---

Mason turned the key in room 139 and eagerly pushed the door open. He'd been fortunate enough to always have somewhere to live, but over the last few years his income had not really been able to provide him the luxury he'd been afforded growing up. He was excited to see the living space he and Zachariah would be sharing.

It was pretty nice, actually. A damn sight better than some of the places he'd rented in Berlin, anyway. The floor was dark wood, but there was a large orange rug covering most of the floorspace and matching the orange bedding. Mason hated orange, but he figured if it began to bother him that much, he and Zach could always replace it. He was also going to struggle adapting to a single bed, as the last time he'd been without a double was at boarding school.

Still, it had everything he needed. There was lots of space to store his belongings, which he noticed had been placed neatly in the corner of the room. He had too much stuff and too little energy to even consider unpacking right now, but he placed his luggage onto the bed tucked away in the corner. He hoped Zach didn't mind; Mason always found it easier to sleep if his bed was against a wall. Plus, it gave Zach the advantage of being closer to the bathroom, so he didn't imagine it would be too much of a problem.

After a quick check to ensure nothing had been removed from his bags, Mason headed out of the room and locked the door behind him. He remembered Professor Portwood had mentioned something about some sort of welcome feast, and Mason figured that would be as good a place as any to meet people. As much as Mason enjoyed solitude, he always found it easier to be around people. It distracted him and stopped him from thinking too much.

When he arrived in the canteen it was busy, but large enough that there was still ample seating available. Mason spotted some private booths beside the serving area, but soon realised that these were for the staff only as their occupants were considerably older. Mason's stomach growled at the scent of all the food on offer, when was the last time he'd eaten? The journey here had become a blur. Regardless, he didn't feel like eating right now, he reasoned with himself as he poured a cup of black coffee and looked for somewhere to sit.

Scanning the area, he quickly spotted the flashes of pink hair amongst the crowd. It was Casper, the shy-looking kid from the bus. Looking at him was a frightful reminder of Mason's time at boarding school; from the way Casper held himself to the way he seemed to stand out from the crowd despite wanting nothing more than to blend in, the similarities were almost eerie to Mason. They hadn't gotten a chance to properly chat, and so he figured now was as good a time as ever; Casper was sat on his own, drinking what looked like hot chocolate. It smelled delicious.

"It's Casper, right?" Mason asked the young boy. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, smiling warmly. He didn't wait for a response, though, as he pulled out the wooden chair and placed down his steaming cup of coffee.

"Uh...s-sure..." Casper looked up at the new arrival. It was Mason, the guy from before. It would seem like others came to Casper, after all. This made things a lot easier and it would make getting to know this person, Mason, a lot more possible. The first step was always the hardest to make and now Mason had taken it upon himself to take it.

Staring down into his cup of hot chocolate, Casper saw a faint form shaping upon the surface, his reflection. He did indeed feel his sotmach growling but eating with this many people surrounding him wasn't comfortable. Perhaps he could grab a sandwich and eat it in his room. The only reason he landed at a table here was because he didn't want to carry a hot cup of liquid all the way back to his room. Was he even allowed to do that? They owned the cup, after all. The cafeteria probably wanted it to remain. "Hi..." Casper gulped, not looking up just wait. His voice was quiet, but it could be heard easily enough from where Mason had found home.

"Are you..." Casper continued, feeling his heart beating like a jackhammer against his ribs. "A-are you...getting along with..." He was almost done, just one more word. "People...?" The boy looked up, meeting Mason's eyes with his own, large brown circles. They would perhaps speak of innocence but the anxiety was easily seen within. Casper had both hands on the cup, as if to keep them occupied. This way he wouldn't accedently hurt anyone.

It didn't take a great degree of empathic skill to spot that Casper was painfully anxious; the panic was present in everything about the boy, from the look in his eyes to the tremble of his voice and the way he cupped his drink so firmly. Mason knew how condescending it felt for people to point out things like this, and so he responded as best he could: be smiling that infamous, comforting smile of his. When Mason smiled, his whole face lit up and his eyes shimmered. It was an effect he couldn't replicate faultlessly when he was smiling insincerely, and so people who spent enough time around him when he was happy could usually tell when he was keeping up a facade.

"Yeah, so far so good!" he said, in response to Casper's question. "I don't think I was everyone on the bus's cup of tea," he laughed. "But my roommate seems pretty friendly. I think we'll get along. How about you?" he asked, purposefully looking at Casper with an expression of interest and curiosity.

"M-me..?" Oh dear, Casper wasn't expecting that question to come around. He actually assumed that Mason would just expect Casper to be the outcast he was and run with it. He seemed so...polite, though. Was this good? Perhaps. At the very least, Casper wasn't feeling uncomfortable around this young man. In fact, the boy's grip around his cup, albiet slight, loosned further. "You're...you're the first..." He couldn't help but trail back down to the chocolate with his eyes. "I...I haven't met my roommate yet..."

Perhaps he was somewhere in that cafeteria. Perhaps he was close by, perhaps he was behind a tree somewhere doing drugs. You never know. "Y-you...you're Mason...right?" He just wanted to make sure that he had gotten the name right, at least that much needed to be correct if this was going to go on without fault.

Mason smiled. "Yep, that's me." he said, chuckling. "I hope I'm not already making a bad name for myself." he joked. He watched the way Casper's eyes drifted back to his beverage as he thought about the roommate he had yet to meet. It was obviously something that worried the boy. "And hey, don't worry about your roommate." he said reassuringly, as he tried to regain eye contact with Casper. "Mine is--"

Mason was distracted by a commotion a few feet away; it seemed that some of the students were getting into a fight already. It didn't take long to realise that one of them was Zach, yelling incoherently at another boy and raising a chair high above his head. He winced.

"Mine is... About to beat the shit outta some guy..." he sighed, before looking at Casper and rolling his eyes. "I guess I have to intervene, right?" he asked the boy.

What the hell was that!? No, Casper shook his head. That was a bad thought. He couldn't just go around thinking people looked like...monsters....because of some kind of deformity or the like. That would be incredibly rude. If he could slap himself without killing himself, he would. "A...a...f-fight...?" Casper gulped, turning to look at the commotion which had stolen everyone's attention at this point. "I don't...I...." He felt himself growing critically uncomfortable and was almost ready to run out of the cafeteria. That would however cause another problem, if he just ran away, Everyone would look at him.

"If...if you c-can..." The boy finished, looking at Mason. Of course one should stick up for their friends. If Casper had the backbone to do so, he would.

Mason grimaced. "I'll be back," he said, taking a sip of his coffee and walking over to the ruckus. "Za-- Switch, dude," he said, getting the attention of his scabby roommate. "What's going on?" he asked, standing between Zach and his aggressor and holding up his arms, as though to calm him down.

"This grahs thucking jackal 'on't listen to 'hat I 'ath tah say!" Zach replied, "An' 'e called 'e a da'n THREAK 'hen 'E'S the 'un 'at 'ON'T 'LAY A 'ART IN THE REST A' THIS STAHRY." He glanced back at his opponent and jabbed the chair legs in his direction.

Mason grabbed hold of the chair leg, and gently pulled the chair down towards the ground. "C'mon, Switch," he said encouragingly. It was against his true will; by the sounds of it, the guy had called Zach a freak. Mason could think of few words that had hurt him less as a kid, and part of Mason wanted him to get everything he deserved. But he knew better than to react with violence.

"This fucker's not worth it.", he said to Zach, looking him directly in the eyes.

"NNNNNGGGGG-" Zach replied, head reared and fists shaking. He took a moment to calm himself down and looked back up at the young man. He pointed at him and called out, "'Er LUCKY 'e 'as 'ere!" With that he turned away and began marching towards the cafeteria exit.

Mason watched Zach leave, relieved that no harm had been done. As much as he would have preferred a solitary living space, he didn't want his roommate dead on their first day at the school. He turned to the guy who had provoked Zach, one eyebrow raised cynically.

"A freak? Really?" he asked, talking down to the guy. They were of a similar age, but this one was more athletic than Mason, wearing a varsity jacket that was just tight enough to show off his physique. Well, fuck... Mason thought. He had to wrap this up and get out. "Was there any need?" he asked, turning his back on the jock and making his way back towards Casper.

The next thing he knew, he was colliding with the ground, and could feel the guy's knee pressing into his lower back, his hands grappling Mason's shoulders. "Just who d'ya think you are, faggot?" he spat. "Parading around in your gay-ass gear like you're some kinda cop? Fuck, I oughta teach you a lesson..." he grunted. Mason couldn't move an inch.

'Do something, Casper...Do something!' The boy sat paralysed watching the scene unfold before his eyes. The other male had left, the one who had been bullied, but now it turned on Mason. 'Why the hell is no one doing anything...why isn't anyone helping him!' Casper felt his entire body starting to shake, his blood rising to his head. No one did anything because no one wanted to be part of the issue. No one wanted to step up, it was the bystander effect. "You can sit here and watch the only guy who gave a fuck about you get beaten up, or you can do something...for fuck sake, if you have this power, at the very least...use it!' No, no he couldn't do it. He couldn't hurt anyone else.

'If you don't hurt this asshole, Mason will be hurt. Is that better? If Mason get's hurt, you're the one at fault, Casper...get your ass in gear and do something!' Before he could react to his own actions, Casper jolted up from the chair and charged the scene. His speed surprised even himself and closed the distance in mere seconds. "P-please...let him go..." He could feel the energy in his legs rapidly leaving his body. This was a mistake, this was such a big mistake.

"Oh look! Another little faggot? What will you do, huh?" The bully chuckled, still pinning Mason down.

"Casper," Mason grunted from beneath the jock's weight. "Leave it, buddy." he said. He didn't want Casper to get hurt, and Mason was more than familiar with this kind of situation. "It's not worth it."

"I...I don't want to hurt you...please...let him go..." Casper pleaded but to no avail. In fact, it made the bully laugh harder. Mason thought getting involved wasn't worth it but he was wrong. It was worth it. Sure, Casper had only known this guy Mason for like five minutes but...you don't need a reason to help people. You don't...

"Hurt me!?" The bully shook his head. "I think you've got this a bit..."

"Stop..." Casper cut him off, clenching his teeth and fists. Taking another step forward he shoved his hand forth and grabbed the larger, much larger, male by the shirt and tossed him across the floor. Needless to say, the boy was completely shocked from what he had just done and stood watching the bully trying to regain his composure.

"Well, shit..." Mason choked in awe, rubbing the back of his neck as he rose to his feet. He looked at the guy, then at Casper, then back at the guy. "You kept that quiet!" he laughed to Casper, watching the larger guy leave the canteen with his head down. "Thanks, Casper... You didn't have to do that." he said, feeling an odd mix of gratitutde and guilt for dragging the boy into this. He chuckled again at the image of the tiny boy throwing the jock across the room. "But I'm not gonna lie... I'm really glad you did."

"Y..you're w-welcome..." Casper stammered, not even looking at Mason before hurrying out of the cafeteria. Did he just do that? It was the first day and he had already put himself on everyone's radar...It would take a while for him to get back from this. The boy hoped to get to his room but barely even knew where he was heading as he continued towards the exit. 'Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why...why did I do that? I helped Mason and...and it felt good...why did it feel good!? Did it feel good to hurt that ass or did it feel good to help Mason...? I don't know I just...I...' He wante to fall down to his knees and break down but not here, not in front of everyone...

Mason watched the timid kid flee from the canteen. He sighed, and shook his head. Casper had shown that he had so much potential, he doubted he was alone in underestimating the boy thus far, but he also got the feeling that the person who underestimated him the most was Casper himself.

He returned to the table, and sat alone as he drunk the rest of his coffee. The black liquid was cold now, and the taste more bitter. As he sat, the Yorkshireman stood up on the table and began to cause quite the scene, demonstrating a creative use of telekinesis before insisting that others show their powers. Everything about the proposition seemed like a bad idea to Mason, who rolled his eyes as he sipped the last of the liquid from his cup. Perfect time for a cigarette...

He rose from his seat and headed straight out of the cafeteria, through the reception and out into the grounds. It was a beautiful day, and Mason fished out his sunglasses again, perching them delicately on the tip of his nose as he lit his cigarette and drew a long, satisfying breath. Mason had little interest in demonstrating his powers to anyone.

---

Zach opened the door to room 139 and stepped inside. He was immediately made subject to the lavish interior, with the modernized furniture and fixings, and the overall sense of comfort. And what was his response to the notion that he’d be living here for a while?

_{“Nnnggg…”}

As he walked further in, his phone buzzed in his hoodie pocket. It was his dad. Had to be, he didn’t have any other contacts. He pulled it out and switched it on.

U there yet



It was funny. Nearly opposite personalities, yet Zach was the one who employed proper spelling and grammar in his texts, while Keagan wrote like a goddamn child.

How is it



Nothing after that. Zach put his phone away and proceeded to claim one of the available beds as his own, noticing the other was already situated with a few bags and trunks that obviously belonged to Mason. Looks like he had the common decency to leave him the bed closer to the bathroom; the more practical one over the more comfortable one. Eh, he didn’t really care enough to argue. A bed was a bed. He set all his stuff atop it – which wasn’t much – and took a seat. Boredom quickly set in, and he considered getting back out on the campus to do some exploring. Then he figured that’d be what was expected of him. Oh, but he wanted to get a feel of the place, so he decided on an alternative.

