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Date of Scene: 03 January 2022
Location: Medical Center - Themysciran Embassy
Synopsis: Morgan slacks off in bed when there's work to be done.
Cast of Characters: Morgan Finn, Alexander Aaron

Morgan Finn has posed:
The medical center in the embassy is very high-tech but small. There are just a few beds, each equipped with its own multi-system monitor to keep track of a patient's vital signs and internal goings-on, and with a crash cart in case of the worst-case scenario. Today, only one bed is occupied. Morgan Finn lies covered in blankets, wearing just a hospital gown. A cannula is under his nose feeding him supplemental oxygen, an IV drips saline into his arm, and a small clicker lies on the bed next to his hand that will administer morphine if his pain is too much. The monitor next to the bed shows someone with slightly elevated heart and respiratory rates and a blood pressure a bit on the low side.

Morgan himself seems a bit pale. He has deep shadows under his eyes -- indicators of a basilar skull fracture. But considering how he looked yesterday, it's quite miraculous. In the boy's other hand is a TV remote. Above the foot of his bed is a TV playing a Browns v. Steelers game. He's watching it with hooded, half-opened eyes.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    It's as the Browns quarterback overthrows yet /another/ receiver that the door to the med room is opened, allowing entrance to a figure in a heavy coat that strolls inside with a casual gait. Just a silhouette on the other side of the drawn curtain perhaps, moving toward the corner of the room where a chair rests.
    That chair is taken in hand to scraaaaape along the floor as the figure wanders on up and sweeps the curtain aside revealing that is a familiar individual.
    "Hey man," The chair is brought around, still scraping on the floor and then turned to place its back facing Morgan. He drops into the seat, chest against the back of the chair and him straddling it as he rests his arms along the back and then his chin on his hands.
    "You up to telling me what went down?"

Morgan Finn has posed:
Morgan's eyes follow Alexander as he opens the curtain. There is, at once, both an expression of relief to see Alex again and sense of dread in Morgan's eyes. This is an expected visit and sooner or later he was surely going to have to explain his reckless actions to his cousin. The fledgeling demigod reaches over to the stand next to his bed and picks up a glass of ice water with a straw stuck in it. He sips a goodly amount of the water before putting it back.

"Nice to see you too," he says, his voice a bit strained and weak, but otherwise in control.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The smile that touches Alexander's features is a warm thing, perhaps a hint of exasperation for some reason, but still his mood is positive. He keeps those forearms crossed on the back of the chair, his chin resting there as those curious hazel eyes of his keep watch on the bed-ridden demi-god.
    A moment, he bites his lower lip in thought, eyebrows rising. "Is that a yes or a no?"
    A beat, then he adds. "I mean cool if not. But I figure I'll eventually hear it one way or another. Best to go straight to the horse's mouth and all."

Morgan Finn has posed:
"You're a horse!" he manages. Yep, that's still Morgan in there.

The demigod hits the mute button, leaving some Ohio football players to embarrass themselves silently. "Me and Freddy were downtown walkin' around. It was the last day of winter break and the weather was pretty decent. Then this dude just lost it, like started to mutate into something."

The story is perhaps agitating him because he grips the morphine trigger and clicks it. But nothing happens. He already had some an hour ago and the machine won't give him more just yet. The monitor shows a 10 BPM increase in his heart rate. So he settles for sipping some more ice water.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Alright," Alexander seems entirely unphased by the idea of someone mutating in the middle of a normal day, since... well... it's New York. He looks at the morphine and for some reason his brow knits a little, then he looks back to Morgan.
    "Then what happened?"

Morgan Finn has posed:
Morgan clears his throat lightly. "So this thing started like going berserk. I told Freddy we should help. But then shit got out of control too fast so I tried to get out of there. Next thing I know, this superhero dude named Pantheon shows up." Right there! That's the lie! Morgan is a shitty liar and he just told a lie right there. He may as well be wearing an "I'm a Liar" T-shirt. "And he started to take this thing down. Like he was handling it."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Tilting his head to the side and looking almost like a quizzical canine, the other Olympian just looks at Morgan levelly for a time. Just this steady and calm gaze that holds the same calm wisdom as the Sphinx were one to encounter such. Then there's a sloooow blink as he nods a little. "Pantheon, cool."
    He lifts a hand from his arm and uncurls it forward as he murmurs, "So what happened then?"

