Amid the sudden influx of students into the library, Dana Griese had shuffled surreptitiously in front of the table occupied by the group, pretending to pore over some tome laid out for inspection by the vampire hunting club - while, in reality, she was hastily stuffing a pair of large handguns into the bundle that had been made of her pea coat. She had gleefully laid them out at the librarian's request, sure he was testing each of them on their capabilities and methodologies. She had thought for sure her assumption was proven correct when Blaine pulled out his small crystal trinket.

After all, these could make a Holy Flash...

Buuuuuut she was not about to take the chance that the entire school was filled with supernatural minders that would turn a blind eye on weaponry within the school. Clearly America's happy-go-lucky munitions laws, though less stringent than those of her homeland, stopped applying when she took a step inside the school. And the exchange student possessing at least two hand cannons and a V-42 stiletto on her person at all times would no doubt raise questions, even among the jaded populace of Washington's local high school.

How foolish.

Bloodsucking demons could breach school grounds with little difficulty, of that Dana had no doubt. If they ever stayed at school late one night, and one were to approach her charge and attack, what means would Dana have to defend her with? A jury-rigged stake, fashioned from rulers and No. 2 pencils? Nonsense. She would need something to carry on her person in case of a bind. But this school had - for good reason - not ever been proofed against the supernatural, and Dana lacked both the patience and the English to make a gripping appeal to the school board. So, in the meantime, a few little weapons!

...

(Big weapons have to stay in the trunk.)

Only because Vicci-chan said so.

Speaking of, Dana needed to talk to her about this new series of developments later. While she had always been pigmentally challenged (which meant less than crap to Dana, who came from a country where pale skin very much remained a traditional sign of beauty) the dark-haired girl she protected looked positively rattled, having ceded even the usual faint red blush of her cheeks to a fearful porcelain color. It seemed as though the bullet points of this Slayer's life had adversely affected Victoria.

Dana thought it was awesome - almost as awesome as the fact that US Army tactics apparently worked on vampires?

This country is the best archenemy I could ever ask for!

Of course, hotblooded as she was, Dana was not so blinded by her want of a good fight that she couldn't notice the reactions of those around her. It seemed that nobody else was taking news of the Slayer as well as she was - even Casey and Danny's glib, prying replies had been fraught with tension, suspicious and aloof.

"Well, so much for Sailor Moon," Dana scoffed, having bundled her weaponry safely in her coat and bundled that coat between her arms and abdomen. "Did you see? She ran away as soon as she saw us. Slayer. She needs a spine. And Dior. She needs Dior in her life."

Her delivery of English, though still retaining the unfamiliar staccato of her learning days, had grown fluid and forceful; she seemed grouchy that she had been in the same room with the Slayer without either of them being tossed bodily through three bookcases.

"And the...library man," she continued. "I don't care what he says. If his job is...this Slayer. The Slayer will be his priority. We will be...afterthought. Afterthoughts. Did you see? He's already absolved himself. In case we die. Or in case she lets us die."

Dana pulled on her coat, after making sure that both her pistols were safely fastened from the inside.

"Fuck that," the Japanese exchange student grumbled. "This Slayer. This library man. They need us too. And I'm going to go tell the Slayer that today. Welcoming committee."

Everything spoken by Ash Pierce rung a bell internally for Adam. It was time for a wake-up call but not necessarily the kind most would have. Not even the kind that his family would have preferred. It sounded like a war was about to start in the secret dark alleys of Washington and it meant Adam's business might suffer for it or it might have benefited from it. Of course there was the whole pesky demon hunting thing that his family would have nagged him about now that this 'Crowe' was becoming a bigger issue. That wasn't really what bothered him though. Truly it was his reputation as 'The Man Who Can Get You Anything' that can get you anything coming to harm that actually worried him. He was a bit gallant that way.

"Mister Ash Pierce, the man of the hour." Adam muttered to himself and let out a slightly less than subtle laugh, never bothering to mention what was so hilarious in the first place. He shook his head before moving his head over to his fellow occult-dabbler-ites. His head first focusing on Dana. He stared at her with a rather confused look on his face before actually speaking, something was rather obviously bothering him. "So you find out about an entity dangerous more than all of us combined and you want to challenge it to a fight? Hey, I'm all for showing courage. Just let me know where you have this fight, I want to hold a betting ring... Just don't be offended if I say that the smart money's on the new girl."

He clapped his hands once, moving on from the subject swiftly, preferring not to invoke the ire of the Japanese fashion police. At least not too much of it. He turned his head to Danny. "Hey, thanks for calling that old coot out on his crap, one of us needs to have the cojones to do it." He snapped his fingers and picked his bag up from under the table, taking a deep sniff of the middle pocket. "Ah! Time for some good old-fashioned education, I'm off to photography class, children, let me know by text if you want me to get you anything by fourth period." He slung the backpack over his back nonchalantly as he spoke.

He began walking off in somewhat of a hurry, remarkably contradictory to his calm demeanor but he did stop just short of exiting the class and pointed at Casey. "Don't ask me for a family album of the Averys again." He stretched his arms out and yawned. "It's too expensive anyway." He said before turning and making his leave out of the library, proceeding to go to his photography class. No one really knows why he took it, some thought it's because he had some particular customers he took orders from during class but the truth was far more mundane... He just liked photography as an art, his secret hobby was making collages.

The librarian didn't hear any more from Victoria, not before he left. Her eyes had steadily narrowed as he spoke, taking in and processing the information given. She didn't move, not an inch, until well after he had left. It was hard to tell she was even breathing, her movements had slowed and quieted to the point that she seemed more statue than woman. Pallor lent her the appearance of marble, as though she'd turned to stone before their very eyes.

Her eyes, in fact, were the easiest way to tell she was listening at all. The way they narrowed, shifted, moved from point to point with an undeniable intensity. Dana's behavior elicited the phantom of a smile, but her focus was absolute. Caution crept into her features, into her body language, just like the chill settled deep in her bones again.

The vampire, Crowe, didn't worry her. Maybe he should have, if Pierce was right, but he didn't. A man fearsome in life would be fearsome in undeath, but at the end of the day he was a vampire. Not an especially old one, either. The only worrisome thing was his intellect. That was where the danger lay, if he was as dangerous as the librarian thought. He didn't lack for cunning, if last night was any indication. Simple though it may have been leading the group into a trap like that had certainly caught them off guard. Vampires usually operated with little more than thuggish coordination, alliances through common goals rather than any real ideology.

If Crowe's gang was more militaristic, that could be a problem.