And God, it was a pretty bad alternative.

Zach got up and strolled on over to the bathroom. He stepped inside, locked the door, ignored the pleasant appearance, and proceeded to undress. Underneath his normal clothes was a slim, two-piece, shiny, silver jumpsuit. A Nomex fire-resistant uniform. Usually meant for fire fighters, but Keagan bought it online to solve the problem of Zach’s clothes getting torn and burnt whenever he utilized his abilities. He tossed aside his hoodie, jeans, gloves, shoes, and socks. All he was left in was the Nomex. He sat down on the toilet with both lids down and took his goggles off, revealing his swollen, irritated, pale-blue eyes. He set his goggles on the sink counter, leaned back, shut his eyes, and relaxed.

Complete, utter silence for nary a moment.

Twitching.

Sparks.

And suddenly, from Zach’s body jumped forth a humanoid being of bright, blue, pulsing energy. Thankfully, there wasn’t any big outward surge like there used to be, when he first discovered he could do this. He leapt forward and floated above the bathroom floor, taking caution not to accidently poke his clothes with his specter-feet.

He turned his head around the bathroom, noticing a wall socket across from the toilet. If he was going to explore, he might as well do it in his own unique manner. He hunched forward and began to dematerialize, the veins and energy making up his incorporeal form spiraling into the socket. Now, he was loose inside the school’s wiring. And he had an hour to do whatever until he had to get back to his organic body.

Maybe he’d have a little fun and start a rumor that there’s a spooky ghost running arou- oh nevermind who the hell would even buy that.

Hugging himself on his bed, Casper had luckily found his way to the dorms. 'What did I do? I actually used my powers to hurt someone...' The boy's fingers almost dug into his skin as he has holding onto himself. 'No...I didn't do it to hurt anyone, I did it help Mason...' No matter how many times he was going to justify it, the truth remained. Casper had tossed someone across the room and probably damaged him some in the process as well. Did he think that the jock deserved it? Of course he did, the guy was a complete ass. Though, he didn't want to be the one punishing him. 'You didn't do it to punish him, you did it help out a frie-...Mason.'

Casper's tight embrace loosened and he dropped back down on his bed. What would come of this? Some people might have thought it funny to see a little kid like Casper go up against a jock and brought their cellphones up to film the whole thing. It might not have been that bad but at this point, the kid was worried about anything.

'At least Mason's safe now...' It was worth helping Mason, that was something the boy would not deny. It was worth helping a fellow human being. Casper enjoyed helping people whenever he could and this was a prime time to do so. Had he not intervened, things would have been worse off. Mason would have been humiliated and beaten to a pulp, would that have been better? No, Casper was more prepared to deal with his anxiety than letting Mason go through something like that. The only thing Mason had done was help his roommate, he didn't deserve to be punished for it.

With a heavy sigh, Casper placed his hand on his growling stomach. He would need to eat something but going back into the cafeteria today would be social suicide. Everyone would surround him and he would surely have a mental breakdown. The boy turned and sat up in the bed, looking at his Vita placed on the bedside table. No, he didn't quite feel like he wanted to play now. Perhaps he should go and check in on Mason, but where was he? There was no telling where the young man could be. With little else to do, Casper decided to simply unpack. He would have to do it at some point and now was better than never.

It didn't take very long before he was done with the task, placing everything neatly in the closet. A 'brilliant' idea crossed Casper's mind at that moment and he judged it better than sitting around doing nothing. If he did that, his anxiety would simply grow with more bad thoughts. The best thing he could do now was actually to be around someone. He thought that he'd say something like that to himself but it was the truth, for once. This was all so alien. Casper had never, ever, hurt anyone before let alone in the way he did. He had never protected anyone else before either, especially not in this way. Alien problems can sometimes require alien solutions. He would seriously need to see a therapist after all of this was over.

In his trail of thoughts, Casper soon found himself in front of the reception where he saw the same bubbly woman from before. "H-hello..." He stammered quietly, unable to meet her eyes.

"Hello, honey. How many I help you?"

"Mason's room...?"

"It's Room 139, sweetheart. Are you making friends already? That's wonderful!"

"Y-yeah..." Casper didn't look at her but rather kept walking towards the room she had provided. Upon reaching his destination, the boy knocked on the door a few times. Who said that Mason was even there...?

Kane had already finished up his mashed potatoes, and had moved on to his macaroni, he had up to 4 spoon fulls of it in his mouth when Mako sat down next to him. Well shit. Kane said to himself as he watched Mako. Could a man not enjoy his food in peace for a few minutes? Mako began to drone on, asking him questions about his meat addiction. In reality, Kane really loved meat, he could not understand why anyone to become a veggie. These animals were put on the earth for a reason, it would be a shame to have then all go to waste.

By the time Kane was able to swallow all his food, Mako was already in a much different subject. He had jumped on the table, and started to introduce himself to...everyone. He even went as far as to demonstrate his ability. Kane would not join in, he really was not to comfortable telling everyone he could change his skin into any metal.

"Are you getting down, bonne homme?" Kane said with a slightly angry tone, with Mako's rather unnoticed display, he had spilled his drink all over the floor.

Most people weren't even paying attention to Mako since the commotion across the room had everyone watching. Some guy was threatening a rather large guy with a chair. Kane frowned, he had been in enough altercations to know that it was possible that the big guy was the one that started it. Kane slowly stood up, if that guy was about to start something with the scrawny kid, Kane would help him out.

Fortunately there was someone calm enough to stop the whole thing from happening. It was that Mason guy from the bus, apparently he knew the skinny kid with the chair, and calmed him down. Kane shrugged, it seemed that everything had calmed down. Unfortunately, the big guy had not, he through Mason to the ground and through out a line of insults. Kane made his way over to the alteration , but it was over before he knew it, Casper had basically thrown the bully away. Kane frowned and went back to his seat. Things had really been taken care of, Kane took a seat were he originally was and sighed.

"Well shit." Kane said to himself, it was all he could get out.

Greg's head snapped up. He put his hands over his ears, wincing, as three voices filled his head all at once, screaming louder than any others.

He bristled with fury, the word freak burned into his brain. He brimmed with anger, violence, and then fear, indignation, someone was trying to calm things down -

Greg let out a breath, gasping. Someone was on the ground, pinned to the ground, the word they hated being shouted into their ear. Impotence, anger, frustration...
A fourth voice entered the uproar, quieter at first and growing louder. Greg recognized this one as the scared boy, out of his element. Casper.

Have to help, friend facedown, crushed for his kindness, not to choose is a choice.

Greg ground his teeth as the impact filled the ground. Someone had gotten tossed.

Greg breathed, in and out, forcing his heartrate to calm. He looked down at the half-eaten sandwich sitting on a plate on his new bedside table, his appetite drained. The first three voices faded back to join the usual tumult, but the fourth remained, only growing louder if anything.

Not strong enough for strength, harmed, hurt, hit, judge, jury, and executioner, undeserving.

The voice carried on in that self-flagellating manner. Despite his best efforts, Greg began to gain a modicum of understanding for the boy, so long had the voice been present. That was unusual - it generally took him at least a few days before his 'regulars' started telling him more about themselves. His name was Casper. He was strong, stronger than he thought he should be. He was terribly frightened, and terribly alone, and terribly... terribly... close.

In a daze, Greg stepped out of his room, forgetting to lock it behind him. He walked down the hall, his eyes opening and closing and not really seeing anything.

what if he's not there what if he's scared of me what if he doesn't want me what if they don't like me

There he was, just down the hall. Greg slumped against a wall as the boy knocked on the door in front of him a few times. "He's not in," Greg called out after the third or fourth knock. "He's not in, and you were very brave and very strong and did a very good thing and just please, please QUIET DOWN."

Day one, perhaps an hour in, and already there was a fight. Though the defending kid wasn't exactly easy on the eyes, Chess had seen enough bullies to connect "jock build loud voice" with "asshole". More people got involved, most notably at first was the artsy boy from before with the unfortunate nicotine habit. Friends, perhaps? Maybe roommates? Oh what a great introduction to one another that must have been.

Then however came a most unexpected intervention from the goth kid. Casper, was it? It was, yes, he remembered now. Unexpected in both the fact that he involved himself at all, and how he did so. Chess had expected the bully to spare a moment and clock the small boy over the head, but when he blinked, he saw the larger boy across the floor, scrambling to his feet and shuffling away. What? What had happened? Had Casper done it or had it been one of the other people? Dammit, he hated missing out on information, especially when it pertained to the people he'd probably be spending the next few years around. In school he'd gone out of his way to know the names, hobbies, and even the dirty little secrets of damn near every student popular or otherwise, and even though it was a new environment, Chess didn't like how little footing he had here.

Soon as the fight had started, it was over. People dispersed, and Chess began to feel that he'd spent enough time in the cafeteria thus far. He finished his coffee, then, in a split decision, decided to follow after the artsy boy, Mason. Smoker or not, the kid was perhaps the most cultured individual he'd seen thus far, it would certainly be worth it to at least try and get to know him.

It wasn't hard to find him, the smell of smoke was powerful and unmistakable to his less-than-accustomed nose. When he approached Mason, he'd expected to make some suave introduction, but his throat was scratchy from the smell, and when he opened his mouth what came out was "Ah hello-" and then a spiraling devolve into a coughing fit.

The man certainly liked to go on. Celso sat watching the portly man go on at length about his school. He supposed it made sense. The Insititute was his bay after all. His talk of the history of the school was disappointingly empty of detail however. Sure he gushed about its purpose and how close that purpose was to his heart. He couldn't help but think Cesar would've just soaked this up with joy. Celso however, sat there aware of the holes in the story. Professor Portwood seemed to completely gloss over the negative. It made sense though. First day with open doors again, he couldn't be expected to say anything that wasn't full of hope and optimism. The rest of the speech was just and outline of the obvious. Typical school rules and routines, except for the lines about abuse of abilities and stuff like that.

Celso took the opportunity to take a better look at the assembly hall. Large and elegant, and far nicer than any building he'd ever been in, especially any school building. It was clear they spared no expense. The students around him varied greatly. Even coming from such a cosmopolitan city as he did, he could only remember a few times that he was around such a variety of people at one time. And that was without the difference their unseen abilities would provide. Each with their own motivation for coming here, their own gifts, their own struggles, their own stories. Everyone had a story, he'd often thought as he walked unseen through the streets of Buenos Aires. Some more exciting than others. Did the mutant status of all the students here make their stories interesting by default? Were they all worth his attention? Would it be offensive if he considered their gifts as just a feature to make them special? Could he get to know these people without getting all into a cause of some sort like his family? He guessed it didn't matter at this point. He was here and he was going to be a writer. Whatever happened from there, he'd just have to accept.

After dealing with an annoyingly happy lady with an unnerving level of knowledge, a short trip to his dorm, and another short trip to the cafeteria, he found himself seated at a table with strangers. He was hiding. Well, more like dull. The five people at his table could clearly see him, but they were content to treat the stranger who said nothing and ate his food as if he wasn't even there. But why was he hiding? He'd never been shy. And yet somehow, surrounded by strangers who he knew to be different in a similar way to himself, he was hesistant to make himself known. But the students around him did nothing to betray that they were different from normal teenagers in any way. They were discussing their homes, celebrities, and sports using the same American slang he'd seen on television. One of the boys was even flirting with the girls. Poorly.

He had finished eating and begun walking out when a commotion arose on the other end of the dining area. It seemed a few of the students, apparently unable to wait even one day got into some big fight. The other students were rising to get a look and so he couldn't quite make out the details. All he could see was a darker looking boy. Something off but he couldn't quite tell from there. He yelled something and stormed off. Assuming it was over, Celso began walking again. A collective gasp caught his attention and her turned to find the largest one was flying through the air at him. Stunned, he didn't even think to move as he was frozen in place. He watched as the body narrowly missed him and sped right past him, hitting the floor a few feet away. Eyes wide he walked to the other boy. "Que barbaro! Are you all okay? What happened?" he held a hand out to him, but he merely turned his head. Refusing Celso's help, the guy glared angrily in the direction of the other boys and then turned to walk out without a word.

He turned to find a boy was making vegetables float around, apparently oblivious to what had just happened. Celso suddenly became very aware of how ridiculous and interesting this year was going to be. With all the crazy things, what could possibly make him nervous about interacting with these people. So long as he wasn't the next one to be flung across a room. He smiled and exited the cafeteria. He'd had the idea to check out the gym and get a look at the swimming pool after lunch. As much as he was looking forward to getting to know these people now, he didn't really like the idea of sitting down after he'd already eaten. Besides there had to be others who had already finished. He headed up the stairs feeling happier and more optimistic. In his current mood he was sure to stand out a little more. Which was just how he liked it.

---

Mason was enjoying the relative peace of the outdoors, and as he drew from his cigarette he gradually felt his heartbeat and breathing return to a normal pace. The incident in the canteen had shaken him considerably, but if there was one thing Mason was good at, it was hiding his feelings. It wasn't so much about deception as it was about maintaining a sense of security. Exposing himself made him feel vulnerable, and through his years of rejection he had learned that the closest he could come to not letting things hurt him, was to simply pretend they didn't and convince others it was true.

