Owner	Pose
Mystique	Sometimes, being the one in charge of everything meant making choices and decisions you didn't like, and Mystique had been faced with one of those today. Two scent trackers and one eagle eye had come to her regarding Nicolai's wounds, and left her with no choice. When you run something as large at the Brotherhood and are responsible for the lives of every single person who called themselves a part of, rules get set into place to protect everyone, from the smartest most clever mutant, to that moron in the corner picking his nose. Knocking lightly on Nicolai's door, Mystique waited. She already knew this was going to go badly, but it was the only choice possible.
Nicolai Codona	The first indication that Mystique is correct in her decision is the way the door gets 'answered'. It flies open all by its lonesome, an indication that Nicolai probably does have more control over his telekinesis than even he knows, since the only time he really seems to have that control is when he's PISSED... or sometimes when he's frightened.     It's not Nicolai she's facing when the door opens, it's Haunt. Glowing eyes, now red rather than their usual aqua-blue flash fiercely. Maybe not to Mystique, but to just about anyone else, the dude's scary when he's angry. "What..." he grits out between clenched teeth thanks to the tightness in his jaw. "...have you come to 'ground' me in person?"     Pictures on the walls rattle, a few of them fall and shatter, but not a single piece of his musical equipment moves or is damaged.
Mystique	Mystique looks calm, her usual collected and smooth self, not even ruffled really, on the exterior. Inside is another matter that only the powerful mind readers would ever be able to get to. "I came to talk," she says plainly, watching the paintings shaking. She was certainly glad that this place was monitored by Erik, and impossible to destroy. "Unless you'd rather stay, as you said, grounded... not my words."
Nicolai Codona	When he laughs, it comes out as more a sardonic chuckling growl than anything else. "Are you really that full of yourself that you think you can keep me 'grounded'," he asks, but he doesn't wait for an answer. He continues, taking one step closer and then another. His voice lowers, still holding a dangerous, angry edge. "You may have helped me avenge my father and for that I owe you a debt, but that debt is not my *servitude*. I am *not* yours to control." A few more pictures fall from the wall, one flies across the room narrowly missing Mystique's head.     "He would roll over in his grave were I ever to allow someone else to control my decisions, my actions, my *life*. He raised me *better* than that." Another step closer, not quite in Mystique's bubble... yet, but close.
Mystique	There is no movement, no sign in Mystique that she is afraid or that she will move. She let's him throw his tantrum of rage and indignation, get it out, wear himself down, then perhaps he will actually be able to listen. "Do you really believe I give a flying rats ass what you do out there?" She asks bluntly but calmly, lightly folding her arms across her chest. "I do not give even the slightest bit of a fuck what you do, where you do it, how you do it, or who you do it with. You perhaps believe this to be some sort of attempt to control you, to 'tell you what to do', to take away your freedoms and rights... but you are so far from the mark, it's almost laughable." This time she takes a step closer to him, "What I do is for the Brotherhood, and every single member of it... are you listening little boy? The rules of this place are for everyone, there are no exceptions, not even /ERIK/ may break the rules and he fucking wrote them. So listen... very carefully... when you are injured, you can tend to them yourself, stitch them up, super glue them, I don't care, but you /will/ go to the infirmary and inform the medics so that /I/ know who is in what medical conditions for jobs that might need to be done. Are you grasping now at an understanding as to why this rule is in place, and why EVERY member must follow it?"
Nicolai Codona	Really it's the 'little boy' that does it. Until then, he may have been listening, she might have reached him. Maybe... but he was raised that respect is something earned, not just given. ...and in this moment, Mystique hasn't earned his. Those eyes flash and every single picture in the anteroom comes crashing down, some of them after flying about violently. The same happens with the weapons cases in the bedroom... then an eerie calm falls over the room. "I'll be gone as soon as you can get someone to get me off this fucking rock... and if you do not comply with that wish, then you're no better than the people you claim to be fighting against."