Still, he wasn't on her mind. The Slayer was. The girl with military training, inhuman abilities, and a willingness to use them both. Washington, as strange as it was to say, had felt... Safe. The vampires were a threat, but they were a threat everywhere. And in Washington, she had a team. A group, ragtag though it may be, to watch each other's backs. And they were good at it, too. That didn't bring fear; hearing the librarian cast doubt on their abilities made her angry. She didn't particularly care what he claimed to know. Or who he claimed to be. His knowledge was an asset, but one that had been vague at best up until now. He could claim responsibility for their success if he liked, but it was meaningless. He was hands off. Laissez-faire. He wasn't in the trenches with them each night, fighting for his life and the lives around him. He didn't watch her back, and he didn't watch their backs either. Her trust was theirs, when it came down to it. They'd earned it. Her life was as much in their hands as theirs in hers and they hadn't given Victoria any reason to doubt them.

Dana was right. He was covering his own ass.

And she could see why. The Slayer had not been the picture of stability, and she was the source of her fear. That their 'ally' might decide they weren't her concern after all. Or, even worse, that they were in her way. Casey's support for her hadn't been a surprise; he'd always struck her as the most trigger-happy when it came to the supernatural. If he couldn't look at it and see a white hat, something he could empathize with, it was the enemy. That was what she'd seen, at least. He'd probably put it a different way. The reservations others had, though... They'd all made good points. Showed yet again that they could be trusted.

That was something the librarian and this Slayer would have to earn, though given the choice she'd rather they were both three states away.

Victoria moved for the first time since Pierce left, stepping forward to briefly lay a hand on Dana's shoulder. She did give a faint smile this time, one earned by her friend's comments. Having her around fought off the chill, just a little.

"Easy, Dana. Time enough to make enemies later." She looked, briefly, at the other people in the room. Adam had left, but she knew how to reach him later. If she needed to. It was the others she wanted to say a few words to. "But I think Dana's right. If Mr. Pierce and this Slayer are allies, great. But I don't trust either of them. Pierce kept us in the dark, and his intentions had nothing to do with keeping us safe. Leveling with us when he realized what was going on would have saved a lot of trouble. His intentions are his own, and they're not necessarily the same as ours."

"And I'd prefer this Slayer was nowhere near here. I'm going to try and do some research later. Blaine, if you end up doing some, let me know what you find. Please. Dana... I think I'd be happier if we kept some of your toys a little closer to hand than normal."

Casey left the library, having heard enough from the librarian, and feeling like he trusted the man even last than when he was in the dark. Sure, the guy probably wasn’t evil but he was certainly shady and his super-secret group of dudes spying on teenagers was creepy. He had certainly noticed how Peirce had shared all sorts of details about the slayer’s personal life while keeping his own motives and order still fairly private. He referred to his college as Watcher, which hardly sounded any more helpful than Adam’s term “looker.” So, Peirce lurked around watching things happen, but why not take a more active approach, what sort of character could a man who let teenagers fight battles for him possibly have. He had to agree with Danny and for once take the cynical point of view.

As for Crowe, well Casey was fine with Peirce labeling him insane because he wasn’t exactly afraid of some redneck, rebel flag waving, loser vampire. He was annoyed that Peirce thought his group not threat enough for one vampire, they’d taken out plenty of vampires together, what was one more.

Casey smirked at Adam’s comment as the guy headed to photography class; no family photo albums for him. “How about just an artistic nude of your mom then?” He snarked back at Adam. He somewhat surprised to hear Victoria’s lack of trust in both the slayer and the watcher. Not trusting Peirce was understandable, he’d been keeping secrets and withholding information, lies of omission were still lies to him. The Slayer on the other hand had done nothing but save their lives and probably had good reason for ducking out just now. Maybe, it was as Peirce said and she felt it was awkward but she certainly hadn’t done anything that he could see as wrong, and he always felt the best way to know if you could trust someone was to try it out and see what happens.

Casey headed to his next class, Latin, his choice in foreign language credit. He been taking Latin since the eighth grade having an interest in being able to read those weird old occult books himself as well as a fascination with ancient Romans. In general, he wasn’t the academic type but he found this class both fun and helpful in his true passion; monster hunting. He had put a fair amount of thought into his class schedule, first coffee and waking up time aka study hall, once awake and caffeinated, Latin, a class he paid attention in and gave half a damn about. Following that he had computer programming, something simple and relaxing, but also boring for him as he had no real interest in it and he used the time mostly to finish up any homework he needed done or to goof around online. Finally, just before lunch was his terrible mistake; woodshop. He had assumed it would be an easy course, the meatheads on the football team always took it, but, everyday Casey was counting himself lucky that he still had all his fingers and limbs at the end of forth period. He took his seat in woodshop and hoped like hell that lucky streak would continue.

It was strange, really. You'd think that a librarian offloading a bunch of information would have cleared things up, but really, it had just left them with more questions than ever before.

As Adam and Casey both picked up and headed to their class, Danny ran his hands through his hair once, then stood to leave to. No, not to go to class - just home for a nap. He slung his bag over his shoulder and pushed back his chair, leaving it shoved away from the table as he walked out.

He paused just before heading through the door, one hand pressed against the cool wooden surface. "Dana?" His head half turned in her direction, casually, as if this was merely an afterthought - though his words had the sense that they were carefully chosen, nonetheless. "If you see this Slayer chick, go easy on her. Like... She's a badass apparently, okay. Neat. But she's also the new girl on her first day in this dump, so this is automatically a bad day already. And - she might be super cool, for all we know."

His eyes shifted from Dana then, briefly meeting Victoria's considered, calm gaze. "Or she might be batshit crazy. But we'll deal with that if it happens. No needta worry yet."

Then he pushed the door open and stepped out, reaching for his headphones before he was even over the threshold.

He didn't come back to school until woodshop class. Danny liked woodshop. It was mindless work, but still - he liked to make things, preferred to keep his hands busy so his mind was free to wander. "Not academically inclined", as his third-grade homeroom teacher had tactfully phrased it on his end-of-year report card, as if stating the blunt truth might have damaged his fragile kid-mind in some way.

Danny took up his usual seat behind Casey on the less-crowded side of the room. Usually he would have cheerfully swatted Casey on the back of the head to startle him and then and called him a loser or something, but not this time. After being jumped by a bazillion vamps the night before and the library revelations of the morning, sudden sneak-attacks seemed like a bad idea. Tension causes stress and breaks bones, after all.

Instead, he just slumped down in his seat and waited for class to begin, a bundle of moody elbows and unruly hair. At least woodshop was an easy class. Boring, really. And that was great, because Danny had already had his fill of surprises and unexpected happenings for the day.

She was lost in the shuffle of action and motion that was the halls of Washington High School, ignoring the open locker in front of her, head turned to the side to take in the spectacle of "high school welcomes": anyone you saw with a class schedule in front of them was fair game, all you had to do was snatch the schedule out of their hands and tear it. A little bit. A lot of bit. Or crumple it up into a ball and toss it over your shoulder. And then kick the crumpled up class schedule ball when it's on the ground.