As he surveyed the grounds, he was reminded of the elaborate country homes he had visited back home. Places like the grand halls of Hardwick and Woolaton, or the fine palaces of ancient nobility. He loved the heritage his homelands had, and the gardens here were designed in a similar style. He looked out to the woodlands... They were just perfect for exploring. He was sure if he brought his camera along with him, he would get some excellent shots.

His thoughts were interrupted by a brief attempt at an introduction, though unfortunately for the person approaching him, Mason had just let out a long breath of smoke directly into the boy's face, causing him to cough and splutter violently.

"Shit, sorry," Mason said with an air of sincerity, before realising that it was the snobbish guy from the bus stop. Mason smirked ever-so-slightly to himself and felt slightly less guilty about the situation. "It's Abbey, right?" he asked, knowing exactly what he was doing.

This was not at all how Chess had planned it. It took a good handful of seconds before he had finished coughing up his lungs, and even then he could taste the tar on the back of his throat. For a brief moment he wondered if this had been a good idea at all, and if the company of the artsy boy was worth the second-hand-turbo-death he would surely contract from just being around him.

He turned his head away, gesturing for a pause with his hand before taking a deep, clean breath. Don't be silly, Chess, you've endured worse for less. When he turned back, he wiped his eyes of the moisture that had begun to collect there and gave Mason a nod. No, wait, no that wasn't correct, he'd said Abbey. Had he listened earlier, back at the bus stop? If he'd heard "Abbey" surely he'd heard "Chess for preference".

"Erh...no. I mean, yes, and good for remembering, but it's Chess if you don't mind," he said, giving his throat one more round of clearing coughs. "Apologies, I hadn't anticipated such a...welcoming."

One hand extended out to Mason, he once again donned a grin, and his eyes once more took on their devious gleam. "You're Mason, right? The smoker without a lighter?"

Mason smiled as he shook the boy's hand, a glint of mischief in his eye. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "And yeah, that's me. Though, I'm more than just a smoker, I promise!" he laughed, realising the impression that Chess must have had of him. Thus far, their two interactions had been based upon Mason needing a light and Chess being gassed by Mason's fumes. Abbey must have thought he was an addict or something, which Mason would deny profusely... However true it may have been.

In fact, Mason specifically remembered some kind of comment being made back at the bus-stop. That kid Greg had pointed it out. Mason thought it best to address it; he was the type of person who recognised that problems were easily solved through discussion.

"Hey, Ab--" he said, before correcting himself. "Chess. I, uh, hope we didn't get off on the wrong foot back at the bus stop." he said, trying to keep his tone as far away from one of conflict as he could. "If I annoyed you, then I apologise." In truth, Mason wasn't really sorry; he'd only wanted a lighter, after all. But he figured it was better to make friends than enemies.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when Mason brought up the little bus stop fiasco. Dammit, Greg. Even far away from each other on campus and that power of his was getting him in trouble.

"Oh that? Don't think anything of it, that was just...that's Greg. He's my roommate you see, real joker, that one. Telepath or something, you know how they are," Chess said, wanting to quickly dismiss the topic. "And I'm sure you're more than a smoker, just looking at you I can tell you've got an eye for the creative. What do you do? I mean, besides attending a mutant school, and saving odd-looking folks from bullies. And smoke, of course." Dumb tone, damn, he'd meant to make that sound more jokey.

Mason smiled as Abbey seemed to squirm in the scenario. He nodded in agreement, though in truth he had little idea of just how telepaths 'were'. Until coming to the school, he hadn't really had much interaction with other mutants. Heck, he hadn't had any interaction with other mutants.

He laughed when Abbey asked what he did, mentioning the incident from the canteen. It seemed he was already making a name for himself... As long as people thought of him as the peacekeeper and not the brawler, he could handle the speculation. Though deep down, he knew that most people probably saw him as an interferring busy-body for getting involved at all.

"I paint," he said, matter-of-factly. "I paint a lot, actually. Mostly acrylic and oil stuff, you know. But I dabble in watercolour. Aside from that, I uh... I don't really know. I read a lot of poetry, I guess; Renaissance stuff, mostly." He went quiet for a second. "And yoga. I really dig yoga, I like to... Keep fit." he paused again, awkwardly, before cracking a joke to break the silence: "And, of course, I smoke!" He chuckled, and dropped the cigarette butt to the floor, stubbing it out beneath the rubber sole of his shoe.

"And what about you, Chess?" he asked. "Was it 'Actor, entertainer, comedian'?" he asked, smiling wryly as he recalled the boy's dramatically self-serving introduction. It wasn't something that alienated Mason; he was pretty pretentious himself, after all. At least when it came to the arts.

An artist by more than his clothes, then. Good, Chess had suspected as much. He enjoyed art himself, though when it came to actually admiring it, or appreciating it for more than "this looks pretty" or "ah yes emotion in that one", he more or less had to talk out of thin air. Still, he had respect for people who could handle a brush with a level of expertise, the art department at his old school had been very closely knit with the theatre kids, working together on many of the productions' backgrounds and set pieces. He'd even gone out with an art-section fellow once, though it was more because Chess wanted a little more sway in the set management than anything else, and it had ended swiftly once the play had run its course.

Chess preened like a peacock when Mason brought up -more or less- what he'd said he did, smile widening ever so slightly.

"Yes indeed! Though debator rather than comedian, never had the thing for stand-up. Acting since I could stand on a stage, haven't stopped since. Nothing like a good role, a nice set, and a full house to bring an evening together, I say."

He suddenly remembered the theater department here, and had to reiterate his previous mental note to stop by soon and get his foot in. Stupid, advantage was everything.

"So poetry and yoga, you sound like a few of my old friends starting college. Always easy to pick out our kind, isn't it? If we don't smoke, we drink, if we don't drink, we exercise, or any combination of the three, really."

Mason began to warm to Chess the more he spoke. He had lost touch with the art scene after he went into hiding back in Berlin, and speaking with someone as theatrically-inclined as Chess was brought Mason both a sense of nostalgia and a yearning for a similiar sense of community. So much so, that when Chess mentioned a decent set, an idea sprung into Mason's head.

"Fuck, you know what we should totally do?" Mason asked enthusiastically, his excitement getting the better of him. "We should host like... Some kind of arts night. All mediums and practices welcome. We could show off students work..." he said, getting lost in his trail of thought. He gesticulated dramatically as he spoke. "You know, paintings, drama, poetry recitals... I make art-films too, I could screen one of those... Hey, you could even act in one!"

It was at this point that Mason realised he was getting ahead of himself. He chuckled in embarrassment and looked sheepishly at the floor, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry, haha. I get a little carried away sometimes..."

Chess was taken aback by the other boy's enthusiasm, to say the least. He'd seen artists who enjoyed what they did, but never so quickly. It was a bit refreshing, and a pleasant surprise to find that there were still people who took their work seriously enough to go out and do something about it.

No one just remembers you for nothing.

"Well, I can't say I don't admire your initiative. It's been a while since I've been to any sort of gallery, I rather miss the atmosphere myself," he said, offering a warm smile. "Perhaps it's a bit early to throw one yet though, maybe a week or so in, we can get the lay of the land, scope out some good feature artists, see what we can put together. Might even be a good place for some of these students to put their powers to a more...creative use,hm?"

A gallery did sound like a good idea, and what better way to show some talent, directive and contributive, to the school. Surely such an event would earn him some credit, maybe even just enough to get himself in with the theatre crowd. This meeting had certainly been a good idea.

"I like it, love it even. Here," Chess took a pen and pad from his pocket, tore a sheet free and scribbled his number onto it. "This is my business number, you think of any more ideas for this little gallery, text me, call me, whichever. I'll keep my eyes peeled for other artists, maybe plan out event lists, sound good?"

Mason beamed when he realised Chess wasn't going to shoot him down. It seemed that his first impressions of the guy had been deceiving; Chess was actually pretty cool, it turned out. He tooked the paper gratefully.

"Thanks, Chess," he grinned. "That sounds great. I'll definitely be in touch."

Chess nodded to him, then tucked the pen and pad away. Good meeting, good indeed, Mason wasn't nearly the black-lunged-junkie he'd imagined at the bus stop. Oh god, he wondered if Greg had heard any of that as well. Damned if he was gonna let that kid ruin anything.

Calm down, christ, it's just the two of you and everything's gone smoothly. He gave Mason one more smile, then started off.

"Good to know, hear from you soon, maybe see you in classes. Cheers, or however it goes," he said, and then made his way back inside.

Where next, the cafeteria? No, already been there, maybe back to the room? No, Greg would be around, and on top of everything else he actually didn't want to disturb the kid. He didn't seem like he had it particularly easy in the head, probably could do with his own time anyway. The library then, he still had some time left before he'd find others or go to sleep, couldn't hurt to go there, or hell, even just meander the halls.

---

No sooner had Chess ventured off back into the academy, Mason's brain began whirring and he itched to translate his rapid thought process into something more permanent. Scrambling through the large pouch of his dungarees, he quickly found a pencil. It was relatively blunt, most of the lead breaking off within the pocket, but it would do.

He flipped over the paper with Chess' contact details on it, and began scrawling over the blank side. A little sketch here, Mason's barely-legible handwriting there... It almost certainly wouldn't make sense to anyone else who saw it, but to Mason it was clear as crystal. He absent-mindedly lit another cigarette and placed it between his lips as he sat on the steps outside the academy, completely engrossed in whatever it was he was scribbling.

---

The library.

Over by one of the lounging areas, one of the nearby wall sockets began to emit blue sparks as a student was about to plug her phone in. She and a few others stepped back as the sparks grew brighter and more rapid, culminating in the socket giving way to Zach in his specter form emerging from within. A few of the students looked genuinely alarmed, others less so. Honestly, in this school full of mutants, you shouldn’t be surprised by anything.

Zach floated above the carpet floor. If he’d touched his feet to it, he’d start a fire. He looked around at the surrounding students and waved a hand, saying, “H̸o͏w̡d́y̛.”

In this form, he didn’t have his usual lack of lips to impede his speech. But he also gained a sort of ghastly scratching and reverberation to his words. He thought it was pretty cool.

“Don͟'́t m͟i͡nd̡ ͠m͝e.” He said, seemingly walking along the air past them, “I'́m ju͞s͡t go͏nna.̷.. ́ta̢k̀è a ͘s͟tr̶oll.” He pretended to shove his hands in his non-existent pockets and went on his way, humming in a hushed manner. God, humming and whistling felt weird. Kinda… tingly, if that’s the right word.

Just a bioelectric phantom casually strolling mid-air in the library. Nothing weird about that, unless folks just outright pointed it out. Besides, no one would even know who he really was. His real body was out of the picture for the while.

Time to have some fun.

Collab with DrugMother

Gene's pythons were wrapped closely around her neck as she fiddled with her long pointed nails. The peanut gallery was certainly larger than she had ever expierenced. Though, their stares were just as insignifcant as those of her servants. The assembly hall was suitingly packed with children of varied ages, ethnicities and mutations. She held a very casual air of authority to her posture as she glared at the individual whom was heading the event with an incredulous eye. He seemed to tepid to be the supposedly prominent figure, Alan Portwood. The suit he wore was certainly of an agreeable quality, his body type certainly suggested that he was well fed. It was presumably his warmth that his voice and feature's exuded onto the audience. She felt almost instantly repelled by the forgien characteristic. It was overbearing to listen to, it crept up her spine with an acrid, almost perverted quality to the sensation it envoked.

When the hall errupted in cheers, she rigidly shot upwards, glaring in disgust at the volume of the auidence; her pythons hissing aggressively at the people who sat beside her. Some of the students promptly silenced themselves at the audible threats of the albino's serpents that decorated her head.

She rigedly started to count down the second until the fat man's preformance was over. Gene hoped that these events would be as sparce and infrequent as humanly possible. She remained seated until the rest of the student body left the assembly hall. There was not a chance in hell she was going to be uncomfortable crammed between those children as they ran to the door.

"---And well you must be Geneviève Simmone!" A blond woman's voice rung out, overtly cheerfully, inviting her over with a beckoning of her hand. The last couple students were clearing out after recieving whatever information this woman was doling out. "You are going to be rooming with Cordelia Lynn Holmes in room 222! "

"Rooming? Do you mean I have a foster....mate?" Gene asked dubiously.

"No, silly! Like A roommate!" She replied, handing her a form. Gene was not wearing her glasses, so the form written in a second language was of no current use to her.

"Excuse me. This concept is not exactly, one I am well acquainted with." "---You are telling me. I have a partner to my room....like I have to use this room...in a partnership...." Her voice was incredibly skeptical, her face contorted into a full grimace as she symbolicly slide the sheet back.

"Of course you silly...snake! oh, hahah silly snake, I kill me..." The woman giggled to herself, Gene glared at the woman in disbelief at the horrible nature of both that joke and the situation.

"..." Gene was not bemused by this interaction at all, she promptly side eyed the woman before dismissively turning away.

-------------

After Gene had created a large enough scene to have a custodian deliver her bags to her room she promptly followed the disgruntled worker to her dorm. It was mainly a ploy to figure out where she was suppose to be staying, but partly because there was no realistic way that Gene would ever carry her own items.

