticks out on Xavier's grounds, just waiting to be picked up by an overly enthusiastic puppy, thrown about, then picked up again.

By now, the pup was growing into her adolescent phase, but she had yet to really start challenging Cal the way everything he'd read on the subject said she would. Fine by him; she could take her time before she tested him. For his part, he was enjoying their walks as much as ever, especially with the weather still so hot and sunny. He'd worked up a very decent golden tan, due to spending so much time shirtless outside, and Clint's healing preventing him from getting sunburns.

A figure emerged from the woods nearby, easily recognizable even from a distance. Hey there, Cal thought towards Betsy, while they were still too far to talk.

Hello there, stranger, she replied easily. She had gone on a run, winding through the woods and enjoying the opportunity to keep fit outdoors while the weather was nice. Even with her hair pulled back, and despite being dressed in running shorts and a sweat-wicking sports bra, she still felt a bit damp with sweat. Still, as he'd spoken to her first, Betsy supposed Cal did not think he would be overly bothered by evidence of her exertion. She drew nearer, and smiled. "It seems I am not the only girl who thought it a nice day to get out of doors."

Abs barked in excitement as Betsy jogged over, running over to her and very nearly tripping her up. Cal smiled at his dog. "To be fair, she thinks every day is a nice day to get out of doors."

Betsy knelt down, petting the excitable puppy. "Bright girl," she said. "Pretty too, aren't you?"

"And she knows it," Cal confirmed. Prettier still since Caleb had given Cal - and Abs - that blue collar she sported.

Betsy chuckled. "Never undervalue yourself, there's a good girl," she assured the dog. She looked up at Cal, "How did you two find one another?"

"Clint found her litter out in a barn, with their mom," Cal explained, stepping a little closer, a hand in his pocket. "He took me there once, and Lucky - his pup - had been trampled. I portaled us back here, and Abs stepped through with us."

With one last pat on the pup's head, Betsy stood. It was momentarily disconcerting, as it always was, as her brain took the microsecond to explain to itself why she was not taller. "Did Lucky made it through alright, then?" Since Cal was speaking of him in the present tense, she would guess so.

"Minus one eye, but Pike managed to heal the worst of it," Cal confirmed.

"Wonderful." She she said, with a genuine smile at the dog's good fortune. "Are you two enjoying your afternoon then?"

"It's a quiet, sunny day," Cal answered with a half smile. Unlike the smiles she had last seen of him, it wasn't 'half' because it was forced, but because he had always had a tendency to go for smirks and half-smiles, when he wasn't outright grinning. "What's not to enjoy?"

She considered him a moment, taking in the easy expression, his more relaxed posture, and his golden hue. "It suits you," Betsy decided.

There was a hint of unease in his chest when she simply looked at him, but he ignored it and answered, "Well, you can take the boy out of California..."

"A California boy, huh? There you have it then," she said, chuckling. "Where in the golden state?"

"Santa Rosa?" he offered, although he didn't expect her to know it. "Of a height with Sacramento, but nearer the coast."

"Wine country?" Betsy asked. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she was uncertain. "I spent some time in Los Angeles and San Francisco, and my agent took us out to...Sonoma County? Was that it? Wine country, she said." Betsy recounted.

"Yeah, that's us," Cal confirmed with a nod. "Did you do a winery tour?" Wine tour would've sounded more appealing, but, well, underage.

"We did. My agent was always most accommodating. And the wine was divine," she said, with a mischievous smile.

Cal chuckled, then shrugged. "I never developed a taste for it." He would have beer or tequila over wine, any day. "What did you do, that you had an agent?"

"Ah, well, I am happy to try and change your perceptions of it sometime," she offered. Her tone was light, and friendly rather than flirtatious. Not that she minded in the least taking a nice long look at Cal, but she would rather be his friend than accidentally torment the man. "And I was a model, when I was younger." And taller, richer, blonder...she left those bits out for the moment though.

"Sweet," Cal remarked. "Like, runways and stuff?"

She nodded. "Some fashion magazines, as well." Since he'd not commented on the fact she was certainly too short for such work, she did not either. "It was fun." Mostly, anyhow.

Cal might not have grown up with a female presence, but he still knew better than to tell a girl she was not as tall or as skinny as he expected her chosen profession to require. Besides, he knew shit all about modeling. Maybe it was a thing people assumed, wrongly. Or maybe it was different for Asian models? He had no idea. "I bet it was, if it took you wine-touring."

"Wine, make-up, and clothes." And body-shaming, diuretics, laxatives, and nicotine. "The perks. I wish I had spent more time in California. What I saw was beautiful."

