ax_main | Simon and Trowa - Backdated to Thursday

Simon gets a chance to do a reading on one of the newer students. It's an oddly unsettling encounter.

Trowa suspected he had overreacted to the dentist's comment. Between the strangeness of the whole experience and everything else going on in his life, it was little wonder he was losing perspective. But that was no excuse to be sloppy. He'd have to exercise better judgement next time.

But for now, there was no harm in being sure. Such were his thoughts as he knocked on the door of room 105.

Simon opened the door, dressed crisply in slacks, a button down, and a mutely decorated waistcoat. "Yes?"

Trowa regarded him impassively. "I'm looking for Simon Tam."

"You've found him." Simon stepped back to let him in. "You must be the new student."

"One of them. Trowa Barton." Trowa glanced around the room in mild curiosity; he hadn't been inside any dorm except his own. Both sides of this room were almost as full of possessions as Quatre's. And there was a very different bed installed on the right-hand side. Noted and filed away. Not important currently. "You said you could examine me for defects."

Simon gave a nod and closed the door behind him. "I would like to explain a little bit about my power first, however, if that's alright with you."

Trowa cocked his head to one side, puzzled at why he need to know anything except the results, but nodded.

Simon moved to kick his ottoman out from under his bed, then grabbed Jean-Paul's desk chair. "Please, have a seat."

Trowa took a seat on the ottoman, settling himself gracefully, though with no hint of relaxation. The dark-haired boy on the opposite bed looked up from his book and over at Simon.

"Want me to take off?"

One glance at Jean-Paul and Simon wanted to tell him he never wanted him out of his sight. That, however, was hormones talking. He glanced at Trowa. "Do you mind my roommate being present?"

"Yes." He didn't care for being outnumbered.

Jean-Paul rolled his eyes, but sat up. "Everyone here has their secrets, I guess." He closed his book and stretched. "I'll be in the gym."

As soon as Jean-Paul was gone, Simon took a seat across from Trowa, offering a slight smile. "My power is all encompassing. When I touch you, I'll get a sense for the entirety of your physiology, down to your DNA. This means I will also get a sense for any injuries, current or sometimes past."

"I'm not afraid of knowing my past," Trowa said levelly. "I'm not afraid of you knowing about it either."

Simon gave a nod. "Good enough." Then he held out his hand, allowing Trowa to decide where he felt comfortable with a touch. The boy reached out without hesitation, putting his hand over Simon's. The usual flood of information came with the touch: Trowa was underweight, but in general good health (and his teeth were fine). His hair was coarser than human hair, almost the texture of a horse's mane; part of his mutation. His old injuries... were numerous. No bones completely broken, but many cracked at one point or another. Cuts. A few burns. Hard callouses on his hands and feet.

After a moment, he took a breath and took his hand away. "Well, be at ease - your teeth are just fine, as is the rest of your body." For the most part.

"Understood. Thank you." Trowa stood. "What do I owe you?"

Simon was caught off guard for a moment, staring at the boy. Then he took a breath. "Nothing. My duty is to other mutants."

Trowa frowned at the reaction. "What?"

"I don't require compensation," Simon told him slowly, so he would understand. "You don't owe me."

"I understood that part. Why were you staring at me?"

"Oh." Simon inwardly kicked himself. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I've just never been asked that question before."

"Hn." Trowa didn't comment on Simon's rudeness; it didn't matter to him. He simply nodded and headed for the door.

"You've lead a hard life," Simon said as the boy walked away. "It may be difficult to get used to Xavier's. Do you have anyone you can talk to?"

"Xavier has me in therapy, if that's what you mean. He doesn't think I'm a danger to anyone here."

"I was talking about, I suppose, a friend," Simon told him.

"I knew Tessa, briefly, before I came here." Trowa had an idea that Quatre would claim friendship with him in a heartbeat if asked, but he wasn't sure how he felt about that yet. "But no, I don't know anyone that well yet."

"Well, if you have any questions, or just need to talk to someone, I'm available," Simon told him. Look at him, making an effort to make friends.

"I need to learn what I need to do to blend in," Trowa said. "Can you tell me about that?"

"Ah." Simon frowned. "No, probably not. Tessa might be a better resource."

Trowa considered him. "What are you good at, as a friend?"

That was a slap to the face, even though he had an inkling that Trowa might be speaking in terms of resources. Still, the question hit him hard, and Simon could only stammer, "I - I suppose - in- intellectual advice."

Another moment of that expressionless regard, then Trowa nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for the reading."

Simon gave a short nod, standing and pushing Jean-Paul's chair back into place. "It's what I'm good for."