"Here we are." A gruff voice grumbled under a scruffed beard as the individual began to shovel her many bags into the room where an unordered servant was standing.

"Are you my foster child?" She asked, turned off by the idea she was sponsoring some poor to do child.

"----Where do you sleep?"

--------------------

There wasn't an overt sign of Lynn's fury, but it was good she was facing away from Snakes when Gene walked in. There was a flicker of homicidal intent followed by the slightest twitch of her right index finger, the subtle way her body temperature spiked a few degrees. Roomies, cellmates, same deal. She'd done this dance before. This was...less than ideal. Borderline cruel. Lynn waited to reply for a moment, scanning the room. She'd done a once-over, checking for cameras or anything-if there were any, they were hidden too expertly for Lynn to find them-but this almost seemed like a practical joke, some cruel, unethical psychological experiment. Lock the least compatible lab rats in a cage.

"I hope I'm not your foster child," Lynn sighed, turning around. Her hair had shifted since Gene had last seen her-the normal brown was a soft red, and it seemed to shimmer just a bit in the fluorescent light. Her eyes were a similar hue, although much less pronounced-gentler, like the glow of a campfire. "I've filled out that paperwork before, it's long as shit.Don't think my stuff'll take up that much space," Lynn realized this would probably come off as a jab to Snakes-to an extent, it was, but she had to remind herself adversity wasn't getting her anywhere. Smiling faces. Happy thoughts. Not being sent back to juvy. Rinse, wash, repeat. Lynn paused, realizing there'd be a little standoff if nobody decided on anything. "I'll take bottom bunk and that area," she said, pointing towards the dressers and desk-ugh, a desk, were they actually gonna have, like, homework and shit-to the right. "Unless you want those, in which case, we can flip a coin for it or something." She paused. Offering it up would be...a bitch move. Not bitch in the sense of gossippy and manipulative, but bitch in the sense of...lesser. Beta. Lynn had old habits burned in hard-having to run with some of Chicago's less savory types was an unforgiving experience, and doing it as a 5'2 Caucasian girl even moreso. She'd learned being assertive as a second nature. Scowling and telling people to fuck off was a means of pre-emptively putting your foot down.

But Snakes hadn't, Lynn was willing to bet, ever dealt in that kind of world. "Or if you, like, really want it, that's cool too. I don't care one way or another." Lynn pulled her sweatshirt up over her neck, pulling up her tanktop underneath for a moment. Her clothes weren't going to be featured in Vogue anytime soon-the trusty old sweatshirt got slung over a shoulder as she pulled her tanktop back down. For a moment, however, the bottom of her stomach was exposed, with the silhouette of her ribcage pressing against the flesh, a handful of old scars and the base of the tattooes peeking out. Her other markings ran down her arms, and Lynn pulled her hair back into a bun absentmindedly, her hair and eyes slowly and smoothly flowing back to brown. "No big deal, you know. Just, uh, whatever." She paused, feeling like she was missing something. "Oh, yeah, I'm Lynn. Happy...being roommates, I guess." She extended a hand to Snakes, her palm likely unnaturally warm.

Well, they wouldn't have to argue over the thermostat, at least.

Gene quickly noticed the mild raise in temperature as she slowly fanned her face. If her roommate was too firey then she might sweat. That would be absolutely awful, especially in these clothes. Sweatstains are attrocious to remove from versace satin. She noticed a small change in color in Lynn's hair that seem to correlate with the temperature change. Gene looked the small girl up and down with scrutnizing eyes, evaluating the tiny girl with her yellow eyes. The pythons curled affectionately around Gene's arms, their scales embracing her soft ivory skin. The nonchalance of her posture was one that insinuated she felt no need to be intimidated by the human-lighter.

"Are you talking about that paper that woman tried to hand me?" Gene asked with a casual tone of disinterest, leaning herself up against the window that guided steady streams of sunlight upon her shoulders. She shuffled through her purse she pulled out a compact. She paused at meet eyes with her roommate, briefly trading glances with the bunk bed's that perplexed the gorgon. "Take what you want. I'll just wait until my bed arrives." She mumbled, applying a thick coat of matte lipsticks to her lucious lips.

"What is your view on...cocaine?" she asked bluntly, putting her makeup away as she leaned farther into the wall, eyes staring coldly at Lynn as she awaited her answer.

In spite of herself, Lynn grinned-shoulda guessed. "Depends on who's asking," Lynn replied somewhat cautiously. She was no stranger to the underworld-she'd ran coke a few times, narrowly avoided getting busted a few others. One of Lynn's scars itched at the mention of the word, bringing back the thought of cold barbed wire, howling dogs...she blinked it away and focused on the issue at hand. She'd never messed around much with it herself-drugs didn't seem to do a whole lot for Lynn, save alcohol. She figured it was her mutation, and she was partly correct-the girl's heightened internal temperature denaturalized a great many chemicals, good and bad. Metabolically and literally, she burned through stuff far too quickly for it to have much of an effect.

However, she knew this sort of game. There was a chance Snakes was asking because she planned on bursting every blood vessel in her nose tonight. And there was a chance Snakes was asking because she, perhaps correctly, assumed Lynn knew some people. But there was also a chance Snakes didn't want to share a room with her, and Snakes figured she could pin her with something on day one.

Lynn had made her fair share of mistakes, ranging greatly in stupidity and severity. Getting burned on drug charges on day one wasn't her style. Just how hard she was going to try and stay in this place, Lynn hadn't decided on yet. Felt like a cage. Lynn didn't like cages. But the alternative might've been a hell of a lot worse. Lynn was very rarely blessed with numerous choices-she didn't enjoy throwing what few she had aside.

More to the point, Lynn figured that was tacit approval for claiming wherever she wanted. Lynn hurled her duffel bag against her corner, figuring she'd unpack it...well, maybe never. There was something final about unpacking. She hadn't unpacked her backpack, well and truly emptied it, in a good many years. Never knew when you'd have to leave in a hurry. Besides, she figured they'd be looking for excuses to kick her out. Whether Lynn's paranoia was justified (or, perhaps more accurately, whether the "undue" attention she received was her fault), she never figured she'd last a week. Maybe these other assholes thought about the future. Here and now was more Lynn's style-future was intangible. Future was for rich, snake-haired chicks who had money to waste on lipstick. Couldn't be disappointed by the lack of said future if you didn't unpack your bag. Lynn's ethos was strange, but morbidly efficient.

She sat down on her bed for a moment, testing it. Damn. This...Lynn adamantly maintained that she took shit from no one, followed nobody's orders, and could not and would not be bought out, but...this was nice. A room. Even if she had to share. A bed. With pillows. Christ above. "Yeah. Any other ground rules we need to cover or something? Haven't had a roommate in..." She paused, considering that, perhaps, the real answer would not get her off on the right foot with Snakes.She didn't need her new roommate accusing her of stealing all her stuff. That would be completely unfounded. After all, there was no one to fence it to here, there'd be no point in stealing it. "....a while. I don't really care what all you do as long as I can crash in here whenever." She went for a cigarette and stopped. "Shit, can we smoke in here?"

-----s
s

Gene's face twisted in unpleasant confusion at her roommate's reply. She figured the girl could not be as stupid as to honestly asked that, but could not risk the chance of the scruffy looking teenager being this stupid. "I am...." Gene retorted with a acrid bitterness, stroking the chin scales of one of her pythons as they moved liesurely around her. "--Well, omitting legality, I can keep your morality ...on a 'all inclusive....auhmm....vacation'." Gene carefully phrased, her thick accent purposely feathering out her bribe. Gene was not expecting her offer to be turned down. Living as an isolate heiress, not many of her requests were turned down; and if they were, the promise of cash always changed their answer. Money had been the lubricant to her life so far, the underground drug trade she had ran through her father's house, the secret outside outtings with more risky servants and the ultimate pancea to all the issues she had come across.

She was aware that some facilities had repercussion if an individual on their campus is found to be in possession of drugs. She was also aware that large, anonymous donations often found a way of erasing evidence too. Gene did not fear discipline or repercussions because there was nothing that could be done to really affect her. Even corpral punishments were of null effect to Gene, who exhibited a spiteful contempt for her own life.

"--Ah, I'll pay you to covet the herion too.."Gene nonchalantly added, watching her roommate twiddled around the room like an animal in a cage with the malevonlent eyes of its' predator.

"I don't see why those are required. We remain civil and knock twice to clairify it is one of us who is going to enter the room...."

"I do not smell any cigarette smoke, and have not since entering this building. They probably make us smoke outside like the gardners..." Gene sighed heavily, gesturing at a fellow whom stood smoking outside of their window.

---

Like the gardners. Lynn's lip curled up a bit as her suspicions about Snakes' wealth and, just like all people with wealth, arrogance were confirmed. Yup. This was going to be a long ass year. And she was pretty up front about these illegal requests-shying right away from designer drugs. She'd pinned Snake for the type to take Mommy's happy pills, maybe take Adderall when she just couldn't possibly hope to finish her AP Homework in time. No, she'd gone for the real hitters. Lynn surveyed Snakes for a minute. It may have been the, well, snakes, but she had trouble gauging whether or not the girl was bullshitting here. Lynn typically had a pretty good filter for what was true and what was not-and, barring that, she tended to err on the side of everyone trying to screw her over.

It wasn't a happy way to live, but Lynn was still kicking, which was more than could be said of a decent number of her friends. Vaguely, Lynn wondered if they had access to TVs, if she could get a Chicago news channel on tomorrow. Check and see if she recognized any of the names scrolling across the bottom.

"Yeah, probably need to smoke outside," Lynn said, sliding the cigarettes back into her pocket. She grabbed her sweatshirt, engulfing her unhealthily thin frame underneath baggy cloth once more. She squirmed around in it a bit, reassured by the way it felt. The thing was old and faded to hell but damn if she didn't love it. That hoodie had seen some shit. She rolled up the sleeves, baring her tattooed forearms once again, and rolled her shoulders a bit. "I don't know what tihs all-inclusive vacation shit is, but I'll level with you. I'm hungry and not in the mood to beat around the bush. I can get my hands dirty. Not afraid of that. But something tells me if you and me both get pinned with something, your ass is gonna be able to afford a lot more lawyers than mine." She paused. "No offense. If you're throwing that high a risk my way there'd have to be one hell of a high reward, especially considering I'm up to my ass in risk as it is. Plus," she said, "I'm of the belief it never hurts to act like somebody's listening." she glanced at the walls, the window. "In a place like this, I figure it's pretty much a given. If they don't have cameras watching us, there's some superpowered sixth grader trying to mind-read the chicks in the floor above him. I'm not looking to get in anything deep. Not the first day." She paused, her voice feeling oddly tired. This...may have been the longest conversation she'd had in a little while. Last week or so had been a lot of paperwork for the Institute and the Man alike. She had a pretty neutral level of disdain for Snakes-anyone with a steady income garnered that from Lynn, and anyone who didn't have to worry about steady income especially so-but if there was money to be made down the line, who knew. Running drugs was something she'd done before-but the streets of Chicago and the Institute were two very, very different places. Lynn didn't trust people as a rule of thumb-so saying she would wait until she could trust Snakes would be fundamentally flawed-but until she could rely on her, well, that'd be a while. There was still one hell of a chance that Snakes was just stringing her along, and Lynn had played the puppet one too many times before.

Plus, well...Lynn's fingers danced at her sides, itching with anxiety.

There was a real chance of really fucking this up. She wasn't delusional-not in the conventional sense. Part of her had always assumed she could scrape by, she could roll with the punches. But Lynn was just getting older, and in a few months, she'd reach the milestone of eighteen years. This meant draft cards and registering to vote for most. In the circles she ran in, it usually meant you'd been in the ground for a while. She fucked up here, and her life expectancy lost a few decades. Wasn't much way to sugar coat it.

Going straight, well, that was....that was a lot. But going straighter. Maybe that wasn't so bad. Probation, damnit. Don't fuck this up Lynn. You have a bed. And food. There is a rich bitch trying to ruin this for you but you won't letter because you don't get played because you are motherfucking Cordelia Lynn Holmes. And, hey, there were kids here. Lynn liked kids. Getting a ring set up here might've pulled some major cash for her (probably pocket change for the Gucci-clad Medusa), but there were some real ugly risks strung up with that. "I'm headed to the cafeteria. Something about a feast? I'm starving, those fucks kept us waiting for that bus forever. So, yeah, catch you later."

Lynn grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulders, the familiar weight tugging at her shoulders. She was pretty good at finding her way around-Lynn spent a lot of time walking, wandering, and had developed a number of skills as second nature. Keeping track of where she was, that was a big one. No use getting lost in a shitty neighborhood. Always have a way out, that was a good rule to go by-and there was no way to go by that rule if you had no idea where you were. She found her way to the cafeteria relatively quickly-everyone and their dumbass brother was headed there, so it wasn't tricky to find.

And find it she did. Four years of wandering in the desert and she had been brought to the land of milk and honey. She....didn't have to pay for this shit. It was just included or whatever. Lynn stopped cold for a moment, just staring and taking it all in. Her face scrunched as she took in a comically deep breath through her nose, her scar wriggling as she just looked at the hustle and bustle, the sheer number of silver platters full of...food. Lynn did not cry. This was a rule, akin to the rule that things that go up must come down and the rule that any movie cop about to retire must die. She did not.

