Library Conversations (rp for cyke_out)

[a_sloane]

The library was quickly becoming a favorite place, which disconcerted Arvin Sloane to some degree. He hated being predictable. Still. It reminded him of Zurich, not of Los Angeles, which he found preferable, and yet had an atmosphere of its own. The mysterious Charles Xavier, who had come and gone before Sloane moved into the mansion, must have created it, and it was entertaining and challenging to identify hidden doors, books that didn't belong, which one one but an avid reader would notice, and sometimes just to enjoy the quiet.

Sloane had forgotten how teenagers could be. He had missed both Sydney's and Nadia's teenage years, and there had been no reason to involve himself with others. Sometimes he thought teaching them was being locked up with ten to fifteen versions of Marshall Flinkman and Julian Sark; they were either over eager, or sullen and unsubtly sarkastic. Irina, he remembered, had taught when playing Laura Bristow, and she had raised Sark. Clearly, she was even stronger than Sloane had always thought her to be.

So here he was, retreating in the library, looking forward to working on his idea for infiltrating and invading first the Sentinel outside and then SHIELD which was supposed to be a surprise gift for his, well, hosts, when realizing this time, he wasn't alone. There was already someone in the library. Scott Summers. Looking somewhat harrassed himself.

Comments

[cyke-out.livejournal.com]

She wasn't herself. . .

Scott hears the words and shakes his head. How many times has this been true of himself, of people he cares about. "God," he says, "I'm sorry."

He stops speaking for a moment and looks at Sloane, trying to get a good measure of him. He doesn't want to forget that he and Emma have assessed what they could of this man's past, and determined that a lot of it was almost certainly unsavory. Scott needed someone to talk to, and Sloane was providing that, but was it just a way of earning his trust? In any case, the stories, like his own, are almost certainly edited for content and context.

"One of these days," he says, "you and I are going to sit down and tell each other some real stories. Whole stories. But --" He reaches down for his book, remembers the other he came for, and heads to the shelf. "I have a feeling," he says, "that today is not that day. I have what I need. I've been here too long anyway. Enjoy the library, it's what you came for."

And he heads toward the door.