"It really is," Cal confirmed, crouching down to pick up the stick Abs had just brought over. He straightened up and threw it, watching her run after it. "Did you make it to the coast at all? I miss the ocean."

She shook her head 'no.' "Are the beaches nice there?"

"They're fucking amazing," Cal confirmed with a small smile, and crouched down to pick up the stick Abs dropped at his feet. "Water's hella cold, though. I don't recommend them for swimming unless you're used to that." He threw the stick again.

"I fear the last time I went to a beach I was in the Caribbean, so I will take that warning to heart," she promised, smiling back easily. Betsy watched as the dog ran after her quarry. "It's really something, the pure joy of an animal at play."

"Yeah," Cal said, quietly. He owed so much to Abs. "She's been pretty awesome." To say the least.

"She's lovely," Betsy offered. "And I can tell she makes you happy."

"She makes me better," Cal replied, before he could think better of it.

She looked at him seriously, before cocking an eyebrow and offering, "you weren't so bad before, just person to person." He really hadn't been. "But if she makes you better from your own perspective...that's good. What matters is how we perceive ourselves, yeah?"

Hopefully not, Cal thought, but he knew better than to say it, this time. "Something like that," he agreed, with a small smile. "What about you? Made up your mind about this place?"

"Mmm," she hummed softly. "It's almost too quiet. It's taking some getting used to."

Cal looked surprised. "Some days it's all I can do to keep everybody's voices out." Things were rarely quiet, he had found out, when you were a telepath. Even less so in a school full of hormonal teenagers, he figured. Good thing even a watered down version of Xavier's telepathy meant very strong shields.

Loud, ornery, and horny teenagers they might all be, but Betsy's natural shields were strong, and her trained ones stronger. When she intentionally eavesdropped it could get a bit chaotic, but she did that less here than she had done at STRIKE. Which was not the only difference. "I suppose I grew used to going out more often."

"What's stopping you?" Cal asked, as Abs brought the stick back to him again.

She shrugged a bit. "I was working, before I came here, rather than going to school. So I traveled for that." Working as a telepathic operative was, for now, something she was still not just tossing about - habit and all - but that she and Pete had not exactly been attending regular classes was likely to come out one way or another. "I'm just not used to...not doing that, I suppose."

Cal assumed she just meant being a model, and he figured that came with a lot of traveling. "That makes sense. Have you been on campus since you got here?" He probably should have known the answer, but he kinda made it a point to avoid people, for the most part, so no, he had no idea.

Betsy nodded. "Not in class, but just...around."

"Any reason why?" Cal asked, a little cautiously. He remembered that someone had tried to kill her. Just because she'd made it sound like it was in the past didn't mean that it was in the past in her mind. He would know - even if things were different, with the Right still out there.

"Once you've seen the potential dangers that are out there, it can be hard to unsee," Betsy mused in response. Assassins. Psychic operatives and national security threats. All those things were there. She'd even participated in them. It made one...cautious. Something, she suspected, Cal understood perfectly well. "Besides, I've not yet established a cover identity, and as as far as the media has made known, I am deceased. I would hate to startle people."

"...that's a good reason," Cal confirmed, a little evenly. He wasn't sure how else to react to that. As for the first part of her answer, he got it a little too well, even if one of the dangers was, well. Himself. He was working on that.

Abs nosed at his ankle with an unhappy whine, and he realized he'd been ignoring the stick she'd brought back. "Sorry, girl," he told her, petting her as he picked up the stick to throw it again.

"Have you gone out exploring?" Betsy asked, looking over at him curiously.

"Not much," he replied with a shake of his head. "I kinda have my own - hangups." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, then figured he might as well tell her. She'd hear about it at one point or another, anyway. He looked away from Abs, and back at Betsy, as he asked, "You heard about the Right? They had me, for like, a year." Not as bad as others. Still pretty fucking bad, though.

Her ear to the ground as it was, both telepathically and otherwise, Betsy had suspected as much. "I imagine that would make anyone cautious."

Cal gave her a dry half smile. "I think the word is paranoid."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," she said good-naturedly, smiling back. "If you weren't cautious after all that, I'd wonder at your mental health."

Wonder away, Cal thought, but didn't say. There was more than one reason to wonder, and he hit several of those, he found, even if not a lack of caution. "But I'm getting better, anyway. No one wants to stay stuck at school 24/7 for too long."

She nodded. "I'm already going a bit stir-crazy myself, and you've been here longer than I," Betsy agreed. "Have you gone out at all?"