But if she were the type to cry, there would've been tears.

She walked forward hurriedly, forgetting her (admittedly unorthodox) brand of self-discipline in the light of all the splendors the cafeteria had to offer. There was just so much. Lynn didn't give a shit what it was, she piled her plate high with everything. She walked entirely down one of the buffets, forking meals onto her tray that made more than a few of the grown men in line stop and do a double-take. The normal woes of finding a spot to sit, having someone to sit with-she didn't give a shit. Hot meals were a luxury. Christ. This was...this was...

Going straighter was not that bad. It was even doable.

Lynn scanned the cafeteria quickly, her shrunken stomach unable to wait much longer. The others. They just ate idly, a few even glancing at their servings with disgust or irritation. How? How? Lynn walked quickly, her tray actually beginning to strain her arms a bit, as she found the silverware, haphazardly throwing utensils on. She grabbed a drink, didn't really give a shit what, and moved to the closest table. She slammed her tray down, looking at it with her mouthwatering and her eyes almost matching.

This....Christ. Sweet merciful Christ. This everyday? As often as she wanted? She could just...go and get more?

Lynn took a brief moment to say grace, which was something she had not done in many, many years-she and the Lord were not on the best of terms, but this seemed a just occasion to do so-and gave the table around her a quick lookover. She cursed her lack of situational awareness-she was normally good about staying alert, and she had entirely missed the dumbass who was standing on top of the table, asking about everyone's power. And there was...Cain? Kane? Ken? He'd been on the bus, Lynn remembered his face. She almost said something snappy to the table kid ("Mayo like the shark"? Huh? Lynn figured she misheard something) perhaps to question if he got his table-dancing tendencies from his mother, but remembered that time spent talking was time not spent eating.

With zero regard for etiquette, asking how everyone's days were, or the usual small talk, Lynn began devouring what was on her table, the tiny girl putting away almost as much as the rest of the table combined.

Mason Crawford ft. Genevieve Simmone
Gene stripped herself of her jacket, revealing a buxom chest fitted with a moschino ready-to-wear sweater she had purchased a couple weeks ago. The sight of the sweater made her wonder as to how she would continue to shop online if this school was suppose to be a secret. She pushed the thought aside, 'where there is a will, there is a way... she thought cryptically, pulling a golden cigarette case out of her purse and stuffing it as far into the designer jeans as they would fit.

She walked through the halls with the same rigid elegance she would exihibit in her home at Monaco. Gene's ego was affectionately stroked by the oncoming seige of stares the student body emitted in regards to her presence. Gene was aware that many would view her pythons as an unnattractive quality, but she was even more aware of the fact her body would often over shadow their presence. Though, the fear that her python's envoked often gave her more of a rush than those of admiration.

She reached the exterior of the school only to meet eyes with the smoker from before. She pulled out a smoke and silently motioned for a lighter.

"Mason, right?"

Mason looked up from his scribbles, seeing the tall, snake-haired supermodel from earlier. She'd remembered his name, too; he felt oddly visible at this school. Nobody ever remembered his name, and in some ways it was a step out of his comfort zone, but he'd be lying if he said not even a little bit of him enjoyed it. He noticed the cigarette hanging from her plump lips, and her gesture suggested she needed a light. Mason obliged, handing her his cheap Zippo lighter.

"Yeah," he said, quite enamoured by the fierceness of the woman. "That's me." He tried desperately to remember her name, but for the life of him he couldn't. He didn't imagine she would take this kindly... Had she even shared her name earlier on? He was great with names, he figured if she'd revealed it, he'd remember.

"I'm sorry, I uh... I don't think I caught your name earlier." he said apologetically.

She glanced as he handed her his lighter. She flipped open steel lid to be greeted with the familiar scent of butane. Her python's gravitated to the smell, a smell that brought on nostaliga of her home and of the country that was so repulsed with her existance. For most these thoughts would bring a somber saddness, but to Gene it recreated the sobering, addictive taste of the bitterness of reality.

Gene allowed the flame to dance for a few seconds longer than needed before she extinguished it with a promptness. Fierce yellow eyes grabbed hold of the young man's stare as she returned his device. All while maintaining the light smoke at the corner of her bare lips.

Her lips curved to a smile as she recognized the familiar tone of a premptive apology. Pulling the smoke from between her lips, she slowly exhaled a plume of grey smoke, then lowered her hand to display her full face. The pythons all followed the motion of the smoke, twisting and turning to her right side.

"---Mon joli garcon, calm yourself...It's Genevieve." She added a decorative stress on the 's' at her own bizzare bemusement. "--So, where do you come from?" she asked, taking another drag from her smoke.

"--And seemingly more importantly, why did you come?"

Mason was almost entranced by the way Genevieve spoke. Her words were fluid and seductive, flowing from her mouth like honey. Not only that, but did she just call him her pretty boy? She was hypnotising. So much so, in fact, that when she fired a question at him he almost didn't register it. It took him a moment to reply.

"Well, I came here from Berlin," he said finally, pausing a moment. "I've lived there for almost three years. But originally, I'm from England. Dad's German." he said, keeping the information about his lineage brief and blunt. He didn't like to dwell on it, and he figured the less attention he paid it, the less others would, too.

The second question was less expected, but he answered it nonetheless. "Uh, I guess I'm here for the same reason you are." he said, nodding at the impressive serpents that sprouted from the woman's scalp and smiling. "What about you?" he asked, a tone of interest in his voice. "Your accent is just... Magique." he said, emphasising the last word.

She listened intently to his words, his accent was interesting to her ear, every 'i' and 'a' entraced the attention of her snakes. Having lived in the sheltered world she did, she had never heard an English accent in person. Western accents did not interested her, TV and movies had run their novelty into the ground. Mason however still had a charm to it.

When the young man mentioned Berlin it wrung a bell in her head. "--Ah Berlin is close to the Ukraine, no?" She questioned, envisioning a foggy map of Russia and the rest of europe as she asked the question.

The lad seemed quite secretive, resistant to share more information with her. It was not in an aggressive or antisocial fashion, or so she assumed. His last response was not at all what she had expected. She was hoping he would reveal his mutation, not some vague inversion of the question she had originally posed. She ignored his comment on her accent because to Gene, it did not exist. Everyone else had an accent.

"No, you cheeky boy. What got you in?" She repeated, playfully narrowing her eyes at the fellow. He reminded her of a servant she had once had named Nando. Nando had been a mischivious imp of a servant, constantly answering in riddles and hiding bizzare objects throughout her wing of the home. Cheeky, Cheeky Nando...

"--I am here because I can not go outside in Monaco without screams of horror or an attempted assassination. Simple."

Mason's eyes widened at the girl's confession. "That... That really fucking sucks, Genevieve." he said, taking a moment to consider what it might be like living with a physical mutation like hers. "I'm sorry you have to put up with shit like that." He'd never seen someone with a mutation that manifested externally before, and now in the space of a day he'd seen Genevieve and Zach. It made him realise how lucky he was to be able to hide his power... And he did a pretty good job at it, too.

"I'm not here because I was threatened or anything like that," admitted Mason. "Nor was I a threat, really. It just became a pain in the arse to not be able to control shit, you know?" he said, instantly realising that, considering the woman had a head of snakes, Genevieve probably knew.

"Yeah," he said, looking away from the girl and out over the grounds. "You know. I know you know."

"Not really. Monaco is hot and poor." Gene calmly brushed away his sympathetic remarks towards her story. She had lived a privledged life, despite being isolated in a luxurious 'prison' due to her father and nations intolerance. If she really wanted, she could have worn a burqa out but headscarves only came into fashion a couple months ago...

"Call me Gene. Genevieve is too much of...of a mouth full."

"I had to put up with nothing I did not want. If I did, I did not care. Small minded people are as perpetual as sunrise and sunset." She was perplexed by the sentiment of sorrow that his tone carried. Prehaps if she had come from a more impoverished family she could empathize better with this emotion. Though, she did not and could not. Money was incredibly persuasive, if not that then controlling.

The rest of Mason's words certainly resonated on some level with the medusa. "--I would rather manipulate than control; To manipulate you have an understanding. To control you simply need force." She mumbled, taking another swift drag of her cigarette. She glanced down at his sketch book, her poor vision blurring whatever image he was sketching.

Aesthetic was everything to her, the fine arts were something she held close. Whether it was for it's expressive purpose or its decorative.

"What is it that you draw?" Gene mumbled, changing the conversation.

Mason glanced down at the single torn page, crammed full of his notes and doodles. "It's nothing specific, really," he said. It sounded like an attempt at modesty, but it was the truth. There were so many ideas manifested upon the paper that it would have been difficult to properly articulate. "Just ideas, you know?" he said, feeling a little sheepish. "They tend to all come at once, and I just kinda have to purge them out somewhere so I don't forget them."

"I guess it's a more...health responsible purging...." She murmured, moving closer to the journal to take in the mosaic of designs that lay across the egg-shell pages. She was close enough to Mason that the breathing of her pythons caused his hair to dance ever-so-lightly. Gene was interested in the chaotic designs that painted the page. Her own hobbie was one of percision and accuracy but she could empathize with the expressive aspect of the outlet. She took a long drag of her smoke; admiring the images. "I like it. Grungy."

The hairs on Mason's neck stood to attention as the woman leaned close to him, he could feel each individual breath of the snakes upon his skin. "Uh, thanks," he said, assuming she was just being polite. He wasn't really interested in complements on ideas alone; once he'd turned the good ones into art, then he'd take notice.

Gene abruptly stood up, nonchalantly painting the top of one of her python's head; "--It's been nice meeting you. Hope to engage with you later." She nodded, turning her attention to cooing her pets as she leisurely walked away; still puffing lighty on the half finished cigarette.

Mason watched as the girl rose and gracefully departed. It had all happened a bit suddenly... He hoped he hadn't offended her. Though, something about the woman told Mason she wasn't easily offended. He stood up and headed back inside the academy, tucking his sheet of scribbles into his pocket as he made his way towards the dormitories.

The room was wonderful to say the least. Unlike her room back home, the dorm was spacious and colorful. Rich, wooded floors replaced her memory of shaggy carpets, and sunny wall stood out among her memory beside chipped, white panels. The small house on the bayou was now a thing of the past, here, P.K stood and drank in the warm air, feeling her skin literally glow with excitement. Her roommate had yet to appear, sadly, but perhaps that gave Phoebe a chance to claim the favorable bed. She quickly settled on the one against the wall, allowing her hat and carry on to drop to the floor dramatically before laying back with an audible sigh of relief.

Phoebe let her mind wander, body simply relaxing as she was allowed some time to recuperate after the long journey Images of swirling lights and moonless nights appeared in her head. Thick greenery, smelling of swamp flowers and summer wind. Home. Was she already feeling home sick? Sure, she knew it would come on eventually but right as she settled in? A smile formed at her own weak-will, but her eyes remained shut and her body remained dormant as the fireflies continued to swirl through her head. Memories of warm smiles and brown skin and thick accents faded, no need for them right now. Phoebe knew not to dwindle on the past, as her future was finally in her grasp. No, she had to look forward to classes, and new friends, and new enemies. Of no more lonely lunch times and acceptance.

and of control

The thought made her open her eyes, and without much resistance her arm rose, reaching for the light fixture above the bed. The bulb, gleaming white-yellow for a moment, flickered as light was forcefully drawn away from the core. It streamed towards her finger tips like dust, feeling warm against her skin, and as she swirled the light around it began to shift. Sharpen and bend without her will. She attempted to control it, clenched her fist to give it physical form and stop it from twisting out of control, but instead it swirled into a mess of colors and sharp edges, and then it vanished with a flash. P.K shut her eyes tightly, after images dotting her eyelids for a mere moment, and then she sat up with a sigh, blonde curls surrounding her pouting face in a messy manner.

And again, she tried. She straightened her position and held her hands up at the fixture, letting the light flicker and then trail down to her finger tips. Warmth filled her, and with a face of pure concentration she let the glow form spirals in the air before her. Gently, gently. She bent the light and it vanished for a moment, then reappeared, and she did the same over the blaring light bulb above and the room was swallowed by shadows for a moment before her hands clenched and the energy once again flashed into oblivion. Frustration set in, then confusion, then a wish to get up and out.

i cant breath

Whatever she had done wrong was definitely taking its toll, and with a distant look in her eye she rose from the bed, grabbing only her room key and her sunhat before exiting the dorm. P.K felt her messy curls bounce with each quick step she took, but she was much too focused on her burning hand to care. It felt like she had shoved it into a fire, yet there were no sign of burns or red flesh. No, just uncomfortable warmth, and it had begun to travel up her arm, towards her torso to her brain... The sensation made her feel some what queasy, like her chest was full of cotton and her head was buzzing was electricity. She rushed forward, chest slowly beginning to heave as she felt her body beg for fresh air, and she pushed passed people with only small murmurs of 'sorry' to apologize for her rude rushing. And then she was barreling right into a slightly taller, white male.