Morgan Finn has posed:
The kid licks dry lips. Okay, we got past the lie and we're back in truth territory now. "So Pantheon told me to tend to the wounded. There was just this one lady. The mutated dude threw her against a building really hard. Honestly, I figured she was dead." Fingers absently roll the cord of the morphine trigger between anxious fingers. If Alexander wants this story he's going to have to pull teeth to get it.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    With a calm appraisal Alexander nods and rests his hand back atop his forearm, then in turn his chin on the back of them both. His eyebrows lift a little and he takes a deep breath, holds it, then exhales slowly as if trying to catch his breath even as his eyes distance for a moment.
    They return and refocus on Morgan and he murmurs, "So Pantheon showed up after this woman was injured. Do you feel you could have helped this woman before she was injured?"

Morgan Finn has posed:
Morgan shakes his head. He can't maintain the intensity of Alex's gaze so he looks...psh...anywhere but in that direction. It's shame now he displays on his features. Oh look, there's a football game on. Pittsburgh gets tagged for 10 yards for offensive pass interference. It won't matter. It's their game to lose at this point.

"No," he says softly. "The dude was massive, like a mini Hulk. It all went down so fast." The kid stares silently at the TV for several long beats. His glassy eyes indicate that there is a part of him that wants to cry but the anger and self-loathing has won the battle, leaving the tears inside. Besides, crying in front of Alexander seems...like bad policy. In a voice that is barely a whisper he says, "I turned to run."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    That same calm regard is there, those so pale eyes watchful. Thoughtful. He smiles slightly, perhaps a hint of pain in that expression, but then he nods as he perhaps accepts those words. There's no hint of doubt in him, or perhaps it's more he feels that what he's told is immaterial and that it is more important to address the state of matters.
    "That's part of the reason it's good to train. And the more conflicts you're in you'll be able to read the signs." Before things kick off. Before the violence starts. "You're going to need to train more. And though it is good to help those in need, it's never good in a combat situation to render yourself immobile or inactive. It's fortunate he didn't have friends, and that Pantheon was able to help you."

Morgan Finn has posed:
The kid finally turns his head back to look at Alex again. "I /do/ train. Every day. Seven days a week. And I didn't go looking for trouble. I mean, shit, Alex, we were just taking a walk and not even far from the embassy." His hand nearest Alex moves like Morgan is going to touch Alex. But he thinks better of it and leaves it there.

Instead he turns his face, burning with shame, to the television. "Please don't think ill of me, Alex. Anyone but you."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Tilting his head to the other side, Alexander's smile comes and it's an easily given thing. There's no disdain, no judgement, just the calm regard of the God of Fear. "Why would I think ill of you, Morgan?"
    A small shake of his head is given as he sits up, resting his chest still against the back of the chair, he loops his arms around the back and seems to hug the wooden surface to himself. "You grow and you learn. It's a good thing to have... compassion."
    There's a tilt of his head as if he's trying to draw on the right words. A breath is taken before he says, "You know about the Fates, right?"

Morgan Finn has posed:
Once the threat of tears has passed, Morgan once again dares to turn himself back toward Alexander. "For wanting to run. Once I saw what was going on, I tried to run. Like a fucking coward." Now anger has taken over. Oh the kaleidoscope of adolescent emotions multiplied by a hundred due to the blood of gods in Morgan's veins.

He shakes his head. "The Fates? I don't...are they like witches or something?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Ah," Cowardice. Alexander's eyes lower a little, then return as he pushes a hand through his hair and leaves his hand resting against the back of his neck. He gives a small smile and says calmly, "If you do feel you behaved in a cowardly manner, then recognize that in yourself, and fight to make it different the next time."
    Then he pauses and watches Morgan for a time, saying nothing more until the space of several heartbeats. Then abruptly he says, "The Fates. Are relatives. Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. The tale about them is that they control the fate of everyone in the world."
    He shakes his head slightly, "But that's not entirely true. They influence our family's lives. Not directly, but when a mortal comes near or associates with us... they gain some power over them. They weave threads of fate from their loom, each thread representing a person's life...
    He lifts a hand and gestures to the side, "When we meet someone it's said that their threads of fate overlap. And the stronger thread tends to fray the lesser."
    He makes a face, "But that's all bullshit to explain that because of who we are, people around us tend to die. And it's part of who we are."