Mystique	Outwardly, there is no change, she reaches to her comm unit and taps it a few times, before saying, "Clarice, please make yourself available. Mister Codona will be leaving us." She looks back to Nicolai, still no outward change, "As you wish," then turns to walk away. They always leave. They never understand and leave. It's her job, not her choice. She doesn't like it any more than they do, and they leave.
Nicolai Codona	When Mystique walks out the door, it's slammed behind her, the metal sliding and grinding with much more force than it would if closed on its own. He just stands there for a moment or two, breathing... in and out, in and out... He closes his eyes and when he opens them again... he's Nicolai, still seething mad but... Nicolai.
Clarice Ferguson	There's a pause of a few minutes before there's a chime at the door, and in the hallway stands Clarice. She actually //has// showered, and changed, and she stands with her arms folded and her eyebrows raised. Altogether, her expression seems to ask, 'What the hell, Nicolai?'
Mystique	Where Mystique went, no one knows. It wasn't her room, as that was at the end of this hall and Clarice would have been able to see her if that was the direction we went.
Nicolai Codona	Out of all the possessions in the room, the only thing he moves to pick up is that Stradivarius. "You can get the rest of my belongs to me later, right now? Just get me off this rock." It's still there, that seething rage, just beneath the surface. Nicolai's eyes flash between aqua-blue and red, his skin pales and then doesn't... broken pictures on the floor rattle slightly.
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice studies the mess, and studies Nicolai, then walks right in and takes a seat on the desk. "Sure," she agrees. "Just give a girl a chance to catch her breath. I'm wiped, today." She's not. "I think, oh, I'll be ready in about five minutes.     "So what's with the mess, Nix?" She asks - using his nickname for the first time.
Nicolai Codona	"Don't..." It's a single, low issued growl. "I'll be in the other room until you're ready." Nicolai turns on his heels and well, heads for the bedroom. The door closes behind him. Seems he's not ready to talk about 'the mess'.
Clarice Ferguson	"Nicolai..." Clarice calls after him - then lets out a sigh. She pushes herself off the desk, walking to the closed bedroom door and leaning up against it. "Come on, Nicolai, it's me. I'll take you down - of course I will. I just want to understand what's going on. Talk to me. Please?" she cajoles - her voice sounding a little tired. Sure, she can summon a portal just fine - but this day is an emotional roller coaster.
Nicolai Codona	There's nothing, not for a long long time. Nothing save the music he pulls from that violin. Lord but that boy's TALENTED. Seriously, he's an honest to God musical virtuoso. ...and that piece he's playing, likely composing on the fly, it's ANGRY... then it settles into something a little less so, more just ... indignant? Then it stops. The door opens, he's holding the violin in one hand, the bow in the other. "This isn't the place for me, Clarice. I'm not a child that needs to be told when he can come and when he can go, when he can fight and when he can't. I'm not a 'little boy'." The last is spit out, a repeat of the words that really really sealed the deal on him leaving.
Clarice Ferguson	"...I'm going to guess that was Mystique," Clarice remarks. Because if Mister Creed had said it, and Nicolai had reacted like that? Well. ... Let's just say the mess wasn't big enough for that.     "You know she's over a hundred years old, right?" she asks. "The only people on here she wouldn't call something like that are Mister Creed... and probably Magneto."     She offers him a smile as she adds, "That song sounded pretty good." Not that she was any judge of music.
Nicolai Codona	"I don't give a rat's ass *how* old she is, or who she would or wouldn't call that," Nicoolai points out. "I am not a child. She is not my mother or my 'boss'. I've been doing this whole 'protecting mutants from humans' thing on my own for long enough to know my own damned limits." ... just a beat and he adds, "I did respect her, I do not any longer. She hasn't proven herself a leader that I want to follow, would follow. Cristian was a leader, he earned the respect of those around him by treating them *with* respect."
