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Hungry for Knowledge... Nope, just hungry; (open)
Topic Started: Nov 20 2010, 12:07 PM (169 Views)
Thunderbird
Unregistered

Time: 6-ish
Day: November 3
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Neal was wrapping up one of his open tutoring sessions, his particular way of feeling useful around the school. It was nothing official, mostly him hanging around the library, offering his assistance as needed to those who sought him out. Some days were relatively slow; today was not. Imaginary numbers had been introduced to the student populace and he’d been swamped with graphing charts and equations. He'd have to stop by the lab to tell Hank that some of his students didn’t understand the concept.

"Bye Neal," one of the students, a teenage girl whose name he didn't quite remember, waved as she left; others trickled out after, their departures marked in various farewells. He liked to think he had developed a rapport with the younger generation. Not being much older or a member of the staff, he kept things pretty informal; only the youngest bothered to attach a Mister in front of his name. He let them because it sounded cute. With the study room cleared, Neal turned his attention to reorganizing the chaos, straightening chairs, gathering stray books and trashing anything that looked unimportant. His mind wandering while he engaged in busy work.

Barely even a year had passed since his return, the time being spent carving a niche into familiar surroundings. Again he wore the uniform of an X-Man, but it was hardly a defining quality, not his life like many of his teammates. He didn’t breathe battle strategy like Cyclops or fight with the ferocity of Wolverine. Neal was no soldier, only a man who could project thermodynamic plasma from his body. So while he wore the uniform of an X-Man, fighting against mutants who would abuse their powers and humans who would oppress, he put his more practical skills to work on the humanitarian front. He dedicated time and money in Mutant Town, lending aid where he could and finding it when he couldn’t and while frustration had become a frequent companion lately, he held on to the satisfaction of his few accomplishments, tiny glimmers of hope that things would not remain forever unchanged.

As he finished shelving loose books, he caught sight of the time in his brown eyed gaze. It’s still so early, not even six. He wracked his brain trying to think of any work left unfinished, even consulting the calendar of his iphone for any appointments or reminders. Neal was not a workaholic, but he did not like idleness. If he wasn’t busy, he at least liked to be active. Sitting around curled in front of a book or the television was out of the question. He needed to get out, maybe have a drink or two. The rumbling of his stomach told him he also needed food. Harry’s it is.
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