"Je-sus!" She unknowingly cried out, falling onto her backside. P.K sucked in a deep breath, heaving out a forced sigh, and this continued until she was able to realize the situation and what exactly happened. Her golden eyes turned up to the boy, eyebrows quickly upturning into an apologetic stare,

"O God, I'm so sorry!" She rose with slight difficulty, clutching her burning hand behind her back as she met the boy's eyes, "didn't hurt ya, did I?"

---

As Mason made his way to the dorms, his attention became lost amongst the grand architecture of the reception. It really was a sight to behold; he hoped that most of the school shared this timeless style, as he preferred it over the more modern furnishings of his dormitory. His trail of thought was interrupted, however, when he was hit by a considerable force.

He was knocked back a few paces, but was much better off than the girl who'd ran into him. She sat on the floor looking bewildered, but Mason also noticed she was looking a little pasty. Perhaps it was just a side-effect of her ability, but to Mason she looked like she was either ill, panicked or both. He felt at least partially responsible; had he not had his head in the clouds, he might have spotted her coming, and so he extended a hand and offered to help the girl to her feet. She ignored it, clutching the hand tightly behind her back and standing up by herself.

She apologised profusely and asked if she'd hurt him. "Not at all," he smiled reassuring. "I wasn't looking where I was going." he said, trying to take away some of the embarrassment the girl must be feeling. "Are you OK?" he asked, empathetically. "You look a little... Washed out." he said, not sure whether he would offend her. She looked familiar to him, and Mason reasoned that she must have been at the bus stop earlier, too; but he didn't remember hearing anything from her. Probably one of the quieter ones.

"I think I saw you at the bus stop earlier," he said. "I don't think I caught your name. I'm Mason." he added, extending out a hand for her to shake.

The kid with the cool voice seemed to automatically notice her dilemma. That sucked, not a great first impression to make, but it would be best not to draw anymore attention to it. Phoebe nodded slowly as he reassured her that he was fine, still feeling pretty terrible about the whole encounter, but then again she was feeling terrible about everything at the moment. Yet, it would be rude to just rush off without closing a conversation, and she let her jaw set into a confident expression as the boy extended his hand in greeting. She rose her own not-burning hand, allowing the other to simply hang and twitch at her side, and with it hidden within the folds of her dress she managed to force a realistic, reassuring smile,

"I'm A-OK, just a bit flustered is all." P.K's voice was calm, collected, and her hand shake was firm. Despite her stony complexion, she did a pretty good job at acting fine, and that was good enough for now. She let her hand drop again as the boy with the sick accent introduced himself (mason? like the jar?) and then tilted his head, inquiring her own name. She lifted the sunhat from her eyes, allowing her bright gaze to gleam with some sense of familiarity as she realized who this Mason guy was. One of the smokers from the bus stop, of course!

"Oh yes, I'm real sorry I didn't introduce myself to the group earlier." P.K let her head lower sheepishly for a moment, and then she smirked slightly, propping up her sunhat again with her good-hand's thumb, "name's Phoebe. Phoebe Kate, but everyone calls me P.K. Nice to meet ya, Mason." Her own accent shined bright for a second, her voice dripping with a familiar Southern drawl that would probably be unusual for someone who definitely sounded like they came from an episode of Doctor Who, and after looking somewhat surprised at her own stupid self she took a step back, clenching her now red-hot hand tightly around the hem of her dress.

"Again, real sorry for bumping into you. This whole new, uh, environment, school stuff, making me a bit nervous. Distracted." P.K lowered her hat again, allowing the rim cover her eyes and blot out Mason's face from her vision, but her smile reminded, sweet and somewhat twitchy, "it was nice to learn a new name, though. See ya around?" She took a shaking step forward, preparing to rush passed him once the conversation closed off.

---

"͝I̢'͡m̛ ̀ta͟ki͞n̢g̨ ̧requests̡,͡ fơl͘ks̴. Wh͟ǫ ҉wan̨t̀s͜ ͠to̕ see͝ me ̨do̵ ̀wh́a̧t?"

Specter-Zach was floating amidst a group of students amassed in the central area of the library. Some of them looked amused, others looked annoyed. Rest were wholly indifferent. He pretended to stand on a platform in mid-air, keeping a bit of focus on his movement so it wouldn’t look like he was drifting too much. He kind of failed in that regard.

"C'̧m͠on͝, c'̸mo͏n͘, ̛fǫr̴ ̢r͝ea͟l. ҉Gimm̢e'͏ s͘om͡e͜th̛ing."

He was met with silence, shrugs, and chuckles.

"N̵o͢th̕in̸g̛? A͠lŕi̡g͟h̷t,͝ ̷a̛l͟r̷i̷ght͠,̡ ҉f̶i͜n̴e, ̴I̷ ҉kn̨ǫw ̡s̡om͞eth͘in͝g͝.͏ ̶U̸h, ͏who's g̶ot̛ à.͝.̶. ̕yo͜u͘,͞ y͘ou͡.̛" He pointed at one of the students with her phone out and floated a little closer to her. "Go to Yo͢u̸Tu҉b͡e͡,͡ lo̶o҉k̴ ̵u҉p "͠Op͝i͟ou̷ ͟ver͘sus Stu͠ff͟ ̛S̢m͡ith"̵. ͞F̧įr͢st r̢esųlt͡."̨ The student, thankfully, complied with a smile. She looked up the video, set her volume to max, set her phone down on the central table, and played the video.

The intro started out, and Zach was mostly still, only making slight movements. Twelve seconds in, he began moving his limbs in the most fluidic manner he could muster. The whole bioelectric-specter thing helped make him look like he wasn’t completely screwing up what looked like planned choreography. And all the while, he was maintaining a near perfect position on his mental platform.

And the students gathered around were actually enjoying it.

It ain’t right to do what you’re doin’
It ain’t right so don’t be a-stoopin’
It ain’t right so baby it’s nothin’
Momma, I’m, talkin’

It ain’t love that you handed out to me
It ain’t love now don’t start to shout to me
It ain’t love so baby it’s farewell
Oh, goodbye

Collab between TheWizardLizard and Shard


Bringing him out of his thoughts, Casper turned towards the voice, his mind startled from the sudden outburst. "S-sorry...I didn't...I didn't know I knocked so loud..." There he probably went again. This time he didn't even notice, but at the very least he hadn't broken anything...not yet. "I'm still...getting used to it..." Casper sighed slightly as his eyes dropped down to the floor again. "M-my powers..." He looked up for but a second to meet the other boy's face and was immidiatly hit by a wave of nausea. He quickly brought his hand up to his chest and looked away. 'What was that!? Did he use something on me...? Am I just losing my mind? Damn, I'm falling apart...' Swallowing his insecurities, Casper spoke once more. "S-sorry to...to have bothered you..."

Greg recoiled, bringing his hands up over his eyes. His glasses. His glasses were in the room. where he'd left them. He leaned back against the wall, still covering his face and staring down at the ground. "No, no, not the knocking. You're loud... loud in here..." Greg pressed his hands against his temples to demonstrate. "Like screaming. You... you hurt... he was a very... he deserved... you did well. You don't need to be screaming, in here, where I can hear you."

"You can...hear me...?" What did he mean by that? Well, it was obvious, wasn't it? Just like Casper, Greg was a mutant and from the sound of it, he could understand or rather...'sense' emotions? Thoughts? Casper didn't quite understand it, he had never met anyone with a similar power before. "H-how...how can I just...?" The boy brought his hand up to his forehead and clenched his teeth. He couldn't just turn his worry off, he couldn't just turn the anxiety off. Leaning against the wall, Casper slid to the floor and hid his face in his hands. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to...to be so..." He spoke lower now. "...loud."

"No, no, it's not your fault. Everyone's... loud, sometimes, that's just how it's supposed to be. It's me. I'm not supposed to hear it, but I do." Greg slid to the floor opposite the boy, practically mirroring him in how he shielded his face. He was silent for a moment, and then he spoke. "You know, Casper, it's not really... it's none of my... it isn't by place to say, but, from what I've seen of you... if someone had to have your, um..." The word 'curse' formed on his lips, but he choked it back. "Thing, I think it's a good thing that it was you. And not somebody else."

Despite a serious lack of self confidence, Casper did understand what Greg was saying. It was better that Casper got his power, rather than the guy in the cafeteria or anyone else like him. That was true...even Casper could admit that, but now that he was seeing Greg...he was starting to see things from a...different point of view. "You...you can't control your...'thing'...either?" Greg's powers seemed to be a lot less forgiving towards himself and it made Casper almost feel lucky not to be in his shoes. There was always someone who had it worse, wasn't there? "Th-thank you...though. It was...Greg, right?"

"Yeah. Greg. And no, I can't control it. None of it. Not just the mind-reading, either, I can't stop my brain from attacking people. Like it just... hates them, or maybe they hate it. Apparently, this sort of thing is... rare, even among psychics, which aren't exactly common. That's a good thing, I think. Shouldn't be any more of me running around." Greg rolled his shoulder slightly and felt it twinge. It wasn't injured, not anymore, but sometimes it still gave him reminders of his bad day. Good. He shouldn't forget. "Are you religious, Casper?"

"I..." Casper revealed his face again from behind his hands, rubbing his eyes softly before he moved some hair from covering his sight. He didn't look up at Greg again, but rather kept his eyes on the other boy's legs. "I don't...really see why anyone would...hate you." He shook his head. "You...you seem like a really good person..." For never being able to control his powers, Greg had maintained a stable enough position. A weaker person would have started hating everything and everyone by this point...being able to hear everyone's thoughts. "Y-you're probably...really strong..." Casper raised his eyes slightly, but still not enough to meet Greg's. "Having...to deal with all of that all the time...you're...you're really strong...keeping it together..."

As the conversation shifted towards religion and spirituality, all Casper could do was to shake his head. "No...are you?"

In spite of himself, Greg chuckled a little bit at that. "Casper, your stomach's turning just from being, just because I'm here. That's a... it's a decent reason to hate, people. And you're wrong, you know. I... thank you, but you're wrong. I'm not good. Not yet."

Greg waved the question of religion away. "I am, yeah, sort of. Not, like, a fanatic, but it's sort of, like, it's important to me. I just... nevermind."

The boy rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Well..." Casper began, hugging his knees carefully, not to hurt himself. "I...I don't hate you..." He continued, a soft smile forming along his lips. "I don't really know you but...I...I wouldn't mind...uhm..." He had never really had this conversation with anyone else before, it felt rather odd. The friends he had, they had come up to him and pulled him along. This time he was making 'the first move'. "I wouldn't mind...getting to know you..." Sure, Greg's powers were incredibly potent and made Casper feel more or less nauseous but...he wasn't a bad person, quite the opposite actually. "Besides...if you can't control your powers...it's not your fault that bad stuff happens...that's not reason to dislike you...that would be rather..." He stopped for a second before shaking his head. "That's stupid...you're not to blame for your powers...you're trying to control them...aren't you? Th-that's why you're here..."

Raising his gaze further, Casper saw Greg's hands covering his face and it was still rather uncomfortable to look at him, but with his eyes covered it made it less so.

"Sometimes I wonder if the Devil knows what he's doing, and is just too afraid to put a stop to it." The boy wanted to be his friend. That was unexpected, and doubtless short-lived, but it did recall a certain promise he'd made to a fifteen year old girl who thought the world of him. "Yeah. Okay, Casper. Friends."

Had he come here to learn how to control his powers? Maybe. That'd be nice. It wasn't going to happen, but it'd be nice. Why had he come, then? To hide, probably.

There was another voice in his head, getting louder. He'd heard it before. "He's coming. Your friend, the one who was on the ground earlier."

"Friend...? Oh...uh, Mason..." Casper had made two friends in a day? This had to be a record for him, or...well...it was. "Maybe...maybe we should leave the corridor..." He stood, dusting himself off. "It...it was nice meeting you...Greg. And...thank you." Casper continued, his eyes now on the floor once more.

Greg had to leave. Mason had had a bad day. He didn't need to be around Greg, not now. "Right. I... I should go. Thank you for being... quiet."

Greg rose and shuffled off awkwardly, his stomach growling.

"Y-yeah...bye...Greg..." Casper offered a soft wave before he saw Greg leave. Casper would follow his example and stepped back into his room, sitting down on his bed a second time. His door remained open, but he knew that something good had come of this meeting with Greg...that guy hated himself so much. Well, at least that's the impression Casper got.

Walking back out into the corridor, he thought that it could be a good idea to resume his previous plan..to speak with Mason...

---

Mason bid farewell to PK as she hurried off. She was cerainly acting rather oddly, but how was he to know any different? Perhaps she always acted this way. In his heart, he knew there was something going on there... But she didn't seem like she wanted to share it, and so he simply allowed her to go about her business in private. Mason was a big fan of privacy.

He continued through the reception, trying his best to blend in and avoid any more interaction. He was an inherently social individual, there was no denying it... But he'd be damned if he could handle any more conversation today. It was simply exhausting; he'd almost lost count of how many new names and faces he'd committed to memory. It was a blessing that he was good at remembering them.

He rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and continued down the hall towards the dormitories; the route was already seeming familiar, which Mason interepreted as good sign. He couldn't wait to get into his room; hopefully Zachariah would still be out, and he'd be able to have some time to himself.