Clarice Ferguson	"I'm trying to understand," Clarice says - reaching out to put her hand on his arm - if he'll allow it. "How has she disrespected you? Because she called you 'little boy'? Because she's controlling when you can come and go? Can you explain it to me from the beginning, Nicolai? Please." She offers him a small, encouraging smile.
Nicolai Codona	"All of the above," Nicolai responds incredulously. "...and sending out a text message telling me I'm basically grounded until further notice without so much as asking *me* about the situation." He's getting angry again. He doesn't pull away from Clarice, but... there's that rattling glass from broken pictures. It rises from the floor only to slam down again, shattering into more pieces. "... and having people *watch me* and report back to her?" He shakes his head a little. "No... no, that's not how I live. I don't live *my* life by someone else's wishes."
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice keeps her gaze fixed on Nicolai - studiously ignoring the rattling behind her. She's standing near Nicolai. Probably wouldn't be too much flying this way. ...right?     "I got that message, too," she remarks. "All it said was you weren't to go on missions for the Brotherhood. It didn't curtail your activities in any other way. Mystique, she... Well. She and I had a conversation not too dissimilar recently. She explained to me her perspective a little. She's responsible - for all of us. For all of our lives. We still don't know much about your physiology, and how to heal you - and she values you and doesn't want your death on her hands. And more than that," her expression changes into a solemn frown, "If you're not at your best, if that puts others at risk... She doesn't want to lose any of her people. It's not always easy to see it, but the truth of the matter is she cares - and this is how she shows she cares. She makes sure we're always at our best, and always prepared, before she'll put any of us in the field on Brotherhood business."
Nicolai Codona	"That's the point, it doesn't matter *why* I walk into a situation, if it's for my own reason or the Brotherhood's. If I'm walking into a situation of my own free will, my death is on *my* hands if it happens. MY hands." It's very clear from his posture and those flashing eyes of his that a major, major 'Danger' button has been pushed with Nicolai. "I make MY choices, they aren't on anyone else. *I* know my limits. I know if I'm not capable of handling something or keeping up... or protecting those around me. *I KNOW* my limits."     He snorts out an angry breath, nostrils flaring. "If I didn't, do you *really* think I would have stayed outside and let you all kill my father's murderer *without* me. If she doesn't trust me to make those decisions, then I have no place here. If she doesn't *respect* me enough to make those decisions, I have no place here."
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice listens - her unnaturally bright eyes locked onto his features, her expression attentive, sympathetic, and concerned. "That's just not how it works," she answers quietly, calmly. Hoping against hope that a lowered tone will help bring down his own angry energy. "She's responsible for everyone. She feels every death - and they do come. They will come, and she will grieve for them all. Maybe you're right. Maybe you do know your limits - but is that going to be true for every single person who joins the Brotherhood? Some of them will be wrong, and that blood will be on her hands. That's how she sees it. And she doesn't know you well enough, yet. //She// doesn't know your limits. I promise you, it's not about a lack of respect.     "Do you think she disrespects me? Thinks little of me?" she asks - holding his eyes with her own. "Because she would hold me to the same standards."     She lets out a sigh. "I want you to stay, Nicolai. But I can't make you, and I won't."
Nicolai Codona	"Sometimes, yes, I do... I do think she disrespects and underestimates you, Clarice," Nicolai admits, honestly. "...and I think you do the same to yourself," he adds, just as honestly. "Me leaving doesn't change a thing between us. I care about you, a lot. More than I'd care to admit to myself some days. Nothing will change that. But Mystique is *not* my keeper." Through it all, he's holding her gaze. "Free will and personal responsibility, those are the values I was raised with. Those are things that *matter* to me and I don't see those things mixing well with this place." He takes a step back. "...and she should have come to me first, before sending out some text message. She should have spoken to me *first* and respected *my* decision after discussing *my* health and my limitations with me. Because I'm not a little boy, I'm not some inexperienced whelp and I won't be treated as such."
