From his perch on the back of the couch, Jackson's attention split between the group he'd been drawn into and the smattering of people entering and exiting the common area. His shoulders were tense, and he turned his head slightly to the side, the disturbance in the air standing out to him. Someone short, perhaps? They were close to the ground- [i]Oh God.[/i] Nearly falling off of the back of the couch, Jackson steadied himself with an uneasy laugh, waving off his almost-fall to the group and turning to the girl that had sprung up beside him. She rattled off an introduction, and he grinned easily at her in response.

[color=#778ba5]"I'm Jackson, eighteen years young,"[/color] he chuckled, turning the best he could from where he sat to put his hand out in case she'd shake it. [color=#778ba5]"Jack works just as well, though."[/color]

If he was being honest, Jackson was uneasy enough as it was, being freely among other mutants - they knew, because he was here, that he was a mutant, too. That transparency was a struggle for him after hiding for four years, but now, being approached rather than being the one to approach, his smile was a little less steady that it had previously been. But the girl was young, and friendly enough, so he took a steadying breath and drew his focus to the person in front him, rather than letting it drift around the room again.

[color=#778ba5]"So, if Florence isn't going to work, how about Jitterbug?"[/color]