Or not, he noted, as he spotted Casper waiting outside his room. He smiled as they made eye-contact. Sure, he was tired. But Casper had saved his ass earlier on in the canteen, and for that Mason was grateful. "How you doing, Casper?" he asked, his chirpiness not betraying his wavering enthusiasm for the day's interactions

"H-hello...Mason." If anything, Casper deserved a pat on the shoulder for the amount of social interaction he had managed today. He wanted to say 'endured' but it wasn't really that bad...well, except for one incident. "I'm...I'm okay." The boy nodded, looking down as he was rather unable to look people in the eyes for longer periods of time. Maybe his meeting with Greg had left him a bit...scarred, too. "H-how...how are you...?" The boy fiddled with his hands. "I...I wanted to..." He breathed. "C-check...check up on you..."

Casper looked visibly shaken. Fuck, what is it with everyone today? Mason asked himself. He smiled when the boy said he'd wanted to check up on him, and chuckled a little. It was an ironic situation, considering that Mason was three years his senior and a good foot taller. "You didn't have to do that," he said earnestly. "But I'm glad to see you and I'm doing good."

He put his dorm key into the lock, twisting it as he spoke. "Y'know, there are just people in this world who are assholes. But it's nothing we can't handle, eh?" he asked, encouraging Casper to loosen up a bit The kid was so... Anxious. He swung the door open gently. "You wanna come in?" he asked.

"S-sure..." Casper nodded as Mason invited him in. If he had come this far, the boy could as well just keep on going. He was doing well, he was communicating and hanging out, in lack of better words. This was going well...wasn't it? "Th-there are..." Casper sighed as her answered Mason's statement. There were indeed assholes in this world and all one could do was deal with it, right?

Stepping into Mason's room, Casper felt a bit out of place but stood in the middle of the room and looked at Mason, waiting for further 'intstructions'.

Mason emptied his pockets onto his bedside table, a packet of cigarettes, his lighter, and a now-crumpled piece of paper that Chess had given to him. He placed it so that his drawings and notes were face-down, with Abbey's number facing up. "The rooms here are pretty sweet, right?" Mason asked, making casual conversation. "I haven't even started unpacking," he said. "I should probably start..."

As he spoke, he unzipped one item of his luggage and withdrew his toiletry bag; toothbrush, deodorant, skincare lotions... That kind of thing. "I'll do it tomorrow," he said, laughing at his procrastination.

"I unpacked in my room..." Casper responded casually, his hands placed together as he watched Mason walking around his room, putting things away. There seemed to be some papers, some cigarettes and so on. Something was written on one of the papers, numbers. Casper wasn't about to read it, but he saw a little when Mason took it up. It was after all none of his business.

"As long as my essentials are where they need to be, I'm good." Mason reasoned, walking over to the bathroom and pulling the handle. He looked at Casper quizzically. "It's locked..."

"Locked...?" Casper tilted his head slightly as he turned towards the bathroom door. "Didn't you uhm...have a roommate?"

"Yeah..." Mason said, confused. "Switch?" he called through the door. "Zach, buddy? Are you in there?" There was no response. Mason shot Casper a puzzled glance, then pressed his ear to the door. He could hear breathing; long, deep breaths. He banged on the door. "Zach? Zach, are you OK?"

He turned to Casper, looking worried. "Dude's in there." he said, banging on the door again. "Zach?" he called one final time. "What should we do?" he asked. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Casper couldn't quite say that he knew how private Zach liked to be in the bathroom...it's rather odd to hear your roommate banging on the door and freaking out. Zach could just be sleeping in the bathtub or whatever. "Uhm..." The boy scratched the back of his head lightly. "Maybe he's...uhm...busy...?" Casper looked down, knowing that he probably sounded stupid. "If it's nothing and...we break down the door...that uhm...that's bad..." Not only will they have damaged school property, but they might see Zach butt-naked in the shower. Neither was something Casper wanted to be part of.

"If he's OK, why isn't he replying?" Mason asked. "We didn't even know he was in there, he hasn't made a sound since we came in." he reasoned with Casper. "I'm not saying we rip the door off... But if we ignore it and there's a problem... Isn't that our fault?" he asked. "Besides, what if..." he dropped his voice to a whisper. "What if it's not him?"

Mason had a point, if Zach was in there, he would probably have replied by now. He didn't seem like the most quiet of people and if he was listening to music in there, the banging on the door would at the very least have caught his attention. "Not...him...?" Why would there be an imposter in Mason's bathroom? This was getting a bit nuts but honestly, it was...'exciting' in a way. "Well...what do you want to do...? Is there a way to open the door without...breaking it...?"

Mason smiled wryly. "Well, yeah," he said, matter-of-factly. "The door is locked from the other side. So, we can just unlock it from inside." he said, purposely trying to confuse Casper. If he had to reveal his power to someone, he was gonna have fun with it. He strode over to the full length mirror by his bed, and turned over his shoulder to face Casper. "Like so..."

Facing the mirror again, he raised both hands before it and breathed deeply. He focussed his mind, and after a few seconds placed his palms flat against the reflective surface. It rippled dramatically, as though Mason was dipping his hands in a pool of water. His hands slipped through the mirror, followed by the rest of his arms and then his body. The last thing Casper would have seen would be Mason's foot vanishing through the glass.

As would have been expected, Mason's words left Casper incredibly confused and unable to understand what it was the older boy was getting at. Of course, at this point Casper knew that almost everything people spoke about or mentioned that he didn't understand had something to do with their powers, this was probably one of those times. It was further proven to have been exactly so when Mason went as far as to literally step through a mirror. "M-Mason...!" Casper took two quick steps forward towards the mirror placed he placed a hand upon its cold, reflective surface. Mason was gone and the only thing Casper was able to see was his own fragile image. "That was..." The boy stepped back, seeing his own confused expression upon the mirror's surface. "...cool..."

Mason hoisted his leg up through the mirror of the bathroom, sending various bottles of cologne and the like tumbling from the shelf below it. "Fuck," he exclaimed, at both his own clumsiness and at the sight of Zach unconscious and fully clothed on the toilet. He pulled the rest of his body through into the bathroom and quickly hurried over to the door, unlocking it so that Casper could enter. "I don't wanna move him..." he said, cautiously. "Should we call for help?"

"H-how did you...?" Casper began as Mason opened the door but the worried expression on his face told Casper that whatever question the smaller boy had would have to wait. Soon after Mason's appearance, Casper could clearely see Zach unconcious on the toilet seat. "Oh..." Casper spoke quietly and approached him slowly. "M-maybe...?" Had something happened? Casper's eyes immediatly traveled to Zach's wrists, but they seemed undamaged, or rather, uncut. He hadn't done anything like that. Had he taken a bunch of meds? Casper quickly checked behind the mirror to see if there was anything in the medicine cabinet and there didn't seem to be anything present. Okay, that was good. There were no bottles anywhere, either. "I...I don't think he tried to...do anything bad..." Casper spoke, moving his eyes across Zach's body. "Should we...place him on the bed?" Either way, placing him on the bed would be better than having him in that uncomfotable position on a toilet seat.

Without waiting for Mason's approval or disapproval, Casper carefully placed one arm under Zach's legs and the other by his back, lifting him up and moved out of the bathroom. The boy would then gently place Zach on a bed and tilted him slightly to the side so that he didn't swallow his tongue. "Okay..." The boy nodded.

To Mason, the fact that the first thing Casper checked for were signs of suicide bothered him. It was too close to home and said a lot about Casper more than it did about Zach. Moving someone who was in some kind of ill state did not seem like a wise move to Mason, but who was he to boss Casper around? Mason knew very little about medical situations.

As it turned out, Casper seemed to know what he was doing. He lay down Zach carefully and did all sorts of checks, moving him into a position where he would be safe. Mason took a pamplet from his welcome package and whipped out his cellphone, hitting in the number for the medical wing.

"Uh, hello?" he asked once his call was answered. "I, uh... I think there's been an accident."

---

Bit of time passed. After Zach was well and satisfied with the impressions he left on the folks in the library, with his not-that-great-but-not-that-poor-either dance maneuvers, he decided to return to his meat anchor.

His body, that is.

He decided to skip the whole wiring thing and just stroll on into the dormitory wing as casually as possible. Still in his specter form, which had dulled quite a bit in brightness given his time outside, he proceeded through the entrance and down the halls, leading up to his room. Once he was relatively nearby, he happily jumped into a nearby wall socket and winded his way back into room 139's bathroom. Good thing the school maintenance staff had the decency to label all the wires with corresponding numbers or else he'd be lost as hell. After a moment, he emerged from the bathroom socket, aaaaaand... no body. He floated there for a moment, confused. He looked down to see his usual clothes were still present, yet his Nomex-clad organic form was not.

At that point, Zach heard two folks talking outside the bathroom, in the dorm. And he sort of theorized that his new buddy Mason had arrived in the dorm, found his body, deduced he was dead as fuck, and got a new roommate. Although that left one question. How'd they get in the bathroom? Door was still intact.

Oh, well.

Zach floated through the open bathroom passage and turned to see Mason and, that, one other guy from the cafeteria. With the hair. And the... and the hair, both standing over his intact body, neatly laid out on one of the beds. Oh, here we go.

"H͟e͟y.̧ Àss̵h͡ole͞s." The specter announced in the friendliest-sounding way he could, "F̕úc͠k͞ yơu ḑòin͏g͝ w҉ith̡ m̨y b͞o̸dy?̵"

Collab Between Liriia and World Traveler


Devin heard the small group of people walk off and figured they didn't hear him offer up a seat. It wasn't abnormal as most people don't seem to hear you unless you are also looking at them. A skill Devin wasn't completely equipped for. He turned back to his meal and ate by himself. The commotion that happened over on the far side was easy enough to hear, but pointless to pay attention to as far as Devin was concerned. His old high school had loud mouths and drama queens. It was sort of comforting to hear this place wasn't any different. Still he wasn't all too happy to be eating alone on his first day. At least back at his old school he would have his dog Nyx with him. He never felt alone when she was with him.

Feeling himself getting further and further down the rabbit hole of missing home Devin finished his meal and after trying to find where to put the tray was finally helped by a passing student. He thanked the person and then asked for directions to the main entrance. He followed them and finally reaching the end of the directions given to him wasn't sure where to go next. He heard a few people talking and then excused himself as he interrupted. "Hello, am I in the main entrance way? I am trying to get outside..." He tried to look in the direction of the woman's voice he heard. He stood with his cane in front of him and his two hands perched on top of it.

Just as P.K had escaped her first conversation, another wished to grab her attention. She made a show of turning her head tensely, allowing her eyes to visualize her pain and annoyance, but as soon as she caught a glimpse of the speaker behind her she realized he couldn't see any of it. His cane was the first give away, his pitch black and terrifying eyes were the next. Phoebe wasn't as stupid as most used to claim her to be, she could tell left from right, she knew the difference between a cat and dog. She was aware that a seeing person and a blind person weren't exactly alike as well. She took a short step towards the somewhat familiar-looking boy, repeating his question within her mind twice before answering with a tight, forced voice,

"You've got a short way to go, bud," P.K took another step forward, sandals clicking against the linoleum floor, "the front doors are just down these stairs. I'm heading that way too, shall I lead you?" Managing to control her voice somewhat, she forced a smile, and then promptly remembered that a reassuring face didn't really matter to this boy. P.K sucked in a small breath, running her cool hand through her messy curls before turning towards the stairs, snapping her fingers in the boy's general direction to attract his senses,

"let's rush along, then. Name's Phoebe by the way, mind telling me yours?" P.K didn't enjoy being so curt, but her chest was still filled with cotton, and she was basically begging for fresh air by now.

The woman seemed to pause after directing her attention towards Devin. This was normal and while Devin couldn't picture it he knew it meant the person was somewhat startled by his appearance and disability. As far as recovery goes she was decent he thought as she started to talk. She was friendly enough as she used words like buddy and offered to help him. "You can walk with me." Devin said and smiled. He wouldn't go into detail about how the phrase 'lead him' bugged him to someone he just met.

He also grabbed his cane a bit more tightly as the woman snapped her fingers. Since she stepped over towards him he had smelled the abundant fruit scents on her. It has been like walking into a farmers market. He liked it; however, being snapped at like he was a dog wasn't as 'helpful' as people seemed to think. "Don't worry I know where you are." He said with a polite tone. Devin could tell that his disability was making Phoebe uncomfortable. "My name is Devin." He figured it best to just talk about things with her. Especially if they were going to enjoy the outdoors together. "First time around someone who is blind?"

"Sorry, just can't be too sure, ya know?" She descended the stairs careful, clutching the folds of her sundress tightly as she kept one eye on the boy behind her. He seemed somewhat annoyed at her mannerisms, but then again, who wouldn't be? Obviously, she wasn't too sure on how to handle people who couldn't see her mostly animated facial features, her folks had always said she could be read like a book, thus leaving her to rely mostly on exaggerated expressions to move along conversations and convey emotions. How could someone who couldn't see understand her odd way of conversing?

easy, they cant. better find a new approach

At his question she shrugged, taking the last few steps down as quickly as possible before turning back,

"'suppose you could say that. I'm also feelin' a bit... Icky. Not 'cause of you, of course." P.K decided not to go any further into her discomfort, instead gliding towards the front doors with her usual silent steps. She pulled them open quickly and felt instant relief as the sunlight hit her face and the summer wind filled her lungs. She sucked in a deep breath, held it, and then sighed before turning back to Devin,

"I feel like I've seen you before, did you come here from the bus stop by any chance?" She held open the door for the boy, breathing deeply, trying to calm the entire aching left side of her body.

