17717/Having an Identity Crisis

Having an Identity Crisis
Date of Scene:	21 April 2024
Location:	Sion - Office
Synopsis:	Rachel puts Betsy's mind at ease about who is the Real Betsy, mainly by agreeing to have them both see the Professor. Or Jean, which won't be weird, honest.
Cast of Characters:	Betsy Braddock, Rachel Summers

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Betsy Braddock has posed:
It's been a stressful couple of days, despite the best efforts of Kwannon, though thankfully for both of them she's been busy with her own sense of discovery. Which has left Betsy time to brood as she considers the arrival of someone who could arguably be /her/.

But she's not her, right? She's Betsy, not Kwannon. Right?

And thus the doubt has set in, leaving her brooding and in a properly horrible mood. Though right now she's in her private sanctum at the nightclub, a drink in front of her as she should probably be meditating... but focus isn't exactly coming easily to her at the moment.

Rachel Summers has posed:
Questions of identity are difficult. Rachel Summers should know, even if hers are of a different breed.

There's nothing worse than the open, unanswered question of who - or what - you are.

She can feel the sour mood that's seized Betsy Braddock well before she reaches the door to the nightclub proprietor's office; it's why she's -here- in the first place, after all. Psychic bonds are convenient - and sometimes inconvenient - like that. She pauses at the threshold for a brief second, frowning at the conflicted sensation prickling at her brain, before a fingerless gloved hand lowers for the door.

But its the little flicker of psychic flames around Betsy's drink that announces Rachel's presence first, lifting that glass up into the air with a thought as the redheaded dystopian refugee opens that door with a tentative look bordering between 'trying to respect Betsy's privacy' and 'concern.'

"Need a refill?" she wonders, as that glass hovers in the air like an offer.

"You look like you need a refill."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Betsy smiles warmly over at Rachel, "Hey luv... guess my feelings weren't terribly subtle, were they?" She chuckles a bit, "And only if you're joining me, I think I've drank enough by myself that I shouldn't unless I have company."

She pauses, "Just... been a strange couple of days, even by our standards." Oh boy, when you put it like that...

Rachel Summers has posed:
"People tell me that's when you know you have a problem."

It's a dry joke Rachel offers, coated with that understated worry. Still, the redhead doesn't press until Betsy herself chooses to bring up the topic of her current mood ringing so loud and clear between their little communion. It's a respect for privacy that sees Rachel instead making her way towards Betsy's desk as a second glass is mentally plucked up off shelf.

She's settling into a seat on the desktop itself a foot from Betsy, even as she starts mentally mixing them both a pair of drinks -- whatever Betsy had been having earlier. When the violet-haired woman chooses to share that news, Rachel's brows lift fractionally.

"Well... fuck," she surmises. A second passes, as liquor pours.

"... You wanna talk about it?"

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Betsy smiles, "Yeah, I think I do. I think I need to, just to someone that might understand what's going on." She sighs, and takes a deep breath, "So. A few years ago, I was kidnapped by the Hand. They did some sort of... mystical ritual, to try and take my life and bind it to one of their assassins. But it was interrupted and something went awry."

She pauses, and looks over at Rachel, "I got these looks, mirrored from her blended with mine, as well as all her memories along with my own. I didn't think she had survived... but she did. She showed up the other night, claiming to be me. Or rather, us. Or... it's confusing. Amazingly we didn't end up fighting, as she wanted to get to the bottom of this too."

Rachel Summers has posed:
A frown creases the lips of Betsy's redheaded guest as she explains the - very complicated - circumstances surrounding her and Kwannon. Rachel only knew the Betsy from her time passingly before everything went wrong, but the broad strokes of what Betsy says sound familiar to her. Palms planting on the desk's surface, Rachel draws in a little breath.

A lifetime living in hell, if nothing else, helps her to deal with bad, complicated news. It's not a blessing. But it helps.

"Yeah," she begins, "... that's a mess."

A mental tweak. And two cocktails float back their way, both into Rachel's hands -- if only so that she can set hers aside, bend at the waist, and offer Betsy her drink personally.

