Red, White, and Booooooring (Open)

[Matthew Craft]

So apparently he has to watch TV for homework...who knew? Not that it’s exciting homework, by any means. It’s political stuff that Matthew just really doesn’t have the brain for.

The homework, as assigned by Mr. Worthington, was to watch a big presidential debate between that McCain guy with the huge cheek-jowl things and Obama, the other dude. Matthew really has no idea which one is which, and he doesn’t really care. It’s not like he’s of voting age yet, so the presidential election is usually something he ignores.

But it’s homework, and that leads to the reason why he’s planted on the sofa, watching CNN’s coverage before the debate starts. Notebook in hand, Matthew jots down the time and the channel and all the other important factors that he thinks Mr. Worthington would want him to consider.

When he’d mentioned his homework to Toni, she’d rambled off some long rant about how President Bush is an idiot and that all Republicans are evil and how Hillary Clinton is frightening with her green pantsuits and how Obama is totally the man and that’s who she’s going to vote for. Really, people like his sister shouldn’t be allowed to vote. Things might end badly. But, as Toni had told him, not as badly as things were now.

And that may or may not be true, Matthew doesn’t follow politics, nor does he even want to. But here he is watching CNN, munching on some semi-stale chips he found in a kitchen cupboard and taking notes on his little pad as a guy named Cooper or something blabs on about the upcoming debate.

Sigh.

[Megan Drukker]

One of the things Megan's managed to pick up in her time here - beyond where the tea is, how easy it is to wind up most students by suggesting certain shifts in the dynamic of a relationship, and why not to use 'gay' as a derogatory adjective quite as freely as comes naturally to the Welsh - is that there's a hell of a lot more to learn than she expected. Not so much the academic - the Institute is, of course, more than a little different to the 'University of Life' - but the little things which still flag her up as a stranger in a strange land.

So, she's tried to take an interest. To bone up, as it were, on all things Yank. It's early days still - she's had plenty of glaring errors, the latest being querying why all politicians weren't automatically democrats "because, like, this is a democracy an' all, innit? So whazza alternative t'bein' a democrat if y'a politician an' not a ragin' lunatic what wants t'take over n'all?" (something on which the answer had been of little or no help, because she's still bloody confused... And why only two parties? America's a whole lot bigger'n Wales, and there's at least five she can think of there....) - but she's determined to stick it out and make a go of it because this is her tribe now and she's seen what happens when you don't make that sort of effort - plenty of gaujos had come and gone and thought them glamorous and exotic and quickly realized their mistake.

Part of that, then, is forcing herself to sit through the insane circus of televisual events surrounding this "presidential election whazzathingy", and today that means feigning interest in a debate. Her request for a television in her room having been denied for the time being, that means the lounge and so, notebook in one hand, mug of tea in the other and "I <3 NY" cap firmly on her head, Megan heads down, offering a short prayer that there's no one else in there, because that might mean having to discuss things and cobble together some sort of opinion...

... Fate, though, isn't playing dice the way she wants right now. Because not only is the room occupied, but it's by someone she's if not exactly avoiding then trying her best not to run into until a sufficient amount of time has passed to make the whole "So, you saw me kinda-naked in the swimming pool and all... and your girlfriend saw you seeing me..." situation something other than embarrassing (so, under the usual laws of teenage-hood, some time after she turns really old - like, 30 or something).

Maybe Matty (isn't that his name? Matty? M-something. Ending in Y, definitely.... though if she remembers right she's not meant to call him that but his full name... which she also can't remember. Damn) won't notice her. Maybe he's watching this because he's genuinely interested in it and not because it'll help with Mr. Josh's Husband's interrogations in Politics class.

Maybe Pigs'll fly.

... we live in hope, right?

Trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible (which is damn hard when your exposed skin's trying to help by matching the pattern and texture of the furniture you're sinking into, random attempts at camouflage being the latest trick in her ever-expanding repetoire) she drops into a seat, legs curled up, book open on her knees.

