She started stirring the ice cubs after receiving her cup. "So. Tell me, Katja. What's your opinion on the lecture?"

"The lecture, or the debate that completely sidetracked it?", she asked, but answered the question nonetheless: "Some parts of it overlapped with other sources I’ve already read, others were new and all the more interesting. But mostly I observe it’s a field where there’s very little serious research yet, which is a bit concerning for any mutant who might need medical care." She shook her head as she came to her conclusion, then carried on as she remembered one of her own questions: "I was wondering if Mr. Jenkins’ case had been published?"

"Not yet." She answered simply. That one was borrowed from her own experience after all. She sips her coffee, looking vaguely at a... snake? that was crossing the yard under the scorching sun.
Eh. Why not.
"Truly a fascinating case. I ended up talking about it because I don't think it will be published soon enough. Not until a very long time later, rather. Public opinion is still unstable toward the X-Gene. Some of my peers fear that professionals would start refusing to treat mutants if cases like this one end up being taken out of context."

Laughter that wasn’t so much laughter as an outlet for exasperation came out of Katja’s mouth. "Funny, I didn’t know denial was part of the scientific method." She didn’t want to wait, didn’t want to be held back by a few prejudiced privileged pricks who might feel uncomfortable. She wanted change and she wanted it now. Because without change there would never be a "right time", because mutants would remain marginal and keep making others uncomfortable. All the while being a lot worse than uncomfortable themselves.

She smiles ironically. "Oh dear. There are so much ego and conflicts of interest in our methodology, that one starts wondering if it's not propaganda at this point." Anastasia does think that there will never be better timing than now when it concerns this. "I'm not saying that to discourage you, though. I hope it didn't ?"

This time it’s a real laugh that escapes Katja: "Oh no, far from it! The more people try to bury their heads in the sand, cover their ears and look the other way, the more I’ll keep putting the facts right under their noses, even if I have to use a trumpet or kazoo to get their attention— And I think my metaphors went out of hand by now, but you get the point?" As she might find out later in life, a temper like that made her an ideal fit in the Brotherhood, but a poor candidate for funding, research positions or journal publications.

She chuckles at her visible passion, nodding silently before sipping the coffee. There was a lot that needed to be addressed after what she said, but Anastasia decided it was not the right timing for the reality check. "I believe so, yes." She smiles. "Do you have an idea of how you envision your future then? Beside a wind instrument musician, that is."

"I’m a terrible musician, I don’t think I have a future in that field." It’s not playing down her skills if it’s true. "First, I need to complete my doctorate." Obviously. "I intend to use it as a starting point to figure out the most common effects, beneficial and unwanted, of certain categories of medication on mutants. Then, ideally I’d also expand to less commonly used medication and I’d also like to work on developing medication or alternative care that does have the intended effects, without the side effects of traditional medication." An ambitious goal, but she was nothing if not ambitious.

"Mmhm." She nods. "A well-thought plan in a well-rounded world."
She pauses a bit, turning the now warm cup in her hand. "Let's say, hypothetically, that civil war broke down. Would you still try to pursue this plan? Or would you try to find another way to fulfill your ambition?"

Was that sarcasm, or was she being too defensive? Katja pushed the question away to focus on the woman’s next words. "That’s an oddly specific scenario." Especially since she didn’t feel like a civil war was brewing… well, not more than usually at any rate. "I guess that would depend on what that civil war is about. If there’s a side I identify with, I’d probably try to help it and look for a way to still achieve my other goals. If I don’t identify with any side, I’d look for a way to go back to Germany and continue my research there."

She smiles. "Alright, I see." She takes another long sip. "I don't think a civil war is brewing, to answer your mental question. I was merely trying to pint-point your drive since I wasn't sure if your project was based on a short-term need to change the world or a long-term one. It does seem like it's the latter."

Was she telepathic, or merely good at reading body language? Katja wouldn’t be particularly surprised by either. "It’s a bit of both. I want to change the world as quickly as possible, but I want the changes to last." There was no point in a brief surge of acceptance and harmony if things went to shit immediately afterwards.