It's an excuse to gently squeeze the other woman's hand in her own as the drink is exchanged, to let her know, without word but with clear sentiment, Rachel's here for her.

"So, the two of you both have each other's memories," she says as she passes off that drink. "First, and most important... how're you taking all this? Taking her?" She obviously has an idea of it; it's why she's here. But, well... she needs to hear it from Betsy. And talking through these things, even things as bizarre and troubling as this... it can help.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Betsy chuckles, "Well, honestly, we both think we're Betsy... but honestly, I'm not sure how we can tell for sure. Charles maybe could do it, or Jean, to determine who is who. All I have is that, on the astral plane, I still project as my old body, before the changes." She pauses, "Not sure if she does that too, though."

She takes the drink and smiles up at Rachel, "Overall though, she really wants to be like a sister, which... well, I suppose that she is. Regardless of what happens, I think she does want what's best for both of us, and so do I." She grins, "Besides, I have you with me right now, so at least one thing is definitely going right." Taking Rachel's hand, she squeezes it lightly, scooting over on the couch to make room for her.

Rachel Summers has posed:
Rachel arches a brow as Betsy lists off possible psychics to help out. She lifts that glass to her lips and sips slowly.

"Uh huh," she says dryly. "If only there were some more extraordinarily powerful telepaths around. Too bad."

Not to toot her own horn, Rachel just clucks her tongue instead.

That teasing aside, though, a little smirk tugs at the corner of Rachel's lips as Betsy offers up that little compliment. "What a charmer. That's the Betsy I know." Hand taken, her fingers lace with Betsy's and squeeze in affectionate return; she releases that grip if only to inelegantly flop onto that couch next to Betsy, bouncing on the cushions once with the impact before settling in. Miraculously, she doesn't spill a -drop- of her drink. The power of the mind in action.

"Regardless of who you are, you're the one I want to be beside right now," Rachel offers, voice a little murmur in Betsy's ear.

"Seriously though. I think the Professor's a good choice. He probably has the most experience navigating this kinda thing," she offers; she loops her arm around Betsy's shoulders, squeezing fingers around her bicep as she settles in against the violet-haired woman's side, legs tucked up underneath her on top of the couch cushions. "M-- ... Jean and I know what we're doing, but the Professor -- he's spent decades longer than any of us helping people with problems like these. The astral form's a good first step. It's worth looking into."

A few seconds of silence pass by; Rachel hesitates within them, before she asks, "... Do you trust her? That she wants to be like a sister, that she doesn't have any ulterior motives?"

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Betsy laughs, "Well, I mean, aside from us. I know we're powerful telepaths, but we're also a little biased in that regard." She winks over at Rachel, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek, "Thanks luv, I needed to hear that."

She pauses, "And I think... she's on the level. I mean, we're not the /same/ if only because we've had different experiences since the 'merger'." She makes a face at that. "But overall, she was reacting to things the way I would, so I think she's on the level." She smiles a bit at Rachel, "I don't have that good a poker face."

Rachel Summers has posed:
"Anytime you need, babe," is Rachel's glowing promise, tilting into that little kiss.

The rest, though, draws her to a thoughtful pause. Brows furrowing and lips pursing, she considers what Betsy has to say. Ultimately, she arrives at, "Well... if you think she's above board, then that's alright." She says the words, and to a certain degree she means them, but -- there's the slightest lack of commitment there. She can't help it; it's the circumstances she lived in. Trust is a thing that doesn't come easy to her. Especially in situations like this.

So, she just turns her head, presses a kiss to Betsy's temple, and offers, "Just be careful, alright? And if you need any help, even if it's just a person to enable you to drink your ass off... I'm always a telepathic ring away."

A sardonic little smile curls at Rachel's lips after a moment. "You're right, though. Your poker face is shit," she teases.

"We should play cards sometime."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Betsy grins, "Well, I think Ben Grimm is still doing his poker nights... we'll have to see about crashing that sometime." She pauses, and gives Rachel a sidelong look, "But that's later. Right now, I have something else in mind other than cards..." And what, exactly, that is... is pretty obvious through the link, as she's definitely glad to see Rachel here.