[Jason "Twitch" Daniels]

This morning had been eye opening Jason thinks as he walks around the little room, though its now his little room isn't it. The young man hadn't been expecting such an easy acceptance into the school. He had been expecting to have to go through some rigorous testing thing or something equally outrageous. The very last thing Jason had expected was to be greeted at the gates by two students. That in and of itself led to an interesting question: what was his position here? He has already gone through high school and holds a college degree in Humanities. He can't stay here as a student, he knows that much for sure, but he is unable to figure out where he can belong here. He hates the idea that he might be imposing on these kind people who were like him.

For the better part of the day he had lazed around his room. Lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, staring out the little window at the grounds that laid themselves out for him to gaze out at, unpacking his stuff (though that took little more than ten minutes), and pacing around the room...he did a lot of pacing this day. Jason had a whole lot on his mind. He wanted to know where he fit into this little Institute and how many people where here and what their powers would be and if what they could do to help him. It was due to all these unanswerable questions racing around his mind that he was content to pace around a room. He had gotten over the view in less than a minute and his unadorned room held his interest for less time. The reason he hadn't simply walked out and explored on his own yet was that he didn't want to impose. He wasn't sure who knew that he was here or how they would react and he'd rather not be surprising people who were like him. The fact that they could potentially put a whole through him on accident, or on purpose, didn't help his reclusive attitude.

Finally his stomach gives Jason a reason to leave this small prison and attempt to find the kitchens. Barefooted he heads out of his room and down a hallway and down another hallway. Intensely interested in the layout and decoration for a moment before becoming bored by it and wanting to see what is around the next corner Jason makes his way through the vast mansion. Eventually he wound up at the bottom of the stairs and is just wondering which direction to go next when he hears a television on somewhere. Curious as to what the people here watch for fun he follows his ears and finds himself in a cozy room with a huge TV and some very comfortable furniture. When he realizes that they are watching political debates he can't help but laugh.

He didn't know what to expect. He had never known any mutants and wasn't even sure that they were interested in non-mutant anything, let alone politics. He supposed that it made since now that it was known that mutants were real that they would care about who the next leader was. After all that person would be the one to make the next generation of mutant laws, and that meant they had a vested interest in him...right? Maybe he was just looking too much into this. The fact that there were other people in the room didn't even occur to Jason until he calmed himself down and looked over at the couch to see a girl who...matched the couch? That couldn't be right. His dying laughter cut off and he simply stares at this odd person.

She really does match the material, he thinks with a mix of awe and shock. I wonder how that works. Is she really trying to do that or does it just happen? I wonder what else she can do? I wonder who she is? In a flash Jason realizes that he'd been staring at the bare legs of this unknown woman for much longer than was appropriate and in a flash his face turns red and his hands shoot up to meet each other, fingers dancing around each other in an effort to relieve the nervous energy that has shot itself through his body. His eyes find the face of the young woman and he gives her a very stiff nervous smile. "Oh, um...hello. I didn't realize that you were sitting there." Not the smoothest words, but then again he didn't get his nickname for keeping his cool. "Oh, I don't mean to intirupt your show," he says with a nervous glance at the screen to his right. "I was looking for the kitchen and got lost and ended up here and then I saw the tv and then that you match your seat and I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Jason Daniels, but everyone calls me Twitch. Its a pleasure to meet you." During Jason's rambling his face had gone from a tinge of pink to a full on red and his eyes had taken to darting from the face of the girl to look at the other occupant of the room to looking at the corner of the room all in very quick succession.

Overall, he doubts that was the best first impression he's ever given...but then again he's given much worse ones so who knows what these people thought.

[Matthew Craft]

The gods must be cursing him. It isn’t bad enough that he abhors politics and is yet forced to watch a presidential debate, but now there’s actually a reasonable distraction to keep him from learning anything and keeping his grade above a B-. Wonderful.