She chuckles heartily, rising slightly her cup. "Here's to that." Anastasia respects that. Because usually, people wish for comfort as long as they're alive. Her own generation is the best proof of that, they fucked everything over after taking more than their part, then leaving what's left to the youngsters - what's left being a lot of problems. "Remember when I said I wanted to suggest to the board to add an X-Gen module on medical studies? I did mean that."

The raised cup reminded Katja of the one still in her hand (good thing she wasn’t Italian or she’d have spilled half of it) and she took her first sip. Hmm, for a coffee from a campus coffee machine it was pretty good. "And I guess it’s not something you only just came up with during the debate?" It didn’t sound like the kind of project you committed to without thinking it through thoroughly.

"Touché." She smiles. "I've already suggested it before. And now I think it's time to refresh the demand. Anyway," She finishes her cup then throws it in the bin, the rings on her fingers shone brilliantly when her hand was exposed to the sun for a second; she was still standing in the shadows provided by the arcade above them. "What do you think about paid internships as a researcher assistant? You'd still be able to work on your doctorate. But you'd have other projects too to manage."

In all honesty, she thought that it sounded pretty awesome. But she had enough common sense to reign in her enthusiasm (but not her smile) and probe a little more before replying: "What kind of projects?" And if the woman said "research projects", Katja would not be amused.

"You'll start with the R&D team at Avenzoar for now. It's a psychiatric hospital specialized in mutants." The girl doesn't seem aware of the old rumors surrounding Avenzoar, she also didn't react when Anastasia said the name earlier. "You'll be part of a team that works on researching projects and finding ways to implement them."
In Anastasia's viewpoint, enthusiasm is essential, but one needs to have an idea of how research projects are born, how are they funded, and all the struggle; it's a nice start to recalibrate one's expectations. "You'll have to visit to have a better idea, of course." And also to sign a clause of confidentiality.

A psychiatric hospital specialised in mutants still sounded awfully like a horror story, but she would give it the benefit of doubt. There were bound to be mutants needing psychiatric care. She’d keep an open mind and, if her fears turned out to be well-founded, she knew who to call to end it. And in that case it wouldn’t hurt to be on the inside. If her fears weren’t well-founded, it was a fantastic opportunity to achieve her own goals. So it was a win either way. "Yes, I probably would. I’ve only had superficial contacts with mental health care, so I’d love to learn more about this field." She was sincere, despite having ulterior motives.

"Splendid!" She explained while clapping her hands as if to close the deal. She then passes her phone to the girl. "Do add your number, dear. You can ask me questions now, but you'll probably have more later. "

With her coffee still in one hand, Katja used the other to enter her number. "Could you text me so I have yours?" Because otherwise, she’d have a hard time asking any questions she might have. Or she’d have to look up the woman in a phone directory or something (if these things even still existed).

Since she was already about to, she texts her name while talking in the process. "I'd also be interested in learning more about your research subject." She adds before looking at her after finishing texting. "I do sponsor a lot of interesting ones regularly."

And there came another very interesting, too-good-to-be-true offer. Was Katja paranoid, or was this all really convenient? Once again, she’d wait until she had more information to make up her mind. "I’d love to discuss it with you. I’m in the design stage at the time." Meaning that she had gotten her proposal approved and found an advisor, but that she was still tweaking the exact form her research would take.

"Brilliant. I hope to hear from you soon, then, Katja." She offers her hand with a beaming smile. It is one thing to get an offer, and another to keep the job. Anastasia wonders if the impression she has of her will be lasting, or would crumble easily.
Despite her experience, she still doesn't trust first impressions easily.

Beaming back, Katja shook her hand. "You will. I’m looking forward to meeting you again." And to figuring out if she was a benefactor or a mad scientist. Both options would be equally interesting, although one would end better than the other.

"Bis zum nächsten mal."
And there she goes, heels clickings against the floor as she disappears from sight. Not having an idea that her carefully constructed plan would get out of hands rather quickly in the real near future.