Devin nodded at Phoebe's comments while they made their way down the lower stairs to the front doors. As he walked outside and thanked his companion for keeping the door open he heard her take a big breath of air and seemingly relax all in one motion. He agreed that the outside was a much more pleasant environment. The wind had died down and now the calm air around him matched the calm sunny weather outside.

Devin heard Phoebe inquire about how he got to the school and smiled. "Yea I was on the bus. Seemed sort of weird to have us stand around and then bus to the school." Devin was going to continue, but stopped after he heard her take another big breath. "Are you feeling okay?" Devin had learned during his time at several parties that people taking deep breaths usually meant they were fighting something off and it was usually a bad thing. He even reached out with his hand. "Need some help?" He asked with a smile.

She stared at his hand for a moment, shrugged inwardly to herself, and then allowed her searing hot flesh to connect with his open palm. No use hiding what obviously would be found out eventually. It was a school of mutants after all, everyone's powers probably had a down side. P.K let her hand rest lightly on Devin's ultimately cooler flesh for a few seconds longer before pulling away, gnawing roughly on her lip before inching forward to take a seat on the front steps. She let out a drawn out sigh, shaking her head back and fourth slowly.

"I think I'm okay, just some backlash from messin' around with my... Skill? Power?"

whatever youd call it

Phoebe patted the step next to her, hopefully loud enough so Devin could interpret what she was doing, and then rose her eyes to the sky. She already felt the sunlight soaking her flesh, refueling her, numbing the pain slowly, and after some deep breaths P.K already began to feel like herself once more. She turned her attention back to Devin, hair tumbling over her shoulder as she cocked her head and inquired;

"so, what brings ya to PITY? I'm guessing it has something to do with ya wicked cool eyes."" She hoped he could hear the smile in her voice, and she wondered briefly if the question was too personal before brushing the worry off with a small giggle.

Powers... Devin thought to himself as the conversation turned. He had felt her hand almost heat up as it touched him. He didn't pull away or grab, but was relieved when Phoebe sat down and invited him with a loud pat of the step. He set his cane down after sitting and started to fold it up. He started to relax as he heard a few students come and go from the entrance the moment felt perfectly normal and reminded him of home.

"Let me know if you need me to get someone. Just...let me know sooner since it might take me a little longer." Devin said. Like many he was often heard using comedy to explain or mention his blindness. He knew some people found this awkward, but overall he didn't care what others thought. It was how he coped with it and it wasn't about to change. Thankfully, judging from her comment about his 'wicked eyes' Phoebe didn't seem to be afraid to bring it up.

"Seems so. I am here cause my family. They have been amazing dealing with my lack of sight, but whatever it is that is causing it is a little our of their league." Devin leaned back on his arms and let his head look up. "The past few years have been nothing but tests, science jargon, and moments of explosions or crazy antics. I wouldn't even know where to begin. I guess that is the biggest issue. No control and about as much comprehension as a five year old does about calculus." Devin sighed and then continued. "Then PITY reopened and my parents saw it as a resource. I wasn't too thrilled, but they said this place could help me learn how to control whatever it is going on with me. So I signed on."

"How about your story Phoebe?" Devin was careful not to ask about what specifically her power was since he in turn couldn't answer that question. He also knew that asking a mutant about what brought them where was a dicey situation. He had read and heard plenty of horror stories to know most mutants don't have the supportive family life he was raised with. "You said the breathing was part of your powers. You not able to control your abilities either?"

"I'll be fine." She responded quickly to his worries, and then sat back as Devin broke into his story. His reason for coming to this school. It seemed a bit more... scientific than her own. The whole idea of getting testing freaked her out more then any dark room could. Images of being splayed on a table filled her head, and the thought of being picked and prodded at made her skin prickle with discomfort. She pulled her knees up to her chest at Devin questioning her own passed, and a small sigh escaped her throat,

"I guess. It's hard to control something ya don't understand." P.K examined her shaking hand, breathing slowed to a constant rhythm, "my ability is photon manipulation. At least, that's what my brother called it, the easier term is 'light'." She thought for a moment if Devin would be interested in seeing some tricks, but then she caught a glimpse of his eyes and laughed at her own stupidity. A good laugh, a laugh that came from the chest, it had been awhile since she had laughed like that. Phoebe ran a hand through her hair again and then continued on,

"My family was pretty OK with the whole mutant thing. They accepted me, but didn't really do much about it. It was like they ignored that part of me, kinda. Sorta. I don't know." P.K shrugged at the thought, images of quiet dinners and annoyed glances replaying within her mind. Her parents never did enjoy her showing off any of her power in the house.

"I'm the one who decided to go here, actually. I've never been able to control or understand my ability well, and PITY seemed like the best place to, ya know, train. And start over, but we don't have to get into that." She drew circles on her bare knee, watching the brown flesh lighten slightly with each motion, "I don't think this place is too bad. Maybe a bit overbearing, but learning to control yourself can help, ya know?"

And then silence filled the conversation, if only for a moment. The two sat on the front steps, perhaps lost in thought or they were merely enjoying the beauty of the day silently. Phoebe let her eyes shut, breathing deeply, feeling a little more at ease now that she had managed to talk to someone so casually.

---

Mason heard a faint buzzing sound, and looked at Casper for a second. He raised an eyebrow, about to voice his confusion, before a voice interrupted him and made him jump.

"H͟e͟y.̧ Àss̵h͡ole͞s." the voice crackled. "F̕úc͠k͞ yơu ḑòin͏g͝ w҉ith̡ m̨y b͞o̸dy?̵"

Before them stood - or rather, hovered - a bizarre entity, floating a few feet above the ground. Its body fizzed and thrummed with electricity around a blank human form. His body? Mason thought, glancing back at the unconcious Zach lying on the bed.

"Switch..?" Mason asked, cautiously.

"Wh̢o̷ ̴e̵l̛se̛?̷" The specter replied, ͜"̡I ̛m͢e͠àn҉ fo͏r ͟rea͟l͜,̀ w̡ḩo͏ ͠e̸l̨s͘e ͞w҉o͜uld͝ ͏it ̴be?"

With Casper's attention on the form laying before him, he would never have expected a third person, or rather entity enter the room. Spinning around to meet the specter, the boy would almost have a heart attack from the frightning sight and stumbled back towards the bed, accidently pushing it a distance. "S-sorry...!" He managed, now having fallen to his behind. "W-wait...You're...?" This electrical being owned the body placed on the bed?

"̷W͜ha̵t ͡th͜e̸ f̀u͞c̷k҉ ͟is ̸i͜t ҉w̨ith ̛y͢ou ̛p̵e̶o̵p͞le͏ a͏nd͘ ͝fa҉ll̴in͟g ̴on ͜yo̷ur͜ a̧s̴s͡e̵s a̷ll͢ ̸thé time̢.̕"͢

"Y-you...scared me..." Casper gulped, still on the floor as he looked between the specter and Mason.

"̷D͜u̸d̶ę, c̡'̨m͟on̨.̴ M͜a̸n͘ u͘p.͡"

As the situation began to sink in, Mason became relieved that Zach was OK; at least in some ghostly capacity, that was. He figured it had something to do with the guy's power. "You freaked us out, dude," Mason said, trying to explain away the fact that he and Casper had removed his unconcious body from a locked bathroom and placed it on a bed. "You looked, well... Y'know..." he said, shooting another look towards the comatosed body. "...Distinctly 'Not OK'."

"͏Nah͏, t̡h̴at'̢s̡ ͠ju̷st̵ how it̕ w̕o͞rk̀s."̨ Zach replied, shrugging, "̧C̸a̴n't ͠ţàk̀e mý ̀b̸o̸dy ̛wíth͠ mé ̷w͡h̵e̸n̷ I̴ g͜hos҉t͝."̶

Given the fact that Zach had been in a fight and was called 'freak', his feelings were surely hurt. There was no telling to what extent. Casper didn't know Zach and he couldn't measure his mental stability in any way. Given his situation and then being bullied for it in the cafeteria, it was only logical to assume the worst when finding him unconcious. "S-sorry...we...we didn't mean to overstep...I'll just..." The boy stood, now feeling awkward beyond measure. "I can leave..."

"Na̕h ̶m͠an ͞i̸t̡'̴s̶ ̡coơl."̡ Zach said, floating past the two and hovering over his body. "T͠hank̕s ͜fo͞ŕ ͏l̵ày̸i̶ng ̡me̢ ͢ǫut̢ ̧li̛k̡e fr͢i̧g͟gin ̵Sn̷ów͏ ̸Ẃh̷ite̷ tho̢ugh͜.͝" He floated in place for a bit, repositioning himself into an identical manner as his organic body. He paused for a moment, then allowed himself to drop down and merge. As the process carried on for all of a few seconds, a few stray sparks hit the bed's comforter. Causing a small fire or two. As the meat-Zach regain consciousness, he pat down the fires. Then he groaned, raising a hand to his eyes.

"'Un uth ya... gah in the 'athrun, get the eye drahs in 'y hoodie 'ocket..."

Understanding this young man was a challange in and of itself. Casper did however catch that he needed his eye drops as they were called. Without saying another word, the boy walked into the bathroom to retrieve them. Since he felt like he didn't quite belong as it was, he could at least making himself a little useful.

"Here you go..." Casper spoke silently as he handed the item of relevance to Zach.

Zach took the eye drops and promptly raised the little bottle above his face, squeezing two drops into each swollen eyeball. He shut them for a bit, then reared back on the slightly scorched bed a bit. "Ah..." He said, "Thanks, 'an. Eyes kinda suck." He crossed his legs and rested his hands underneath his head, pausing for a moment. "A'ight, q'estion. Hah'd ya get inta the 'athroon? I locked it."

Turning to look at Mason, Casper was also very eager for an explanation. They had been too caught up in getting to Zach for Mason to have informed the younger boy of its specifics.

Mason had been sitting quietly, weighing up the situation in his head. He masked a wince by scratching his forehead when that question was asked. If Mason's power was good for anything, it was stealth and acts of espionage; he certainly didn't feel like revealing all his tricks this early on. He shot a brief glance at Casper that said everything he needed to: Roll with me.

"We called the medical ward, 'cause we were worried." Mason knew that good lies were always grounded in some element of truth. "They put us through to the janitor and he explained over the phone how to open up the door. Y'know, for emergencies and such." he said, in a tone he thought was convincing.

"Really?" Zach replied, glaring at Mason. He snickered a bit and said, "I call 'ullshit."

"I...I'm just...happy you're okay..." Casper looked down, unable to meet Zach's eyes, or Mason's for that matter. Why were they lying? What could Mason possibly gain from keeping his power a secret at this place? Even if he really wanted to, it was going to come out at some point. Well, either way, it wasn't Casper's call to make. "M-my..." The boy began, sighing internally. "My strength...made it easy to make a gap between the doorframe and...the...door...that gap allowed us to move the lock w-without...damaging the door...according t-to the...janitor..." What the hell was he going on about? Well, whatever. He had gone this far. "I-is it really...important...?"

"Nah." Zach replied, turning his head back up towards the cieling. "Dun gotta ex'lain, I'n on ta ya. Doesn't take a genius."

Mason sighed in defeat. Zach might've sounded mentally stunted, but... The guy was very much switched on, if you'll pardon the pun. "Alright, alright," he groaned. "I didn't wanna come here on my first day and be the one who shows off his party trick." he said, trying to think of an excuse that wasn't simply 'because that would make spying difficult'. He rubbed the back of his neck, "People can be suspicious of my power. And rightfully so. But that didn't strike me as the best way to get my foot in the door and make new friends, y'know?" he explained.

"Ya gunna cut the shit an' just tell 'e already er not?" Was Zach's reply.

Without speaking, Mason walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Zach might have thought he was throwing some kind of dramatic tantrum, especially as he heard the rattling and scrambling of Mason climbing atop the toilet, putting one foot on the sink and then reaching forward towards the mirror. "Damn things always gotta be in the least convenient places...", he muttered under his breath.

Within a few seconds, the tall standing mirror beside the bed began to ripple like disturbed water, and Mason swiftly emerged from the reflective and well-polished surface. "Ta-da," he said in a mocking tone.

"Heh." Zach replied, looking up at Mason. "Neat."

Mason disregarded the comment. "I'd, uh... Appreciate it if we kept this on the down-low for now." he said, to Casper as much as he was to Zach.

"S-sure..." Casper nodded in response. It wasn't like anyone would ask him either way. "I...I should return to my room...still haven't met my own roommate...heh." The boy continued, offering the two a soft, albiet rather forced smile.

"'Eah." Zach replied, sitting up and detaching himself from the bed, heading towards the bathroom. "See ya."

"L-let me just..." Casper moved closer to the bed and pulled it back into position. He couldn't just leave a mess behind. "Bye...it was really nice meeting you again...u-under better circumstances..." The boy nodded at Mason who was still in the room before he moved to he the door and into the corridor. With one final wave, the boy would then dissapear into the corridor and back into his own room.