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice lets out a sigh. "Well... she doesn't. Honestly, I think she sees more strength in me, than I do. She... trusts me." As much as she trusts anyone. "Maybe even relys on me. I hope so anyways. She means the world to me. The Brotherhood does. We have each others backs, we look after each other. I- this is the closest thing I have to a family." There's a flicker of doubt on her features. Isn't it? Her family is... dead?     Her eyes close and she takes a deep, slow breath in, and then out again. "I'll take you down. I said I would, and I will. ...I don't want to, though," she admits quietly. "I think this is a mistake."
Nicolai Codona	"I know..." It's hard to say exactly what he's referring to, but a good bet would be that Nicolai is talking about the 'family' part. But that's where he differs from her. He had a family with Cristian, one that instilled in him a sense of pride in self, in who he *is*, in *what* he is. "...but I don't think it's a mistake." He steps in again, closer, close enough to try to wrap her up in a hug if she'll allow it.
Clarice Ferguson	Not this time - Clarice lifts her right hand, putting it between them as he moves in towards her.     "You'll have to forgive me if I continue to think you're wrong, there," she answers - her lips quirking wryly. "We accomplish more together. We're stronger together, safer together..." She sighs and shakes her head. "You're sure you can't stay the night, and try talking to her again in the morning? I think you're wrong about the disrespect."
Nicolai Codona	Nicolai backs up again when Clarice raises her hand. "We'll have to agree to disagree," he comments quietly. "I don't like to be 'watched', reported about... for one. It's creepy and *very* disrespectful. ...and creepy. Two, I won't be told what I'm capable of and what I'm not without so much as a discussion regarding it and three? I don't care *how* old she is, I won't be looked upon as a little boy, a child... Clarice, you *saw* tonight. You saw it, you saw what I see... every single day of my life. For a brief moment, you got to experience a fraction of what I do. I'm still sane, I'm still alive, I still enjoy my life. Hell, even as a child, I faced it head on and learned to live my life to its fullest despite all of it. Her *age* does not give her the right to belittle my experiences by referring to me as a child."     He sighs and runs a hand back through those unruly curls of his, somehow, unless he's been wearing a helmet, they always manages to just fall back into a casual sort of mussed perfection. "Those two words alone showed a complete and utter lack of respect."
Clarice Ferguson	"It's really not about belittling," Clarice replies. "I've been called similar - and I've... seen things. Done things. Had things done... to me. I haven't been a child since I was six, by my reckoning, and she knows that. But compared to all she has seen, and learned, and done..." She gives a shrug of her shoulders. "And it's the same with Mister Creed. He's even older, actually." An amused smile crosses her features for a moment. Her two mentors - and she really was just a pup compared to them. "But they both think the world of me. I'm certain of that. And they know I'm strong, and capable. I think you're just not seeing them. But then - they don't make it easy. To really see them."
Nicolai Codona	"It is, it was about belittling in the context it was given," Nicolai points out. "She was here to make sure that I knew that she was in charge and I was nothing more than a child in her eyes." Because from his perspective, that's definitely the way it seemed. "...all after she made sure I knew how many 'fucks' she didn't give about what I do."     A beat and, "Which is fine, because right now? I don't give any fucks about what she thinks." There's no heat left in his voice, just flat matter-of-fact. He's no longer angry, no longer seething... he's just resigned. "I think I'm just more suited to doing this shit alone, yeah? ...and I've done fine that way."
Clarice Ferguson	"She is in charge," Clarice confirms simply. "But I promise you, you're more than just a child in her eyes. And she doesn't give a fuck about what we do - in that... that's her acknowledging that she doesn't control us completely. That she couldn't, and wouldn't want to. We're free. We're mutants. No one //controls// us.     "But she is in charge. And there are a few rules we have to follow - that keeps all of us safer. That makes our missions more successful. That ensures we all come back." She gives Nicolai a small smile. "Please - give her another chance? Talk to her again? You belong here - I believe that."