Morgan Finn has posed:
Intently and with absolute focus Morgan listens to Alex's explanation. He gets so little formal education on family, and when he does he drinks it like a thirsty man drinks water. His gazes moves intently about Alex's face, watching expression and body language. Gone are thoughts about nervousness. Gone are thoughts about the morphine clicker. He just /listens/. Oddly -- and Alexander may or may not notice this -- the raccoon eyes on Morgan's face seem fainter now. His miraculous body is mending the skull fracture.

"Do you care about them?" Morgan asks bluntly. "The mortals?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    One eye scrunches up as Alexander meets Morgan's gaze, and it's clear the older Olympian is giving some stern thought to the words and what was asked of him. "I do, but perhaps not in the way you'd like me to?"
    He sits up straighter and looks to the side, as if on the wall of the infirmary there might be a treatise on display about how to explain such thoughts in an easy manner. He finds naught there so he looks back, "I care about those that are around me. The ones I have some investment in. The ones I like. I like them as they're fun and entertaining and beautiful and charming. Some enough to risk of myself."
    He slides that hand off the back of his neck and sets it on the chair again. "And if I saw a... school bus about to drop into a river I'd probably save it if I could, if only because if I didn't people would hassle me. Or they'd be sad and I wouldn't be able to do what I wished to."

Morgan Finn has posed:
"I'm a mortal, you know," Morgan continues. He crosses his arms over his chest -- and he winces slightly as he does, miracle body hasn't quite gotten around to the fractured ribs yet -- as he stares at that same blank wall. Sometimes eye contact is fucking hard and sometimes blank walls are easy friends.

"I'm going to age and get old and someday I'm going to die," he says matter-of-factly and with no self-pity. "Will you think about me when I'm gone?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "I'll remember you," Alexander offers, perhaps as if that was enough. "And your death might not be the end. Depends I imagine," As he looks thoughtfully again, only this time upwards as if seeking some reinforcement from above.
    He takes a deep breath, then rests his chin again on his arms and watches Morgan. "I'll remember you for a long time to come I imagine. And Diana will likely tell me in those years about you if you truly fall."
    Then he straightens up a little, "You should focus, however. On building your legacy. So none will forget you."

Morgan Finn has posed:
What's this? A legacy? This is literally the first time the fledgling demigod has even considered this possibility. Alexander found /exactly/ the right sweet spot. All the funk drains away from Morgan as he turns back toward Alex.

"My legacy?" he asks, hooked now. "What do you...do you mean by my legacy? Like for example?" He presses the button on the bed that raises the head up. As he rises he looks smugly at Alexander with an expression that might say 'You have to sit up manually, bitch!'

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "What you'll be remembered for. Why." Alexander answers easily enough. Though his lip twists up, "I mean, mine's all set. Youngest god, son of war, wielder of Grasscutter. Mortal until I took the mantle of Phobos. I got it made, baby." Oh those are arrogant things to say, and true. Yet his tone has a hint of self-deprecation even as he tilts his head.
    "Just so much of who and what we are is connected to the stories that grow around us. You need to build your story, and reach for that which you wish to be. You don't have a father to slap you around and keep you going. And I can't do that for you because it's not my role. You need to be your own ass-kicker."

Morgan Finn has posed:
Once Morgan is sitting upright in the hospital bed, he peers upward at the ceiling. "This is some serious shit," he says as much to himself as to Alexander. "My legacy."

With a slight wince, he reaches for his phone next to the hospital bed and clicks the voice recorder. "Notes, Morgan Finn's legacy..." he starts speaking into the phone. Kid's got a lot to work on tonight.