「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(316) Dinky Nerd

Lynn's POV

"How are you doing, Lynn?" Raven enquired in a worried tone, almost immediately detecting the discreet movement of my hand as my fingers sneakily wiggled behind my pulsating back.

"Better if you weren't pacing," I mumbled impatiently.

Despite the stubborn twinges that irritatingly persisted as I forced my knuckles repeatedly into the throbbing area, I noticed Raven plopping into the seat next to me with a grudging expression and my face rapidly swelled with remorse.

"I'm sorry," I quickly apologized, wrapping my arm around her and cradled her head.

"You know I'd be the first to join you if not for him," I whispered, sweeping my eyes sheepishly towards her body guard in the seat diagonally across the aisle from us with a pair of unreserved eyes glaring daggers at me as if I was a notorious criminal.

The muscular male, although similar in appearance to the one shadowing Hank prior, had elected to perform the essentially same role with vastly different methods. Whilst the man earlier displayed great respect for Charles' awe-inspiring ability confidently rising through his inherent disabilities, the one present in our cabin flaunted just the opposite sentiments, creating a huge fuss out of my handicap since the beginning of our interaction.

Almost scornful the moment he laid eyes on my chair, the excessively prejudiced one adamantly insisted that his ordinary vehicle and the spontaneously arranged jet was not adapted for my special condition, as quoted directly from his blunt words.

A heated quarrel broke out between him and Raven as she determinedly defended me but he was equally persistent in refusing to provide any assistance when she steadfastly maintained that my company was imperative to her journey. Whilst safe loading of myself into the normal sedan was a rather manageable feat independently, boarding a plane equipped with absolutely no ramps or gangways was obviously more tricky.

Claiming that it was only detrimental to the mutant tension skyrocketing from the ashes, the rigid man forbid the use of my powers openly on the airport's tarmac and I was compelled to rely solely on Raven's back to transport me into the oldish environment.

Within such short notice, it seemed no other aircraft from the White House could be made available as the one that was sent reeked of aged furniture and an ironic stench of sterilizers.

Thoroughly nauseating apart, the haggard interior boasted hard seats surely uncomfortable and narrow passages definitely inaccessible by my portable mobility device that had to be stowed away as disassembled pieces due to the lack of space in the cramped area.

Although minimal room remained to accommodate much more than Raven's slim figure whizzing back and forth in a fidgety motion, it was his blaring idea of wielding the weapon tucked away in his hip holster that truly deterred an outright defiance.

"He's a jerk. I really should get him fired," Raven snarled in a bitter manner but I somehow chuckled at her exaggerated reaction.

"That's a little far, Raven," I refuted softly and Raven stared at me, bemused.

"I've lived too long, and too much like a queen, in Westchester—sometimes I tend to forget that I'm just a second class citizen in this world," I rambled on subconsciously and my tone unwittingly trailed into a wistful one, eliciting another spike of anxiety on Raven's face.

"He was just doing his job. It's fine," I asserted, mustering a chipper smile to bolster her.

"How are you always so kind?" Raven challenged with a prevailing astonished expression.