All in good fun, sure, she thought. A few times it got nasty, a fact that seemed a stark reminder to her what public high school was all about: savagery. At the moment, between third period and fourth period, she watched as a kid got his pristine schedule ganked from his hands as he concentrated on it. He was flustered, irritated. The reaction only seemed to fuel the savages on more. What began as a tiny little tear and holding it out for the poor kid to take back, became a quick take back, and handed to a fellow savage. Rip, all the way down the middle. Laughter roared out in the middle of the hall as the group of seniors made the kid look like a cuck in the middle of the crowded hall.

"Here you go, cuck," they said, as they offered the pieces to him, before tossing it up in the air to fall to the ground as the kid tried to take the pieces.

Most of the kids with schedules were Freshman. This cucked kid was not. Chubby, hispanic, with long middle parted black hair and thick glasses. Cargo shorts, and a teeshirt under a flanel button up left buttoned, either for style or necessity. No, Emy had seen this kid at the office this morning when she was checking in. He was a new kid on his first day, like her, a senior too to make it all worse. Now he was "Cuck", and Emy had even money that it would be the nickname that stuck with him for at least a few weeks.

Could've been worse. One ear bud was tugged from her right ear as she closed her locker, and walked to the middle of the hall. By the time she reached the middle of the hall, Cuck was standing up, and nearly jumped when he noticed her standing next to him. She could see it written on his face: Oh, fuck, a girl. What do I say? She probably thinks I'm a loser. As if on cue, Emy smiled a small, coy, thing of a smile as she studied the remains of the schedule and nodded. "Yeah, just get a few pieces of tape from your next class and I think you'll be fine. Might want to ask the office workers to laminate that thing for you, though. You know, to avoid further Cucking."

His brown eyes were slow to react. She could almost hear his thoughts. Did she just say... In the end, Emy guessed the mental math told him any cute girl was worth the attention, even if it was pity. So he fake chuckled and thanked her and moved along, slightly dragging his feet as he moved, posture slightly slouched forward. Oh, well. She tried. It was that exact moment Emy Vance realized she was in the middle of the hall, and eyes were on her. She was a new girl. Worse, she wasn't, exactly, unfortunate looking. The attention and the whispers were around, and those weren't just her Slayer senses kicking into high gear. Although they could, and in high school, that was a horrible thing.

Back in went the right ear bud, a quick few slides of her thumb and a tap or two, and the song came up in her ears, blasting. FIDLAR's "No Waves"; a punk song with fast music and faster lyrics. Casually as a Sunday morning she slipped out her class schedule from her glittery backpack slung over her right shoulder, and began reading. Reading, and dodging. The first came from a kid with a mop of sandy blonde hair who looked like mommy dressed him for his first day; he attempted to snatch it right out of her hands, and instead jammed his hand into her left elbow. Five more steps, and a black kid--THEY EXISTED IN WASHINGTON WOW--tried a stealthier approach. Much like with the last kid, Emy never actually looked at the guy, she just brushed his hand away with a quick deflection of her right arm and kept walking.

Sure, they could steal and rip some poor chubby kid's class schedule, or some freshman who was too tired to look up and walk at the same time. Stealing a Slayer's class schedule was a different matter entirely, however. The louder the punk music got, the more she bounced, until she was downright dancing down the hall, isolated and lost in a cascade of pulsating bass guitars and power chords and a heavy drumline. One of the savages thought he'd be slick, walking close to her in a crowd, eyes on her schedule. She hip bumped him into the nearest row of lockers; a subtle use of strength. The rest was just pure head banging and dancing; by the time she reached the vocational hallway, she straight spun out of one guy's reach, and back-stepped another senior troll so hard he almost lost his balance completely.



Suddenly the singer to FIDLAR was screaming in her ears as "Cocaine" came over the earbudded airwaves. Emy headnodded her way into the shop class with a few minutes to spare. The class was only, from what she saw, a dozen kids. Though there were doubtlessly one or two, or more, stragglers that would enter the class right before the bell. Or even right after it. Music went dead and earbuds were yanked from her ears as she tilted her head one way for the left earbud, then right for the right earbud--the entire time her bright brown eyes had locked on the guy blinking at her: Casey, she thought she heard one of them call him from inside the library study room, as she listened past the door while the Librarian, and obvious Watcher, tried to talk to her.

Emy found herself smirking at him. Did he see the monster hunting monsters from the night before? Did he see the new girl in school with killer eyeshadow and eyeliner? Who knews, for certain, quickly her eyes moved on and her smirk went with it, to one of the other guys from last night. He seemed more apprehensive. There was no guessing if he saw the monster hunting monsters or the new girl. His eyes made it obvious. Eyes she was quickly distracted from as someone sat down next to her at the table she was at. It was one of the savages. A little too much hair product in wavy light brown hair. Cute-ish, but a little too try hard. Plus...Axe? She wanted to gag, but the guttural sound was suppressed when her face went black, absent of anything close to amusements, or bemusements.

He pretended to notice her for the first time. Like she wasn't the reason she sat down at the table to begin with. "Oh, hey."

"Savage."

He stared. "...savage?"

"Pretty savage with the poor kid's schedule."

"Poor kid?" Nervous laughter masked to sound like cocksure laughter that just came across as a clumsy sound to her super sharpened senses. "All's fair in the first day of school. Like you nudging J-Dog into lockers when he tried to grab your schedule. You can call me a savage all you like, with those moves, I think I'll call you Ninja."

Her eyes stayed at the front of the class she sat and settled her backpack on the table next to her. "Ninja? I'm guessing it's your creative genius that also came up with 'J-Dog'?"

"Ouch. New girl has fangs." It was the kind of reference that made her head snap in his direction. He looked all too pleased with himself, not realizing he said a black magic word to a black magic woman. "Maybe we shouldn't talk so much? Looks like the freak show is getting a little on edge about it." He snickered, causing her eyes to retreat back over her shoulder. To Casey. To the kid that was talking with Casey in hushed tones, that one that looked at her like she was the monster, not the savior.

"One to a table, please." The teacher, Mr. Franklin, scruffy salt and pepper middle aged and wearing department store shirt and tie with GAP slacks, announced as he entered. Before the savage could say a word or move a muscle, Emy was out of her seat with backpack in hand, retreating to a table in the back of the room, the table behind the kid behind Casey, eyeing the skill saw just off to the right of her table. Oh, the stakes she could make with that sweet saw...

"Let's all start with a worksheet. Get to know the tools for the room and your table, go around the room and fill out the name for each tool on the sheet. You may gather in groups, or just crowd source knowledge. Even use your 'pocket computers', smartphones, if you want--just keep the Snapchatting and Vineing to a minimum." When a handful of students laughed, Franklin stopped, and frowned. "What? The kids don't 'Vine' anymore?...well, whatever you do." By the time he was done brushing off the ageism, he was handing the worksheet out to the last student without one: Emy, in the back.

