Dinner had oddly enough not been tense at all. Scott was making a real effort with overcoming whatever issues he had and truthfully she found herself liking him. It was odd but despite the clear visual age difference he gave off more of a big brother feeling towards her then a possible father in law.
The three of them were now sitting around the main room, a fire roaring in the fireplace as they all sipped their tea and coffee.
“Nathan, could you please go get some more wood from the back?”
Nathan shot them both a weary look as though he didn’t want to leave her alone with his father.
“Okay,” he muttered as he shuffled away.
As soon as he left an awkwardness soaked into the room, more awkward for her really, the tension in the room was coming off of Scott in waves. She sipped at her cup generously.
“The wood’s stacked a bit far out back, kind of an inconvenience really, been meaning to move it closer. I don’t move as well as I use too,” he spoke softly a smiling drifting across his face.
“Your right knee must give you a lot of trouble,” she muttered and suddenly realized she had said it out loud.
“Excuse me,” he said, his eyes narrowing.
“Ummm,” she started placing her cup back on the table. “I’m sorry it’s just…just when I first saw you outside I noticed you were leaning on your left leg for support and then you mentioned you don’t move well…and well…it was just a guess…really.”
“A guess…really?” he spoke more to himself, his lips smirking as though there was a joke she wasn’t getting.
“You have a good eye.”
“I guess.”
“Those senses must come in handy.”
She shrugged. “Never needed them really, you know except it’s easier for me to tell when food’s bad at the diner.”
He snorted. “You telling me you’ve never lived a more adventurous life with your skills?”
She stilled on the couch not liking where the conversation was going, it was a pretty ordinary question but she had a feeling he was digging for something.
“What type of answer are you looking for Mr. Summers?” she asked with a subtle edge.
He leaned over the table, his hands cupping his mug, his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry if my tone was…”
“Have I offended you somehow?”
“What?” he looked up at her sharply. “No, no it’s just…well I guess you were aware of my first reaction to you.”
“You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
His lips quirked. “Yes I suppose that would be a way to put it, I’m sorry, I’m sure Nathan has told you…”
“It’s alright,” she spoke up. “I figured you might be a bit guarded, Nathan told me about your experiences during the war and his mother and…”
She stopped when she noticed the way he tensed. “Yes,” he murmured. “Those weren’t the best of times, my wife...Jean Grey,” he paused and looked up at her sharply but whatever he wanted to see wasn’t there. “Well, she wasn’t the only one we lost during that time.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
He turned in the dim light and she noticed that one side of his collar had flopped over revealing three long claw marks in the side of his neck, they were scarred. She found her own hand wondering up towards her chest absently stroking a space that bore no mark to speak of.
“I suppose it’s my fault really,” he murmured. “I haven’t been into the town or the cities that much. I guess it was easy when I first saw you to think of how you reminded me of someone who was once very important to me and my family.”
“Really?” she found herself sitting forward on the edge of the couch.
“You don’t have a twin do you? Or maybe your mother…”
“No,” she spoke abruptly. “I have no family.”
He nodded shaking his head. “That’s unfortunate.”
She could tell the questions he really wanted to ask were on the tip of his tongue. But no matter how nice he seemed she couldn’t bring herself to engage in such a conversation. He spoke of her appearance being a trick to his son, but was it a trick on herself that he spoke as though maybe he might have known her or someone related to her. In part she couldn’t blame him, she wasn’t as susceptible to the ideal that the mutant dream had been reached, no world was a utopia. A sudden image of an older man with no hair sitting in a wheel chair smiling at her snapped through her mind and she felt her eyes close against the dim light as she reached up to press a hand against her forehead.
“Are you alright?” she heard him dimly ask in concern.
“Fine,” she responded, looking up and forcing a smile on her face. “Must be tired,” she lied.
She wondered where Nathan was with the firewood.
“Your hair is beautiful by the way,” he spoke suddenly.
She nodded and knew he truly meant it.
“What happened to this woman that I remind you of?”
His jaw clenched. “She’s dead,” he spoke abruptly. “Died during the war.”
“I’m sorry,” she spoke quietly.
“It’s alright, nothing you can do about it.” His gaze turned back towards the fire. “Anyways, would you like a refill?” he asked as he stood up.
Her reply was interrupted by a loud crash outside and a yell that carried into the house.
“WHERE IS SHE!?”