Atticus watched the scene unfold before him with caution, as tensions rose even more. Another young man had entered, speaking light-heartedly with an English accent. He seemed like he had little idea what was really going on, but he seemed to register the gravity of the situation in far quicker order than the vapid woman in the red dress. Still, he seemed a little too at ease, overconfident, even. Probably a veteran who had made it through the war without a scratch, by some miracle. Having grown up entirely off the radar, Atticus had been completely passed over by the draft. In fact, if it weren't for his birth records, he wouldn't officially "exist" at all. Regardless, he had spent his whole life fighting, without the benefit of combat training or an officer to look out for him. He had been completely on his own since he was six. Well, not completely. But even with Katrina looking out for him, he had never really felt a sense of belonging anywhere. His hopes of finding that here were quickly deflating. All this tension was no way to start off any kind of relationship.
Atticus noticed something odd when the blond girl had stepped forward to speak. Rather than focusing on her, the man with the claws was eyeing him. Atticus met his gaze, feeling the unspoken connection, before the bigger man broke it by tearing his eyes away. Eventually, he answered her question, calling himself "Wolverine." He supposed it was fitting, considering the claws and the spiky hair. There was no way his mother had given him that name, though. Atticus used a moniker of sorts himself, to maintain anonymity among the criminal elements he had found himself associating with as of late. "I call myself Talon." he found himself saying. He supposed that would do until he got to know the others better; he didn't feel comfortable revealing his actual name yet. "Surely the rest of you have names as well."
Before anyone could answer, a pair of men, the younger one walking with a cane, the older appearing no more than 30, came up the stairs. Atticus recognized the one with the cane as Charles Xavier, the man who had told him about this institute the night he had broken into his house, intent on stealing from him. Charles asked "Wolverine" to follow him so they could speak privately, and the other man began giving a speech, waving his hand and causing coins to float on their own. He introduced himself as Erik, and confessed to lack Charles's telepathic abilities. Erik guessed that all of them were here because society had rejected them for being different. Atticus had never truly been part of society in the first place, but he felt the words nonetheless. He could see that even the immaculate blond and the charming newcomer were moved by the speech, and a short youth he hadn't noticed before came forward and spoke, demanding to know whether they would be receiving basic needs, such as shelter and food. Atticus remembered what it was like to want for those basic necessities, and his heart went out to the boy. His thoughts were arrested by the blond's condescending words as she scoffed at the new boy, proclaiming that she thought everyone was beyond such things.
Another new girl emerged from the lower level, and seemed to side with the boy, announcing that this building had little room to spare for those who needed shelter. She seemed as though she had been here for awhile, moving behind the bar and making herself a cup of coffee as if she owned the place, and she lit up a cigarette.
"That's a good point. I can't exactly go back to where I was living before this; I sort of left my previous employers in a hurry when Xavier told me about this gig. And they're not exactly the most forgiving people. I mean, I guess I can find a place nearby, but not all of us are members of the social elite." He shot a significant glance at the woman who had introduced herself as Kimberly, and a less harsh one at the blond. "And what about this poor kid? He looks like he's been living on the streets." He addressed the boy who had spoken up about this concern in the first place, looking around for support. "I mean, help with our... Differences is great, but some of us need help with a lot more than that."