"I'll be right back, don't burn the room down, don't turn any of the power equipment on. Please, Lord." Mr. Franklin retreated out of the room, and Emy Vance was suddenly in her backpack, looking for her pen. A pen she realized...she left in her locker, when she was distracted by watching Cuck getting cucked by the savages in the hell. Great.

"Hey, uh..." At first she looked up to kid who looked at her with uneasy eyes, only to immediately look past him, to Casey. "Casey, right?...hook a sister up with an extra pen? I mean, I did save your life, and everything." And she smiled, sweet as a preacher's girl on Sunday morning.

With the morning she was having, PE seemed like just the thing.

Not freshman PE, that living nightmare. Not being forced to play team sports with a wide range of ungainly or overbearing teenagers. That sort of thing Victoria had taken years ago, and crossed it right off her prerequisite list. This was an optional one, more general fitness. Even calling it a 'class' was a bit of a stretch; they were supervised, of course, and had to meet the fitness goals they set in order to maintain a decent grade... But it largely consisted of turning the class loose in the fitness facilities. Weight machines, running track, free weights, all the facilities a decent high school needed. Most of the students took it for the excuse to lift weights or get in shape.

In her opinion, a period a day dedicated to fitness was the perfect thing for a vampire hunter.

So she left the library in relative silence, letting the things she had seen and heard bounce around in her head. Try and understand it. The walk to the locker rooms was quick, as was the process of changing into clothes better suited for gym. They may have made Dana scowl in their simplicity, but fashion wasn't really a priority for gym class.

She let the usual inane chatter of the girls around her float right past her ears, not paying it a moment's mind. The rumors about who was dating who, or who said what about whom behind their back, meant less than nothing to her. It was frankly astounding that such obliviousness existed. Any one of these girls could be a vampire's quarry that night, or any of their friends may have the previous night, and they just didn't realize. Or if they did perceive even the slightest thing out of the ordinary they chose to close their eyes all the harder.

People just didn't see what they didn't want to see. Their little bubble of normalcy was nicer.

Even she had one, if she was honest. Hers had gotten popped too when entirely unknown factors started introducing themselves. Those factors were what had gotten under her skin, truthfully. A quick mile run to get the blood pumping was ample time to think about it. Pierce had always been more than he let on, and clearly more at that. But no one ever pressed him. What he gave was useful, and no one really seemed concerned about him.

Maybe they should've been paying closer attention. Still, it was the Slayer that had her concern. It wasn't surprising that some of their number thought she was the coolest thing since sliced bread. Anything that could take out a vampire like that was bound to get Casey hyped, for sure. And others felt like they should give her a chance. If she was an asset, great. But no one had any influence over her. Even Pierce didn't seem to, and he was the only one who knew what was up.

The look on her face from the night before kept popping to the forefront of her mind, jarring whenever she tried to think of the innocuous girl that she'd seen that morning.

Her frown deepened while she turned her attention to a punching bag, breaking the silence for the first time while she started to take out her stresses on it with each punch.

"What do you think, Dana?"

Casey heard movement behind him and spun around as Danny slouched into his usual seat. Casey immediately spun around in his seat and turned to face Danny. It was a bit odd that his friend hadn’t attempted to test his awareness of his surroundings, normally he took opportunities like this to give Casey a smack in the head. Strange, he wondered if Danny was still tense from the night before, it seemed like everyone else was a lot more worried about their recent brush with death than he. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d realized he had less of a sense of self-preservation than the rest of the group did. Casey always figured things would work out in their favor, they were the good guys and in the end, they had to survive and succeed because that was the way he understood the world to work.

“Why so serious?” Casey asked his friend in his most mediocre Joker impression. “Seriously, dude, it’s a great day to not be a bloodless corpse in an abandoned house and you look like someone just smoked your last nug.” He was about to keep rambling on but, low and behold, who should walk into woodshop class but the slayer. Actually, it kind of made perfect sense for a vampire slayer to take a class that involved making things out of wood. “Looks like Wonder Woman’s in our class. You think a wooden sword would be use-” He stopped and rolled his eyes as he saw Chad Johnson flirting with the slayer. “Ew.” He said shaking his head. Fucking Chad, the meathead that thought calling him things like freak show, trailer boy, and psycho were creative insults. Before he had a chance to say anything else Mr. Franklin was talking about vines, really dude, vines, handing out worksheets, really this class has worksheets, and telling him to turn around, please don’t let this be a do your work quietly class.

He glanced at the worksheet but before he really figured out what it was all about someone was asking him for a pen. Casey looked up surprised to see the slayer. Did she say my name? How does the slayer know my name? Do I know her name? He thought, staring blankly at the slayer who was offering a friendly smile. Be cool man, think of something cool to say.

“Sure, I guess I could let Wonder Woman borrow a pen, this makes us even though right. I mean I can’t go around worrying about owning a life debt. And yeah, it’s Casey, nice to actually meet you?” He said “you” as if it were a question hoping to get a name and handed her the pen he was holding. It was technically his only pen but if it got him out of a life debt it was worth it, and he figured he’d just borrow a pen from Danny or someone later.

"Dana? Am I Dana? Am I dreaming? Snow Queen wants to have a conversation now?"

For a time, Victoria had been shadowed to an almost paranoid degree by her Japanese guardian angel; Dana had been alongside or ahead of the pale girl for the majority of their mile run around the track, and for a time Dana had contented herself with trying the rock wall instead of her normal chin-up routine while trying to eke conversation out of the other young woman. All her efforts, to this point, had failed; it was clear that Victoria was lost in thought, and on such occasions the best thing to do was adopt Dana's preferred strategy of sulking and walking away to do squats.

Said exercise were far more productive than trying to crack open Victoria's shell. If she kept at it, she'd be on pace to squat 2.5x body weight by the end of the semester. That still wouldn't prevent her from needling the other girl as she made her way over to the punching bag, a large canister of cold water in her hand. Irritating her charge seemed like fair recompense for being so cruelly ignored.

Grinning, Dana popped the lid of her Thermos open with her teeth and took a few healthy, refreshing gulps of ice water before dumping a small stream down Victoria's front and along her face.

"What do I think?" the Japanese girl shrugged, setting her drink down on the ground beside the punching bag and adopting her preferred stance. Turn just so, thumbs kept out of the fists...

"Don't care. We're not vampires. She won't be hunting us. Shouldn't be, anyway. If she is, we stop her. If she wants to hunt me? Eheh. Go for it, girl."

Dana started falling into a similar rhythm as Victoria, and for a third of a minute the girls batted the bag back and forth like a pair of kittens obsessed with getting a ball of yarn past each other. After that twenty second sojourn in the conversation, Dana caught the bag and peeked around it at the quiet girl.