"Yeah, I took Abs to the City," Cal confirmed. "It was her first time. She kinda freaked out at all the cars for a minute, but then she was fine." She was adaptable in a way he could never hope to be.

She smiled genuinely at his pride for the pup. "What did the two of you see?" She did not know Salem Center particularly well yet, but New York at least was not lacking for options.

"Oh, we didn't hit any of the tourist stuff," Cal replied with a shake of his head. "We just walked around Alphabet City, went to a bookstore. Nothing major."

"Ah, then I suppose the real question is what books you selected," Betsy said.

"The visit wasn't for me," Cal admitted, "I still had a few books left before I needed new stuff." Although he should schedule another bookstore run soon enough. Maybe ask Caleb if he wanted to come with.

"So who was it for?" As she doubted it had been for the dog, sweet though she was.

"This girl, she used to go here," Cal replied, honestly not sure how to describe Illyana, but figuring that about covered it.

Betsy nodded in understanding, and chose not to pry - verbally or otherwise - given his choice to be vague. "Sounds like a chill trip to the city then."

"Pretty much," he agreed. "It was nice." Surprisingly so. He hadn't been certain he wouldn't freak out and cut things short at one point or another. That was the beauty of teleportation, really.

She smiled. "Good." It seemed like he'd had little to call 'nice' for quite awhile.

"Yeah," Cal confirmed, and threw the stick again. "I'm glad I went. You should, too. Go out, I mean. If you're getting restless."

"I am sure I will, sooner or later." Betsy said, nodding a little. "The grounds are nice, but there is no where here to shop for shoes."

Cal chuckled at that. "I was about offer some company, but maybe not, after all."

She smirked, amused, "My scintillating company cannot overcome shoe shopping?"

Cal made an apologetic face as he shook his head. "I'm not sure what would, honestly."

"I'm certain I should be offended," she teased gently. "However, as I've a brother that always seemed to regard shopping as one of the twelve labors, I will let it go."

"I guess it depends what you're shopping for," Cal admitted. "But women's shoes? Not really my jam."

"What would be your jam?" Betsy asked curiously.

"Sports shoes?" he offered with a bit of a lopsided smile. He crouched down again to pet Abs, who'd been nosing at his ankles. He might be currently wearing flip flops, his true loves were probably still sneakers. Whenever he got a hold of his father's money, he might even be able to afford some decent ones again. So far, he'd gone for cheap and practical.

She smiled back. "Ah, but for which sports?"

"Basketball," he answered without missing a beat. It was weird, like that collar Caleb had given Abs had allowed him to finally reconnect with his love for the sport, with the little basketballs embossed in the leather. And he didn't even remember mentioning it to Caleb. The guy was beyond thoughtful. "And, I guess, also for no sports at all?"

Hey, sneakers were a valid option for everyday shoes, too.

"Basketball fan then?" She asked. "And far be it from me to suggest sneakers are not appropriate attire for many purposes."

"Trying to get back into it," he answered with a small shrug.

"Can't imagine there's much trouble finding people to play with, here." Not given the number of students and how strikingly fit some of them were.

"I haven't really - tried that hard, yet," Cal admitted, gaze cutting away to Abs. "You wanna walk a while? Abs is getting restless."

"Sure," Betsy said easily. She got the sense Abs wasn't the only one. It would do her some good too; now that they had stood talking for awhile, her muscles were growing a touch stiff in their post-run state. She took a step back and stretched a bit as they began their walk.

"What about you, any interest in sports?" Cal asked, for something to say, as they started walking with the dog. He didn't count jogging as a sport, no.

"Football, er, soccer," she corrected herself. "Martial arts."

"Oh yeah?" Cal looked at her, clearly curious. He figured if she'd just learned self-defense because of whoever had tried to kill her, she wouldn't have answered that to his question. So it felt like safe enough territory. "Which ones?"

She smiled slightly, oddly pleased to have visibly piqued his curiosity. "Aikido, judo, and taekwando," Betsy said. Newer interests, as compared to football, but ones STRIKE had been all too happy to nurture.

"Why those three?" Cal asked.

Betsy was quiet for a moment, collecting and ordering her thoughts. "I like that aikido and judo focus on putting your opponent off balance, and using their momentum against them." Plus, they were Japanese, and she felt somewhat obligated to pay homage to poor Kwannon. "Taekwondo focuses on kicks, and speed, which play more to my body type than upper body strikes."

