2010-07-22: He Talks A Lot For A Deaf Boy


Alvin_icon.jpg Marshall_icon.jpg

Summary: Alvin meets Marshall outside.

Date: July 22, 2010

He Talks a Lot For a Deaf Boy

Rating: PG

Xavier Mansion - Japanese Gardens

A large area of the grounds is landscaped with a Japanese Garden. A river filled with coi fish runs through the middle with a wooden bridge. There is even a small waterfall splashing on the rocks. Bamboo can be heard clacking on the rocks. A small statue of a Buddha can be found in various places. The trees hang over the area and when the flowers are in bloom, it brings a variety of color to the peaceful landscape.

The wooden bridge across the koi river is Marshall's practice spot for today. Standing on the bridge's handrails, he turns himself upside down, balancing on his hands as he walks down the length, working the strength of his upper arms. The silence of the garden doesn't affect him in any direction, as he only really knows silence and deep thumping beats. He spreads his legs and returns them to a full upright position as the light breeze moves his hair. It's a good time to practice. Yes, there are strange things going on, but he misses a lot of it.

Move-in is extremely stressful and taxing to a normal person— let alone someone with terrible stamina that probably doubled his own stress just out of paranoia and worry. He barely let anyone help him, and hauling heavy things, and bending and unpacking everything that he'd packed, has wrecked him today. Therefore, Alvin's shamelessly out in his wheelchair, today, slouched somewhat in it, motion sluggish as he stops in the japanese garden, deliberately stopping fully to stare at the gymnastic show. If spotted, his expression would rank in 'broody', maybe, except he has some sunglasses on that fully mask his eyes, though they don't hide the heavy dark red and purpling, healing discolorations on his left upper forehead, jaw, and under his nose and upper lip. He has longsleeves, ripped jeans, sneakers; rough clothes that clash with the wheelchair's image, likely.

But then again, it's Marshall here. And Marshall's take on things is quite different from your standard student. As he brings himself back to a standing position, he jumps off the beam with a grin. Noting the new arrival, he tilts his head. "You new?" He asks. His speech is unaccented and quite normal. Nothing seems to be wrong with it at all.

Alvin watches Marshall without any movement at all. He may as well have passed out sitting up in the chair for all the motion he exhibits. With his paleness, that probably wouldn't be THAT strange of a guess. But after Marshall asks, a few beats pass, and then Alvin nods slowly, bending one arm to set the elbow on an armrest, chin against palm; lean fingers spidery at his cheek. "Yesterday," Alvin answers. He's on the quiet side, but that should be no problem for Marshall.

Marshall's eyes are always a little bit down, looking at lips instead of eyes. "Ah. They give squad you yet?" His speech is still good, but the order is a little off. "Paragon. I Marshall." He says with a grin, extending a hand. "Stay for summer. Family not mind. I like here. More learn time." He nods succinctly.

Probably good to look at lips and not eyes, seeing as Alvin has the sunglasses on. So lips is a good place to stare anyhow. He lifts both brows at the weird speech patterns, piecing it together. "Did they give me a what?" Alvin asks, suspecting he may have misunderstood that part. Alvin doesn't shake, he lifts and shows his hand; most people don't want to touch him. The nails are dark and yellowy; multiple bandaids on the fingers and back of hand, some mostly-healed sores on the palm. Marshall might rather keep his hand to himself. Alvin waves with it instead, but not exactly in a high-energy way. "I'm Alvin. What's with the me-Tarzan thing?" Alvin asks, directly, but not sneering, there's not much expression, beyond curiosity.

"Oh. Deaf." Marshall explains, nodding. "Deaf since born." He offers, pointing to his ears as he does so. "Read lips well. Squad. Training squad. Where power control learned." He offers. "Team color… uhm… Thing. Hard explain. Will learn. All student Danger Room time." Yes. He can't explain very well. He tries, but what he lacks in explanation he makes up for in friendliness. Seeing as how the hand wasn't returned, he shrugs and pulls his back. He's not that stupid.