"Orrrr maybe Danny's right, and she's okay. Who knows, who cares. Maybe she just...don't know. Doses up. Takes ketamine. Fights vampires. Maybe she needs a gentle walk home. What's her type, you think? Nerd? Football player? Bad boys? Bad girls?"

The grin poking out at Victoria turned downright wicked, and the bag swung back in the white girl's direction after a series of brief punches.

Victoria rolled her eyes a little at her friend's response, but let the jabs pass unanswered. The Japanese girl would get to her answer eventually. In the meantime the cold water felt quite nice, a refreshing contrast to the hot, humid air of the fitness room. Public school, after all, was public school; unless it was as hot as Hell outside, they weren't going to give the budget to keeping certain rooms cooler than others. Have to love budget cuts.

She listened with just a faint frown as Dana responded, batting the bag back and forth with alternating strikes. Not really a matter of how hard either could hit, mostly just practice. Get the heart rate up, keep their technique in good shape, and provide an outlet for any frustrations. Of which she admittedly had many, so the exercise was proving most helpful. A calming, repetitive motion. Hit, noise, wait, swing, hit. Easy enough to process the opinions Dana vocalized in the process. Her frown deepened a little at her combative take, but more of long-standing concern than surprise. The Japanese girl wanted to fight everything, that wasn't a surprise.

When the bag swung back, Dana's grin imprinted in her mind, it stopped not even halfway into its arc. It swung the opposite way with a loud crack that made her friend lean out of its path. The chain holding it up groaned at its moorings, the bag swinging back and forth limply on the weakened grip.

The teen vampire hunter pulled her fist back, slipping both hands casually into her pockets. Her cheeks felt a little warmer than usual, regarding the bag with vague confusion.

"Thanks, budget cuts." She commented dryly, clearing her throat and indicating the loose mooring with her nose. She made eye contact with the teacher, indicated the bag with her head, and stepped a few feet to the next bag over. She resumed her routine easily, glancing at Dana while she waited for the girl to follow. "I don't think we want to think about a fight, Dana. Though I appreciate your extreme confidence."

"I don't trust her."

For a beat of the heart longer than any beat she was certain Casey had ever experienced in his life, Emy Vance just stared at him. A beat, and then her face eased into a coy little smile, a playful light alive in her pretty brown eyes. In this state of anticipation and slight confusion, Emy left Casey, letting him dangle in the void, nearlye very set of eyes in the class watching the interaction. One beat became two, two became three, and three threatened to develop into an eternity--before suddenly she took the pen easily as she might pluck a flower. "Emy. Emelia Vance, if you want the full name. I heard your name earlier, when you and the gang were talking. Wouldn't be much of a Wonder Woman if I couldn't hear through solid doors."

A wink, and her thumb was clicking the pen fast as a robot after a line of coke. One, two, three, four, five, six--each faster than a second, twisting the pen clockwise in her hand, then counter-clockwise; all it no more than a blue than to his eyes, or to the eyes of anyone else watching. Before Chad Johnson could even look her direction again, she stepped closer into Casey, and used his table to begin to fill out her worksheet. Jigsaws, circular saws, braces, power jointer, rasps, files, block plane, etc, etc, etc.

After little more than five minutes her entire worksheet was filled out, and she was handing the pen back to Casey. She looked up just in time to get a look from Chad Johnson was again, and to catch a few other boys from across the room looking her way. To the one with the sneer, she just blinked. To the one with the shaggy hair and the antisocial expression of fear and hope, she offered the slightest of smiles before immediately turning her attention back to the boy next to her, and the boy seated just in front of him, before Chad muttered something and began to move around the room with the kid he'd been muttering to earlier.

Friends, and all, it seemed. At least friends of convenience.

Emy motioned with a nod of her head towards the back wall of the Woodshop, Casey seemed to get the hint, she wasn't sure if his friend Danny did, or not, but they would see. And as the class began to organically break up into groups, it was good she had someone to pair with. Someone that wasn't completely fucking awkward. Danny seemed a little awkward, but Emy couldn't really blame him: seeing the monster wasn't a fun experience. Emy found herself wondering if Danny imagined what it was like to look into the mirror, and have to see it.

She wondered if any of them imagined that.

She imagined what it was like to be one of them. To be fighting "the good fight" without the supernatural abilities and senses, without the dreams and visions that came to Emy constantly. Prescott told her that she seemed to have more of the visions and dreams than other Slayers he had known, or read up on. She experienced entire memories that weren't her own. She lived entire days in her sleep, days that didn't belong to her, clips of lives of long dead young girls. When Casey gravitated with her towards the back of her class, she handed him her completed worksheet, and the pen.

"I'm done. I've worked with wood before, go figure. Copy it, you won't learn the tools in a single class period copying names down on a worksheet. It's busy work, and anyway, I'd rather you told me how everyone from your group is doing today. Last night wasn't fun. Knowing they're actively hunting you back and trying to kill you is doubley not fun."

The school was a thriving land of opportunity. Every freshman, sophomore and senior had some sort of problem, be said problem simple and superficial or deep-rooted and complex. Sometimes you can't get through a situation on your own, sometimes you need a little help. Adam was there to be the helping hand, for a price. He was not lying when he said he was on his way to photography class but who was to stop him from making a few stops on the way and exchanging packages with some students. Though even an entrepreneur in the making needed an outlet that didn't involve money.

The bullies at the school didn't accost Adam for the longest of time so for the most part, he was only given weird looks and stares when he roamed the halls but he had honestly grown accustomed to them. People didn't even truly enjoy approaching the guy all that much, most preferred to do business with him via instant messages and phone calls. They thought themselves safer that way. It was only when he finally approached the door to the photography class did he get stopped by a daring figure. It was his photography teacher, they had grown an odd kind of relationship. His teacher had always approved of Adam's works and ultimately felt sad for him as he saw in him just a troubled youth who is getting involved in the wrong practices. Adam, to his teacher's dismay, hadn't ever confronted himself on the nature of his dealings and never saw photography as more than a hobby. So while there was a warm relation between the two, it was ultimately a hesitant one.

"Adam, you're late again." Mr. Collins was straight to the point, there was rarely any way to really hustle the man. He took the craft his class taught seriously. Unfortunately, Adam did not.

"Yeah... Sorry about that man, I just got caught up at the restrooms. Just another case of a bad microwavable dinner, you know?" It was a crappy excuse and he knew it but his mind was elsewhere. In fact, a girl was on his mind... Not in the way you think, he was still fascinated by what he had seen the other night.

Mr. Collins shook his head and sighed, he put his palm over his face while muttering to himself. "Right now, the class is discussing their next big group project, what we are going to display at the end of the year. Now I know they won't take well to anything you suggest... I am aware of your social situation in this school."