"Well, remind me never to piss you off," Cal remarked. It was the sort of thing he would have said, before, and he was glad to be able to say it again - even if part of him wasn't seeing the humor in it at all, and reminding him that any combat between them was unlikely to be physical.

She chuckled. "I'm not exactly the type to settle differences on the mat, anyway."

"Where are you the type to settle them?" Cal asked, looking over at her curiously.

She smirked and winked at him, though not with any real intent. "Oh, such beautiful bait. But rather than taking it, I will say I prefer to settle differences verbally."

Cal only realized at her wink what his words sounded like, and was surprised to find heat rising to his face. "Sorry," he said, instead of being any kind of smooth about it. What the fuck, Rankin. "I mean - I don't know." He grimaced, and rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. "I think I lost my smooth somewhere."

Betsy very gently nudged him with her elbow. He seemed genuinely distressed, despite the fetching blush. "I was just teasing you, nothing to apologize for or be smooth about, Cal."

Already on edge, Cal naturally eased away from her elbow once it made contact, taking a step to the side and then naturally keeping walking. "Sure. Yeah." He wanted to apologize again, and forced himself not to. Still, "I used to be better at social interactions." Which was a confession, really, and as soon as it left his lips, he wondered why he had let it.

"Life has a way of changing people," her in a more literal sense, but no less of a change it seemed for Cal. "Better how?"

Fuck, why had he said anything at all? Cal's shoulders were slightly hunched now, his entire frame betraying his tension. "Just, yanno. Better. Conversations didn't trip me up the way they do now." He paused, then added, almost under his breath, "I used to be able to take touch."

Betsy looked at him, no expectation or judgment in her expression, but cautious empathy. "It can be hard to relearn to be who you were. Or to build yourself anew."

Why the fuck had he said that? Now she was looking at him with pity, and he wanted to blink himself twenty feet deep into the earth. "Yeah," he agreed, because what else was he going to say. "But, you know. Time and shit." Time was supposed to make it better, and he had been getting better. Slowly. Gradually.

Betsy looked at him for another long moment, and then reached to get her phone. She typed on it rapid fire and then, with a deep breath, held it out to him. Her browser contained a simple image search for 'Betsy Braddock model.' The screen was awash with pictures of a beautiful girl, tall, lithe, with bright blue eyes and thick, well-coiffed blonde hair.

Present Betsy loooked up from where her eyes had lingered on Past Betsy, dark eyes almost liquid as she met Cal's. "It's not the same, but I do know a small something about what it is like to not be able to go back to who you were."

Cal's own eyes were full of confusion as they met Betsy's, once he looked away from the pictures. "How...?"

She shrugged, the movement surprisingly awkward. "She, I, was dying. So I...jumped ship, as it were."

Was that something they could do? Cal looked as startled as he felt. He couldn't even begin to figure out the ramifications of something like this. "How did that save you, if she was dying too?"

"My body, my old body, was dying," Betsy explained. She would have preferred not to, but the die was now cast. "Kwannon's," she gestured at herself. "Wasn't."

Cal's look turned to dawning horror now. "What about her?"

Betsy closed her eyes at his face, she knew the potential of doing what she had was monstrous, that she might even be a monster. She did not require the confirmation. But was not what she suspected Cal envisioned. Still with eyes shut, she slowly shook her head. "She was gone."

"You pushed her out?" His tone was even, too even.

She looked up and glared daggers at him; he'd no right to judge what she had been forced to do. "I didn't need to. Her consciousness was gone."

Cal's all too empty expression shifted into wariness at her anger, and he stepped away, instinctively. He felt awful now, and not for reasons he could easily, or happily, identify. "Okay." He couldn't question her right now. He could barely breathe.

Betsy shook her head a bit, to clear it. "Nevermind. I've interrupted your private time, haven't I? I should let you get back to it," she offered, sounding more tired than offended. She had been honest, and look where it had got her; it was these times she appreciated Pete's brusque disregard of what it had taken to get her to where she was, and Warren's willingness to simply gloss over it all. This was exhausting.

"Okay," he said again, stepping closer to Abs, who was just looking at him. This wasn't - she wasn't - get it together, Rankin. "Sorry."

"Don't be. You're far from the first and won't be the last." She wrapped her arms around her middle. "Enjoy your afternoon."

"It's not - yeah," Cal cut himself off and finished, lamely. He wasn't in any state to deal with this, right now, not with his heart still pounding so hard. It had been so long since he'd freaked out over nothing, and he was angry with himself, which only added a layer of complexity to how high his emotions were running. "You too."

She nodded shortly and, without saying anything else, jogged off. Maybe wearing herself out would make this more palatable.