There aren't many things that Raven has a lot of patience for, but this-- an angry teenage girl coming to grips with the way people treat her because she's a freak-- is one of them.
She listens to the whole thing without comment or expression, just nodding now and then to indicate she's paying attention. Caroline comes to sit by her, then, all in a huff, and for awhile, Raven says nothing.
"Okay. This isn't what you want to hear, but I don't care." She purses her lips, and starts up very matter-of-factly.
"Trying hard doesn't matter. This isn't high school, or Girl Scouts: nobody cares how hard you're trying, sweetie." That last epithet actually isn't sarcastic; she's giving her the same advice she'd give to a Brotherhood neonate, and in the same gentle step it up before I school you hard tone of voice. "And how hard you're trying isn't the problem, anyway. The problem is you're expecting to be treated fairly and equally in a place where you're not going to be taken seriously by anybody, for reasons that are largely outside of your control. One, you're a woman. Two, you look like a teenager, and that's a handicap you're never getting over. And three? You're not human."
She sighs, debating internally where to take this conversation. She's got a lot to say on the topic, especially after Cap and Spock's little interview with her, supposedly to determine she had enough grit for the job of guarding Hyde. She'd like to know who'd evaluated them, exactly, and why in god's name a Vulcan figured he was fit to evaluate emotional health. The whole thing's a joke, and she was surprised to see the protocol pop up in the first place, after nearly a year of all the unemployed heroes and captains and commanders and god knows what else sitting around and planning the next birthday party.
None of this is anything Caroline needs to hear about, but Mystique has no qualms letting her know which side of the line she's on. Which is to say not on the side of two self-appointed male officials laying down law without so much as a town meeting. Funnily enough, she can honestly say she's been pushing for such a thing for months now; she's not exactly a "talking stick" kind of girl but it's clear to her now, and it's been clear to her, that they're all sitting ducks if and when a truly chaotic element gets introduced to the station.
Hyde's just a barmy cannibal Englishman and look what he managed.
"I'm sure between Klaus and Erik you've gotten enough vampire pride pep talks to last you the rest of your preternaturally long life," she says, smiling a little, "so tell me to back off if you've heard this before." Raven waits, watching her expression.
no subject
She listens to the whole thing without comment or expression, just nodding now and then to indicate she's paying attention. Caroline comes to sit by her, then, all in a huff, and for awhile, Raven says nothing.
"Okay. This isn't what you want to hear, but I don't care." She purses her lips, and starts up very matter-of-factly.
"Trying hard doesn't matter. This isn't high school, or Girl Scouts: nobody cares how hard you're trying, sweetie." That last epithet actually isn't sarcastic; she's giving her the same advice she'd give to a Brotherhood neonate, and in the same gentle step it up before I school you hard tone of voice. "And how hard you're trying isn't the problem, anyway. The problem is you're expecting to be treated fairly and equally in a place where you're not going to be taken seriously by anybody, for reasons that are largely outside of your control. One, you're a woman. Two, you look like a teenager, and that's a handicap you're never getting over. And three? You're not human."
She sighs, debating internally where to take this conversation. She's got a lot to say on the topic, especially after Cap and Spock's little interview with her, supposedly to determine she had enough grit for the job of guarding Hyde. She'd like to know who'd evaluated them, exactly, and why in god's name a Vulcan figured he was fit to evaluate emotional health. The whole thing's a joke, and she was surprised to see the protocol pop up in the first place, after nearly a year of all the unemployed heroes and captains and commanders and god knows what else sitting around and planning the next birthday party.
None of this is anything Caroline needs to hear about, but Mystique has no qualms letting her know which side of the line she's on. Which is to say not on the side of two self-appointed male officials laying down law without so much as a town meeting. Funnily enough, she can honestly say she's been pushing for such a thing for months now; she's not exactly a "talking stick" kind of girl but it's clear to her now, and it's been clear to her, that they're all sitting ducks if and when a truly chaotic element gets introduced to the station.
Hyde's just a barmy cannibal Englishman and look what he managed.
"I'm sure between Klaus and Erik you've gotten enough vampire pride pep talks to last you the rest of your preternaturally long life," she says, smiling a little, "so tell me to back off if you've heard this before." Raven waits, watching her expression.