Adam frowned, he generally stuck to himself and just did 'his own thing' in these classes. Whenever he tried to connect to one of the artsy people in his class, it tended to end badly. "Yeah well, maybe they just take themselves too seriously."

In that moment, Mr. Collins facial expression turned into the slyest of smirks. You could swear he had just gotten away with murder or something. "Yeah well, I think it may be you not taking yourself seriously enough." One would think that he was about to go into a stern lecture but what happened was different. "There's another big project going on, I think you might have heard of it. Several classes send out a... I guess you can call it a representative of sorts. Some volunteer. I've chosen you over others who have requested this position from me."

Adam was visibly confused by his teacher's rather mysterious reveal. Perhaps most confusing of all that he had still not bothered to reveal what even was this project that he was putting so much faith into. "...Alright and what is this project?" Might as well have gotten it over and done with rather than let Collins play his games.

"You're the new photographer for the school newspaper, you are to coordinate with the editor and writers and help them get that unique 'Avery' perspective of the events they are writing about." The asshole was clearly about to laugh, having put the person who prefers to fly under the radar in a position in which he has to work in a team of people who will all mistrust him. "I even have been given the honor of giving you your first assignment. You are to record the wood shop class making their first steps in the journey to their end-year project."

"Come on, Mister Collin-..." Adam was going to bitch and moan about being given something to do that will require a little more than just lazily hanging about school. But of course, Mister Collins was prepared for that.

"No no no, I won't hear it. Your handling of your new position will be what decides your grade this year. I want no excuses and no slacking. You will take your work seriously and you will show some responsibility." Collins adjusted his purple full-framed glasses. "I will be in contact with the editor about your work and I will judge it for myself whenever an issue gets released."

Adam turned around, having been finally defeated by his teacher and being forced into actually doing something in the school other than dealing. He had nothing to say other than a big loud sigh.

"Chin up, Adam. Instead of coming to this class, you have whole periods in which you can focus on doing your new work." As if it was any real consolation, free periods were always fun but Adam had no doubt that Collins would keep tabs on him and his work. "Oh and also, you need your camera if you want to do any photography." Adam neglected to actually bring a camera, probably forgot while daydreaming about being rescued the other night.

"Of course, Mister Collins." He spoke with a voice of a man who had just been forced to dig his own grave. Adam could be considered a bit of a pessimist at times but in that moment, he had definitely reached a peak.

There was little time to waste. Adam considered going to his party van and getting high for a whole period but he knew that Collins would probably check in with the wood shop teacher to see if he came in to get a look for the people starting off their class. After a short quest to get his camera from his locker, Adam finally made his way over to the wood shop class. He quietly tried to comfort the inner turmoil he was feeling. Simply imagining the awkwardness that would ensue from his suddenly walking into class with a fancy digital camera and essentially spying on everyone was a bit more than he could handle.

On his way to the wood shop class, he happened to come across Mr. Franklin who had already known that Adam was going to be visiting his class. Before allowing him to continue to his destination, he gave him a run-down of what Adam should do while he is in his class. It was largely like a list of instructions of what he should and shouldn't take photos of and how he should avoid distracting the students from their works. There was some comfort to be found in the business-as-usual treatment by the teacher. It meant at least one person in the room wouldn't treat Adam as an intruder. After being given a piece of paper to take notes, Adam got told to get in class and take a seat before Franklin himself would return.

As he pushed the handle to the wood shop class; several scenarios played in his head and in each one, the only differing factor was the way he introduced himself. All these fancy explanations of what he was doing there and how he'd be the one showing off their work to the school. Of course all these big intricate plans boiled down to...

"Hello, I'm Adam Avery and I'm here for the uh... School paper? I got told to come in and record the starting works of your class." He spoke very bluntly and somewhat quietly? Hoping that the ground would swallow him whole. Not enough he was an Avery, he was also the guy working close with the gossip column of the school now. Worse yet, he provided them with photographic proof of whatever they wanted to publish. Adam already had a clear view of all the people whispering around him as he walked into class and while he kept up an awkward smile, he felt like the walls were closing in on him.

He observed the classroom with a keen eye, thinking of the best place to stay out of view. He noticed his friends were all taking the same class and it brought relief to see that he wouldn’t be a total stranger in the class. Then again, he was rarely a complete stranger to anyone in the school. He considered to take a seat near Blaine but Blaine was partnering up with two people who Adam wasn’t too familiar with. While Casey and Danny were only with the one… Even if their unfamiliar person was one who could kill vampires with little to no effort. The odds were clear in this matter. Adam’s seat of choice would have to be next to Casey, Danny and the Slayer.

However as he began walking towards them, raising his hand to wave, he got stopped in his tracks by a hand being firmly placed on his chest. It was Chad Johnson. Resident meathead. They had a colorful history of hating one another but when Adam began getting stuff to people, Chad began treating Adam as his personal convenience store. At least he paid. “Hey, you told me you’d have the ‘thing’ today.” He didn’t know much in the way of subtlety.

“I said today, not now.” Adam replied solemnly before trying to push past Chad’s hand but Chad wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He stood up in front of Adam, his height towering Adam’s.

“That isn’t how it works, I’m the one paying you.” Chad clearly wasn’t above escalating the situation into a fight. Generally he wasn’t quite so aggressive, maybe he was just showing the newcomer to the wood shop class that it was ‘his’ territory. Adam was beyond understanding the workings of the mind of Chad Johnson.

Adam glanced past the hulking muscles to his friends with a look that could only be interpreted as ‘oh god, please help.’ But regardless of what story his facial expression told, he had to save face in front of the larger audience. “We agreed on fourth period, not sooner, not later. You don’t get to change our deal.”

Chad clearly had enough of Adam using unmanly means such as ‘reason’ to solve their dispute and grabbed him by the collar. “Says who?”

It looked like the self-elected alpha male of woodshop class was about to start squeezing Adam like a tube of toothpaste until he suddenly whirled around and stared over his left shoulder, as if someone had tapped him. Except, there was no one there.

A momentary look of confusion – closely followed by annoyance – crossed his face before he turned back, opening his mouth to start harping in again about whatever stupid thing he'd decided to take on the warpath that day – and then he turned again, this time to his right, looking as baffled as a dog that was playing "Hunt The Fart". This time he let go of Adam and turned around 180 degrees as if expecting someone would be standing there.

But no one was, so he just looked kind of crazy.

Once more he attempted to turn back before immediately spinning around again, fists clenched. “Cut it out!” he yelled into empty space before following up with a short yelping “Ow!” and putting his hand to the side of head as if someone had just smacked him there. “It's not funny!”

