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(no subject)

WHO: Drs. Curt Connors and Hank McCoy
WHERE: Hank's lab
WHEN: Shortly after Curt's post. So...backdated. A lot.
WARNINGS: Science.
SUMMARY: SCIENCE!
FORMAT: science?

Connors was waiting outside the door to the Xavier Institute, idly looking around. This place was so interesting. All the different people with such different powers...he felt completely out of his element and yet he loved it here. At lest Dr. McCoy had been here for a while and would probably be able to answer questions Connors had.

And also, he could ask about Dr. McCoy's...unique condition. It wasn't every day you met a blue furred lion man.

He quickly shot off a message and waited outside of the Institute.

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When Hank reached the foyer, he idly entertained the thought of opening the door and waiting above it to surprise the visitor, but ultimately decided that a higher level of decorum may be necessary for this situation. He was eager to see Dr. Connors research, after all, and didn't want to jeopardize that.

That he couldn't shake the feeling of some vague familiarity to the name bugged him as he reached for the knob, but he decided not to let it bug him. "Dr. Connors, how unexpected! Come right in."

"Thank you," he said, smiling at Dr. McCoy. He was trying his hardest not to stare, but the man was blue and fuzzy. He hadn't dealt with anyone who was blue and fuzzy before. It was slightly distracting.

"And thank you for agreeing to show me the lab on such short notice."

Hank was kind of an original at it, even if he was hardly the only blue and fuzzy mutant on the staff here. He'd endured stares for many years, so he'd learned to ignore them, though he may still notice them with some frequency, especially on first meeting someone here in the City, where this could be even more unique.

He led Dr. Connors in, hitting the button on the elevator to summon it up. "Oh, not at all! A schedule like mine requires some flexibility, and it's always pleasant to give a potential colleague the proper welcome! You wouldn't happen to have brought some of your notes, perhaps?"

Connors entered the elevator, giving everything a look like a kid in a candy store. This was so impressive. "Ah, indeed I did." Connors opened his jacket, taking some notes from the inside pocket. "My speciality is herpetology, with an emphasis on cross-species regeneration. Specific, I know."

Hank pressed the button to send them down and rested his hands in the pockets of his labcoat. "Oh, we all have our pet topics. Mine is, big surprise, genetic mutation. Some of my research may carry some overlap with your emphasis. May I...?"

"Be my guest," Connors responded, handing Hank the papers, with a small smile. "I hope you can decipher my chicken scratch."

"Oh, believe me, I've seen worse," he said, pushing his pince-nez up his snout as he gave them a glance. The elevator stopped, and he walked right out of it and toward the lab, never looking up from Connors' papers, but making the occasional thoughtful noise.

Sorry, Curt, you've almost entirely lost him in thought.

As Curt entered the lab, it was his turn to stare at things and get lost in thought. Well. This was certainly impressive. He wandered around the lab a bit, taking note of everything.

"I see you've build up a fairly impressive lab for yourself."

Hank was pulled out of his reverie at that, glancing up from the papers and adjusting his glasses.

"Hmm?" Hank, you are being a terrible host. "Ah!" He folded the papers and placed them behind his back. Easier to focus that way. "Well, time does allow for one to accumulate equipment. I also have a colleague that's quite the machinist, so the collection's only grown since he arrived in February."

He walked over to one piece that he didn't think had been there the day before, muttering under his breath: "I'm actually not entirely certain what this one does."

"I suppose there's only one way to find out," Connors responded, chuckling slightly. But he was making no effort to touch the machine. He wasn't going to fiddle with something he didn't know about. If there was one thing he learned about this place, it was that most everything was dangerous and could possibly kill him.

"If you don't mind me asking, what's the building above the lab used for? I assume some kind of school, hence the name, but what specifically?"

"Well, of course! We ask Madison," he replied cheerily, before mumbling an addition, "assuming he even knows. You never know what'll happen when inspiration strikes. Can't take it for granted."

Hank gave it a light, affectionate rap with his knuckles before turning back to Dr. Connors. "But to answer your question, your assumption is correct! We teach K-12, with a special focus on imPort students along with assisting imPorts of all ages to learn the safe and responsible applications of their abilities. But we're still part of the New York state charter school system, so we're not exclusive to either."

Connors nodded, looking at Hank as he did so. "I think that's wonderful-giving imPort students a safe place to learn, especially considering the current environment." He wandered around the lab some more, looking at the equipment.

"You know, if you ever want a guest lecture on herpetology or something like that, I'd love to do it. Something to shake up the lesson plan a bit, you know?"

"It was a social atmosphere much like this one that first inspired its foundation, back where I come from. But the challenges are different here, given that we're in such a relatively early stage of the social introduction of superpowers. It's as much getting the world used to us as it is keeping our own in good condition, which is why we've taken in so many native students as well!"

He paused for a moment, thinking it over. "Classes begin in a little over a week, though I'll miss the first few due to my other business. Perhaps we could arrange something after my return?"

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