Alvin didn't immediately think deaf, but only due to zero contact with deaf people in the past. He blinks and actually sits up a little bit, more interested in Marshall, apparently. "Oh, no shit? Okay." Some of Alvin's chilly demeanor melts off; Marshall wasn't making fun of him. "I don't have a squad. I don't think I can train with others anyway, but eh, who knows." He isn't talking down to Marshall at all, he's just talking normally, with an expectation that the lip reader can keep up fine. "How many people are in a squad?"

Marshall ponders for a moment. "Average six. Give or take. People come. People go. Just lost few for year. Got few missing." He nods, thinking on it. It's all normal fare for him. "All student train with other. My squad… Tara… blind girl. James… hyena. No trust. He prank new folk." He offers, giving a wink. "Rashmi graduate. Don't know who take place. Lucas graduate. And Zack. BIIIIIIG." He holds his hands up and down as high as he can. "Would be weird if power that have. BIG… but deaf. Nah. Like mine." He chuckles… unfortunately, his laugh is a classic deaf laugh. Closer to a honk.

Alvin is sharp, but a lot of that is a mess. He squints some behind the sunglasses, working it out. "Zack's my roommate," Alvin observes, without any inclination on it either way. "…Your power isn't to be deaf, then? Is it to walk on your hands?" Alvin queries, with a ghost of a smile. He leaves his hands loose and motionless, one at his lap, the other dropped to handrest.

Marshall shakes his head as he considers. "You skill… I watch… MY skill. Gymnastics? That Tara skill. I watch. I have." He grins innocently. "Watched Bruce Lee movie to see if worked when figured." He wrinkles his nose. "Try not to watch too much. Don't know how much brain hold skills." He says with a shrug. "Gymnastics. Fight like Mikhail. Fight like Bruce Lee. Origami. Cooking with butter. Made mistake. Watched Paula Deen show." He coughs, rubbing the back of his head.

Wow, that was a whole lot of ….not much gleaned, for Alvin. He stares at Marshall a while. "…So you… copycat what people do," Alvin comes up with, skeptical about if he's got it correctly or not. "What if they do it wrong, or badly?" Alvin wants to know. He stretches his back a fraction, and draws off his sunglasses, dropping one end into the front neckline of his shirt. ….Better when he had them on; his eyes are bloodshot and the shadows around them nearly black, hollow, clearly sick with something awful. But he has a better view of Marshall now, so.

Marshall shrugs. "Then learn that way. EXACTLY that way. That problem. My… Mikhail fight not so good. Mikhail… student. Feral. Claws. Fangs. When fight like Mikhail, I bite. Teeth sharp no. Claws?" He holds up his hand and shows, no claws. "Just weak fingernails. Break." He sighs. "That why… try learn good skill right. Follow?" He tilts his head. "What you do?"

Alvin is getting more used to the speech patterns now, and doesn't look as confused. "Yeah. Okay. Harder to bite if you don't have fangs. Sure." Alvin, perhaps on purpose, misunderstands the question. "I don't fight, I don't have to. I can't think of any physical skills that anyone would want," Alvin answers, distracted by thinking about that, and depressing himself with that reality.

"Then mental skill. Can't copy. Safe from Marshall steal. Muahaha…" He imitates the laughter movement of TV supervillains, even if he overpronounces it. "Good school though. Will teach. Help learn deal whatever power give or take." He offers with a nod. He, much like Tara, are generally rays of sunshine, regardless of the skies. Even if they're both just really odd.

Rolling his eyes, Alvin taps the side of his head with two bony fingers and makes a gesture of turning a lock, and tossing away the key, smirking with a brief, ragged laugh that makes him cough once. "That's the idea. As much fun as I'm having with my plague," Alvin comments dryly, though Marshall may lack tone, the expression is not so much sunshine but irritable stormcloud seeking picnic to rain on. "S'why I'm here in the summer. Get settled before more stuff to handle." Grumble.

"Lots of stuff happen. Be ready for surprise." Marshall says, taking a moment to be serious. "Since come here. STudent kidnap. Student brainwash. Student return. Other student kidnap. Heard brainwash. Cam right now. Find anything power." He nods, thinking before he nods. "Speak of Cam… hungry. Cam school best cook beside Mr. Parker-Mayfair. Mister. Not Doctor. He ok, too." He nods as he offers a wave. "Got go meet with family on video conference." He says, grinning a little after dropping the bomb. But it's a fact of life for him.

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