(Look, it's she, hooray, she's totally not happy about this bullshit tough love situation Quire put her in, but he did talk some sense into her. Help them so they feel like they need the mutants after all and don't go all pitchforks and torches, fair, fine. Doesn't mean she will love getting kicked out, her eyes rolling at the gremlin she's looking at in two different planes.
She's gotta give him attitude, arms crossed, because go ahead. Just get it over with.
... Huh. It worked. He's not going to fool himself into thinking it's a permanent solution, but it felt enough like a success that he's not going to complain. Ironically enough, even a small accomplishment like this, along with having his mind put off his current problems by making this new one, put him in a slightly better mood.
And then here's Sophie again.
Now, rather than it just feel like a nebulous voice in his head, having a clear image of himself, of Sophie, and of this vague room that's starting to take shape more clearly, it feels less like he's going insane and more like he's just having a conversation. So rather than kicking Sophie out right away:]
/I know you had better intentions than how you came across. But you can't pressure someone to calm down, and expect them to thank you for it. Not how it works.
Yeah, he's not incorrect. She did want him to calm down, first and foremost, but definitely went at it wrong. Still, why is he being... Nice about it? She doesn't get it, and instead of covering that with a neutral, defiant face, one of her eyebrows raise in confusion. What's up with people being nice when she messes up? She's hardly deserving of it.
At least yell at her or something. Be normal, Jayce.
Her perfectly manicured nails tap against the doorframe, and her eyes roll as a response.)
/And why do you think that exactly?/
(Just give her some data, man. She's struggling here.)
/That's fine. I'll resist a little so you can get some practice./
[The void-like white room that Jayce had originally conjured up mostly for the sake of making a door make sense starts to take on a few more colors, mostly blues. No other furniture or shapes yet. He's still getting the hang of this.]
/Because most people do./
[He'll try now, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving a decent shove.]
But she feels weird either way. It still feels wrong to have the best thought of her, being it because she's a mutant, or a telepath, or a Cuckoo.
It almost tips her into the doorway, but she promised to resist a little so he can learn to conjure up some more juice. He'll not be able to kick the other telepaths out with this, freaking Omega-levels and what not. But fine, he can use her. She's not a huge fish, but not a small one either.
Her hand grips on the doorframe and her blue eyes stare at him.
/And "mine" would most likely adamantly encourage me to turn into diamond, kick you in the nuts, and tell me to stomp on you with my expensive bitch heels, instead of just letting you. We're both disappointing. Now go./
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She's gotta give him attitude, arms crossed, because go ahead. Just get it over with.
Fucking hell.)
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... Huh. It worked. He's not going to fool himself into thinking it's a permanent solution, but it felt enough like a success that he's not going to complain. Ironically enough, even a small accomplishment like this, along with having his mind put off his current problems by making this new one, put him in a slightly better mood.
And then here's Sophie again.
Now, rather than it just feel like a nebulous voice in his head, having a clear image of himself, of Sophie, and of this vague room that's starting to take shape more clearly, it feels less like he's going insane and more like he's just having a conversation. So rather than kicking Sophie out right away:]
/I know you had better intentions than how you came across. But you can't pressure someone to calm down, and expect them to thank you for it. Not how it works.
I'm still going to kick you out, now./
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Yeah, he's not incorrect. She did want him to calm down, first and foremost, but definitely went at it wrong. Still, why is he being... Nice about it? She doesn't get it, and instead of covering that with a neutral, defiant face, one of her eyebrows raise in confusion. What's up with people being nice when she messes up? She's hardly deserving of it.
At least yell at her or something. Be normal, Jayce.
Her perfectly manicured nails tap against the doorframe, and her eyes roll as a response.)
/And why do you think that exactly?/
(Just give her some data, man. She's struggling here.)
/That's fine. I'll resist a little so you can get some practice./
(Ouch, ouch, ouch.)
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[The void-like white room that Jayce had originally conjured up mostly for the sake of making a door make sense starts to take on a few more colors, mostly blues. No other furniture or shapes yet. He's still getting the hang of this.]
/Because most people do./
[He'll try now, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving a decent shove.]
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But she feels weird either way. It still feels wrong to have the best thought of her, being it because she's a mutant, or a telepath, or a Cuckoo.
It almost tips her into the doorway, but she promised to resist a little so he can learn to conjure up some more juice. He'll not be able to kick the other telepaths out with this, freaking Omega-levels and what not. But fine, he can use her. She's not a huge fish, but not a small one either.
Her hand grips on the doorframe and her blue eyes stare at him.
Go.)
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/My mom would kick my ass if she knew I was trying to shove a girl around.../
[The Respect Women Juice can loop back around to sexism, sometimes.]
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(Does that explain anything? At all? Maybe.)
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/Fine./
[He gives a much harder mental shove.]
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She won't fight it. She was prepared enough he doesn't give her a nosebleed, but a mean migraine and tinnitus.
Good job.)