Except it really was, and more than a few others had taken notice. Particularly the three girls who sat in a little group behind him, who started tittering behind their hands. That seemed to take the wind out of his sails in a spectacular manner, for what common classroom bully could withstand the force of girls laughter? “'M just joking...” Chad muttered before slinking back towards his seat in a poor attempt to play it cool.

All through this, Danny wasn't doing anything except staring at the “Make America Great Again” poster that still hung behind the woodshop teacher's desk, chin propped up on one hand. Calm. Unaffected. If Chad had been closer, he might have heard the refrain that Danny hummed under his breath, a nonsense line from a childhood rhyme: 'Little Bunny Foo-Foo, I don't wanna see you scooping up the fieldmice and boppin' 'em on the head...'

But then again, Chad wasn't the brightest penny in the purse and probably wouldn't have thought anything of it even if he had.

Instead the Axe-scented bully turned on his heels, pointing towards Adam in a faintly accusatory manner. “I'll be seeing you later, Avery.” It probably would have sounded more threatening if he hadn't been spinning around like a whirligig a few moments prior, but you had to give him props for trying.

“Oh, jeez,” Danny's eyes moved over towards Casey, a slight half-smirk on his lips. “I do wonder whatever could have upset him so?” Even if Casey hadn't known exactly what it was, the flat and sarcastic tone would have clued him in. Casey, unlike Chad, was fully capable of putting two and two together and coming up with 'Lol'.

Without stopping to look at the vacant desk beside him, Danny hooked a skinny leg around the chair and pulled it out, an open invitation for Adam to sit there if he wanted to. “Sit your ass down, doofus.” Okay, maybe not so much of an 'invitation', per sey. “No flash photography, Peter Parker. Blaine's got one of his migraines.” He jerked his head in Emy's direction and added in a lower tone, “This is Emy Vance. She's a perfectly normal and very nice person.” A brief pause, as his eyes moved to meet hers. “Just like us.”

Casey sat in an awkward silence for what seemed like an eternity. He has fairly certain he hadn’t said anything overly awkward but the extended silence had him worried. He was relieved when she finally took the pen from him and offered a proper introduction. It was nice to finally know the name of the woman who had saved their collective asses. He noted that she at least seemed interested enough in the lot of them to listen in, at least for a moment, for their meeting in the library, as well as interest enough to remember their names. Another plus was she seemed to have some sense of humor, she’d seemed very intense when they saw her the other night so it was good to see she had a friendlier side to her as well.

“Nice to meet you, Emy.” He said watching her fiddle with the pen and then fill out the worksheet. He noticed the glare of Chad Johnson who seemed pretty peeved that he was currently talking to Emy and Casey took that second to pretend to wind up a jack in the box with one hand before flipping him the bird with the other. Normally he might feel compelled to warn her about Chad but seeing as how she could take out a couple dozen vampires like it was nothing Casey was pretty sure Chad was biting off more than he could ever chew this time.

“Well anyone willing to let me copy some busy work is true hero in my book. I’ve failed this class before, me and that saw over there are old…nemesises… nemesi, I broke it last year. Anyway, I guess we’re all okay, a little banged up but no more than usual. I’m guessing the others don’t see it this way but if it was us they were after, I guess what I’d really feel was proud, means we’re making bigger ripples in this pond than I ever thought we were capable of. It kind of feels like success, like we’ve leveled up.” Casey said as he quickly copied Emy’s worksheet.

Casey gave a nod to Blaine as he headed over to them and while he finished up his worksheet Blaine passed Emy a note. “What? I think it’s obvious we were using Emy to get these worksheets done. You know kind of like the same reason I hang around with you, so I can copy your work.” He joked in response to Blaine’s comment about them hitting on the new girl. He watched as Blaine’s pupils dilated and it was clear he was having one of his weird energy vision thing. He was curious about what he was seeing but before he even had a chance to ask Adam walked in. Since when did Adam work for the school paper? It didn’t really sound like Adam but there he was in woodshop with a camera. It was only moments after Adam walked in that Chad was trying to start something.

Casey used every ounce of his self-control to keep from laughing as Danny clear fucked with Chad. He looked like a complete moron yelling at someone who wasn’t there and looking around completely bewildered. Once the trio of girls behind them started giggling at Chad, Casey couldn’t hold his own laughter back any longer. Danny’s sarcasm about the situation only made it funnier. “Man, I love it when you Carrie people like that.” It was good see the situation solved peacefully as well as to have the class laughing at Chad. “How’s your head?” He asked Blaine once the room had settled down some.

"Probably with good reason," Dana conceded with a shrug. Like a kitten, she batted at the punching bag that Victoria had cold clocked and felt the creaking of weak chains, an inch from snapping loose; old moorings in an old gym creaked unsteadily. The Japanese girl's eyebrows raised up, matching a grin that looked faintly aroused at the prospect of being on the other end of one of those punches. "But you are a grouch. Very grumpy. You don't trust many things."

Dana stood on the other end of Victoria's new punching bag, assuming the same taunting position she had before. At this point, she was wiling down the minutes until lunch more than anything; she already had heard or pieced together many of her best friend's reasons for disliking this Slayer. Some of them even made a lot of sense to Dana. But the damage was already done, in her opinion - she was in their town, knew their faces and who they were, and she clearly wasn't going away as long as there were vampires around or this librarian to gas her up on her own heaven-sent modus operandi.

They'd have to learn to live with her, at the very least, if not work together as it seemed Casey and the librarian wanted them to do. Dana was fine with another girl on the roster, even if she knew why Victoria wasn't. There were billions of girls in the world. Any of them that weren't vampires were a-okay with Dana - as long as they were tough.

Honestly, it was like no one else understood that she wouldn't even be able to get off on the fight unless the Slayer was tough...

"Gotta see if someone's a weirdo first," Dana continued with a shrug, climbing up atop the punching bag and straddling its sides, so that her weight slowed down the swings that Victoria's blows threw it into. She'd need to put more effort into her punches if she wanted to budge a fourth-generation warrior like Dana. "Before deciding if they're evil. Or psycho. Fighting weirdos is the best way to determine their...their...weirdness."

Her stomach growled, cementing her course of action in her head.

"She's eating lunch with me. So we can see for ourselves. Don't worry. You worry waaaaaaay too much. I'll do all the talking."

Dana beamed.

"Charm offensive? That's the word? Yes?"

Her face twisted in mild confusion, her eyes blinked at Blaine. Her tone reflected that confusion, slight as it sounded, "Why wouldn't they have a chance?" Her mind continued the stream of thought: Do I have resting bitchface? I didn't think I had bitchface...maybe it's the smell of sawdust? Or--the thoughts were slammed shut, interrupted by a flash that went off in the back of her mind, like a warm 'pop' of emotion and memory. None of which belonged to her. All she saw were the words 'Sunnydale' and 'Hellmouth'; burning and raw in her mind's eye within the flurry of so many blurs of memories and emotions that she knew belonged to Slayer's past. Her eyes fluttered under long, dark, eyelashes, her head tilting just-so away from Blaine as she felt him jerk his hand away.