Mystique	Mystique has taken to leaning against the wall outside of Nicolai's room. Her arms are folded lightly across her chest, her eyes cast down at the floor by her feet. Her mind is wandering all over the place, her thoughts racing then slowing then racing again as she waits. So used to dealing with upstart little mutant shits who think they know everything about the world and how it works, then promptly watching them nearly get killed for not listening, she realizes she may not have handled this in the best possible way. Nicolai would likely still leave, but at least she will have tried.
Nicolai Codona	It has nothing to do with him thinking that it's ever going to work in the end at this point and everything to do with Clarice. "I'll stay the night," Nicolai agrees quietly. "I don't want to see her now," he adds, a little of the anger rising again, but not enough to send things shake, rattle and rolling. "But I'm not making any promises that I'll stay beyond tomorrow. ...not if there isn't some serious discussion about lines that shouldn't be crossed."     Here's to hoping he NEVER finds out his room is under surveillance, there'd be no coming back from that.
Clarice Ferguson	"I understand," Clarice agrees - a smile broadening on her features for a moment, before growing more serious once more. "And I do appreciate it. The Brotherhood is everything to me. You could be an important part of it."     She takes a deep breath in, and lets it out slowly before adding, "But I should get some rest. I am pretty tired, actually." This is different from other days, how? "...you're alright? For now?"
Nicolai Codona	"I never wasn't alright, Clarice," Nicolai points out before he moves to go about cleaning up the mess he made. "That's what started this whole mess, the assumption that I wasn't alright without checking with me first." Truth be told, he's moving around pretty well, bending to pick up pictures and glass. It's not that he *isn't* injured, it's more that his pain threshold is pretty high for someone that's basically 'human' in regards to such things.     "No matter what happened tomorrow, I'll help you find out what happened to your sister," he adds before she leaves.
Clarice Ferguson	She's dead. She has to be dead - right? She doesn't have a family. Not really. "I... I appreciate that, too. Sleep well - alright?" She says encouragingly. She flashes him another brief smile before she steps out into the hall - and finds Mystique waiting. Crossing her arms, she regards the woman an expression that seems to beg, 'Well, what do you have to say for yourself?'     She doesn't speak until after the door slides shut. "I don't know what's on the calender for tomorrow - but me and Mister Creed are taking the day to go hunting," she says flatly.
Mystique	Mystique glances up at Clarice emerges from the room, not saying a word, not moving until the door closes. The sounds of the hall are impossible to hear outside, just as the conversation that took place in the room could not be heard in the hall. "Go hunting then," she states calmly, but there is something in her tone that is different, something distant. "Enjoy yourself." In regards to the expression, Mystique ignores it and since Nicolai isn't with her, she turns to head toward her own room.
Clarice Ferguson	"He said he'd talk to you tomorrow," Clarice says simply - calling after the woman. "Fix this," she says simply - staying where she is for the moment, as she waits to see if the woman would respond at all.
Mystique	There is a pause in Mystique's step, and she glances back to Clarice over her shoulder. "I may not be able to fix it Clarice, but I intend to try." That same tone, still calm, too quiet for the cobalt mutant however, far too quiet.
Clarice Ferguson	"Good," Clarice agrees. "That's all I can ask." She's silent a moment before asking, "You want me there for the conversation? Or you rather do it on your own?" Either way - she has to stick around to give Nicolai a ride planetside, before she and Mister Creed can go on their hunt.
Mystique	Mystique looks back toward her bedroom door. "It's probably best if you are there," she states, thinking quietly 'because I apparently suck at this and can't handle shit, wasn't meant for this shit, I shouldn't be the one doing this shit.' "Unless you'd prefer not to be."
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice quirks an amused smile at Mystique. "You should know the answer to that, by now," she answers. "I'll be there. And //then// Mister Creed and I will go kill something."     Someone.     Someones.