To: [Crystal Amaquelin] From: [Marius Laverne] Subject: Re: Cured
Now that is quite the interesting story. Do you recall how when first we met I so rudely interrupted it by nearly asphyxiation? That was as a consequence of being blessed with what Dr. Moira so charmingly refers to as a "maladaptive mutation," which would be the technical term for the sort of power that sees fit to adapt your lungs away from the ability to process unnecessary things like oxygen and run you through a subdimension of sufficient atmosphere to boil most of your skin off. It was something of an inconvenience. Of the nature that warrants serious consideration of whether my condition warranted a bed at the illustrious Muir Island Research Centre. Which, much as I loved and venerated Dr. MacTaggart even then, featured rather prominently in the decision to immediately remove myself to Europe.
Happily, thanks to the intervention of the geniuses in residence I shall no longer be doing such things as would warrant hospitalization. Nor be called upon to feast upon the marrow of my genetic peers. Nor . . . to be honest, with all that's been subtracted from the equation I am quite at a loss as to what sort of mutant that leaves me. However, so long as the answer is "nothing that will eventually culminate in my agonizing death" I'm sure I'm quite satisfied.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 10:14 pm (UTC)From: [Marius Laverne]
Subject: Re: Cured
Now that is quite the interesting story. Do you recall how when first we met I so rudely interrupted it by nearly asphyxiation? That was as a consequence of being blessed with what Dr. Moira so charmingly refers to as a "maladaptive mutation," which would be the technical term for the sort of power that sees fit to adapt your lungs away from the ability to process unnecessary things like oxygen and run you through a subdimension of sufficient atmosphere to boil most of your skin off. It was something of an inconvenience. Of the nature that warrants serious consideration of whether my condition warranted a bed at the illustrious Muir Island Research Centre. Which, much as I loved and venerated Dr. MacTaggart even then, featured rather prominently in the decision to immediately remove myself to Europe.
Happily, thanks to the intervention of the geniuses in residence I shall no longer be doing such things as would warrant hospitalization. Nor be called upon to feast upon the marrow of my genetic peers. Nor . . . to be honest, with all that's been subtracted from the equation I am quite at a loss as to what sort of mutant that leaves me. However, so long as the answer is "nothing that will eventually culminate in my agonizing death" I'm sure I'm quite satisfied.