A motion so sudden, it opened her eyes, it drew her attention. In time to see the change in his eyes, in his face. It was a pretense of social behavior on Blaine's part, she knew that as soon as he approached. His feet dragged just slightly, his posture was slightly slouched, shoulders forward. He didn't introduce himself, his hand placement safe but didn't read as entirely natural to her--all the things you learned when your "uncle" was a CIA field officer, and the two of you were waiting for your parents in a mall filled with people to read, to be taught how to read.

Nothing Uncle Wes taught her prepared her for any of this supernatural shit, though.

By the time Blaine offered his weak ass excuse, Emy Vance's eyes were bright, wide, and staring. Her eyes darted to the front of the class, to find their fearless academic leader still absorbed in anything and everything but his own class. God bless public schools. Without a single second's further hesitation, she took up the placed note and opened it with a single hand. A quick scan, and she handed it to Casey. "Please tell me I don't have to be concerned about your friend, there." Her eyes spoke far more than her words to Casey as she handed him the note, in the long beats of the heart in which she locked eyes with him; concern, a general level of unease, and a hint of the savage defenseness that resembled a spark of what Casey would have seen in her eyes the night before.

Before her eyes were drawn to the spectacle of Adam, and the jerk from earlier. Something about Adam was familiar to her. Nothing about the boy, himself, but something deeper. The very sense of him, something in regards to his spirit. Something that spoke to all the emotions and memories from Slayer's past and gone that haunted her mind and heart and soul so often. It wasn't easy to stand there and watch Chad Johnson give the kid the hooligan act, like Chad was some street tough and Adam was his dealer bitch.

This time instead of the warm 'pop' of memory and emotion from lives she never lived, all Emy felt was anger. She felt the muscles in her neck tighten, she felt her arms cross over her body, her posture straighten as she began to size up Chad Johnson in a way she wouldn't have bothered to even when he was all over her. What did she care if Chad was all over her? If he touched her, she'd break him. There was no need for concern on her part. She was never in danger. Nothing bad would happen to her. But if Chad hurt Adam? For a reason she was past imagining in that moment, it bothered her. Like Chad was assaulting one of her own, like he was after a member of her own blood.

It's not my blood, though.

"...as if it's not confusing enough being a teenage girl..." A muttering under her breath, as her neck popped with a strong jerk to the left, her arms uncrossing and her body beginning to stir into actual motion. One foot, then--then her eyes were blinking again, and for the second time in the very same class period, Emy Vance swore she was witnessing something beyond the normal nature of the universe. Unless Casper was fucking with Chad Johnson. Her eyes danced; from face to face to face in the classroom as she searched for the cause. Someone capable of something like that could be dangerous, something she'd have to deal with if they used it to hurt someone else, or--

--oh. Her eyes locked on Danny, where they stayed a beat too long after being introduced to Adam. Then they flickered faster than flame, and her lips curled into a smile. "Yeah. Normal. Totally..........when's lunch? Please tell me the food is better than the dinner theater?" She said, her head slightly nodding in Chad's direction.

A grin crept onto Adam's face as he witnessed Chad flail like a mad man at someone who wasn't there. His eyes glanced once quickly towards Danny who seemed to be staring off into the distance. As his eyes looked once more at Chad, he could have sworn the man's face turned into a dark shade of red from the blushing. Even Mister Alpha couldn't hide his embarrassment but it didn't change the fact that he wanted to teach Adam a lesson of some sort. Whatever that lesson was. Adam didn't care much for it, he could improvise his way out of it when time came... Just not in front of the whole woodshop class.

Adam just shrugged as a response to Chad for the moment before approaching his friend. Danny was being his usual 'friendly' self. Adam couldn't be bothered to truly protest to it although one thing did draw his attention and that is the mention of Blaine's 'migraines'. He turned his head to stare at Blaine, tilting his head to get a better look at him in hopes that perhaps he could get a better view at what was afflicting the magician. It wasn't obvious enough for Adam to make any assessments, then again he wasn't a doctor. He finally took a seat at the chair offered to him by Danny and slid in closer to him and the other two.

He turned his head to Emy, staring at her for a bit. It almost seemed like he was about space out but he quickly shook his head and yawned. "Sorry, didn't get much sleep, don't mind me. Nice to meet you Emy, I'm Adam... Or Peter Parker now thanks to my choice of class." He voiced a loud sigh of regret. "These three stooges been treating you well? They sure love getting into trouble." He scratched his forehead for a bit before chuckling. "I guess they ain't much different than me in that way." He acted surprisingly casual considering he had a rather nasty run-in with Chad Johnson just a minute ago but one could guess that he was used to such things by now.

"Let me know if you ever need anything, you get a freebie for saving our asses last night." Adam spoke sincerely and quite bluntly, generally there was a bit of a haggle involved when it came to doing business with the guy. Something seemed to strike him though whenever he spoke to Emy, it wasn't immediately obvious but there was a certain sense of familiarity in the way he behaved. Truth told, he didn't actually notice it himself.

"I am not a grouch. I trust when it's reasonable."

The protest came with a halfhearted glare as Dana took up a position opposite her, and Victoria resumed her assault upon the bag. Not nearly so hard, focusing more on speed than force, but she could still see the teacher regarding the previous bag with consternation. It was just out of the corner of her eyes, but she watched him push experimentally on it and listen to the creaking with a growing frown. The sort of frown that spoke of memos and emails to be exchanged later about poor maintenance, confused replies, and eventually a repaired punching bag. That would probably be the end of it.

With any luck, at least. She didn't really want to have to pay to fix it.

She didn't really agree with Dana's weirdness test, but nothing was going to dissuade her. The girl thrived on fights and competition. The prospects this Slayer represented excited her, probably to no end. The bag rocked a little harder. The teacher was moving off, so she didn't mind hitting a little harder again. She paused for a moment, though, when she saw Dana start to climb up in. Eyebrow raising the whole time she observed the Japanese girl climb and situate herself atop the bag, the effect clear when a test punch barely moved it.

Her eyebrows arched a few degrees more, and she concluded that this was a challenge. Her next few punches were a little harder, but still didn't move the bag much. It swayed to and fro a tad, but not nearly as much as she wanted. So she drew in a deep breath, settled her stance, and cut loose. The first punch sent it swaying away, the second further, and the third further still. It only took a few blows to settle into the pattern, trying to see if she could shake her friend off. Much like a rodeo bull.

The mention of having lunch with the Slayer made her eyes narrow yet again, and glare upwards.

"Yes, that is the word. When did you decide on this plan?"