But at least his newly appeared company is half decent company. He could have had that Zip girl in there yapping on about something like the bloody hummingbird she was. Megan is definitely a step up from Zip.

Matthew tries to focus on something that seems relatively important — who’s Wolf Blitzer? — but he loses it as his attention is drawn to Megan as she slips into one of the chairs next to his sofa.

“Hey.” Might as well say hello. It was the least he could do, right? No need to dwell on the awkwardness they’d both encountered in the pool. “Chip?” He angles the crumpled Lays bag in her direction, but then pauses. “Wait...chips are fries in British, aren’t they? So what do you call chips?” Trying to be funny really isn’t his thing, but Matthew stills gets a score of laughter from his little remark.

He glances over his shoulder at the door, inwardly groaning at the growing number of distractions. Some new kid is standing there all nervous-like, and that means that Matthew and Megan get to play the role of the “Hey! Welcome to the ‘Stute! What powers have you got?” folk. That’s it, I give up. I’m officially failing this class.

“I'm Jason Daniels, but everyone calls me Twitch. Its a pleasure to meet you." The guy says after a long few seconds of dragging silence and then rapid rambling. Matthew notes that he’s not look at him, but at the camouflaged Megan. (Is it weird that oddly coloured people don’t bother him anymore? Or is that a side effect of being a mutant?)

“’Sup?” Not really his best opening line. “I’m Matthew.” He’s done so many of these types of introductions that he’s turning into an automatic talking robot. Offering a trained, slightly fake smile, Matthew waves him into the room.

[Megan Drukker]

< Hey
... yep, so much for going unnoticed.

"Oh... erm, shw'mae... Y'a'rite?" she replies, polite smile firmly in place, eyes only darting up from her book for a moment. Pretending to be paying attention to whoever this is talking about whatever's happening in the wonderful world of American politics seems like a good plan, even if her 'serious notes' don't really hold up to close scrutiny - random scribbles not having much relation to what's going on on screen.

< Chip?
"You get chips in bags 'ere?" She reaches out for one, raising an eyebrow mock sceptically, before the part of her brain which is slowly picking up on the lingo kicks in, and...

... gack, that was a stupid thing to say, wasn't it? Because American chips aren't chips like you'd get from the chippie.

< Wait...chips are fries in British, aren’t they?
At least someone's on the ball. Nodding, Megan takes some of the proferred 'chips' and munches.

< So what do you call chips?
"Crisps" she responds through a mouthfull of them, taking another handful (though they're not actually that great... kinda stale tasting. Is that what American crisps are like? She'll have to get Mam to send some proper ones over in the next package from home so she can educate these damn Yanks... crisps, and proper tea, and biscuits - by which she means neither cookies nor those weird scone-like things but proper biccies, for dunking into proper tea.... Her stomach grumbles, and she grabs some more of the stale-ish 'chips') and continuing, accentuating the crunch deliberately. "'cos they're, well, they're crisp, inn'they? "

The fascinating conversation about snack foods is interrupted by a burst of laughter from elsewhere in the room, and Meg instinctively flicks her head round, preparing her best death-glare - "T'in't that funny..." - which reverts quickly to half-amused, half-weary on noticing his eyeline. "Up a bit, pet." Leaning forward slightly, so her face is nearer where he's looking, she waves and points upwards, a small smirk starting to form...

... though amusing as she usually finds the effect a girl can have reducing a boy to a slathering idiot (lord knows, she's played with it more than once since landing here - where's Hector gotten to anyway...) it's probably less to do with that and more, as she remembers when her hand crosses into her field of vision, to do with the whole 'now attractively clad in finest upholstery fabric' effect she has going on. She frowns, and flicks her wrist a few times as if shaking out pins and needles, trying to focus the way Josh has suggested in their few training sessions thus far on normal skin tone and the absence of weave, before shrugging and deciding to roll with it. This is a school for mutants, after all; it's not like she has to worry about looking 'normal'.

< Oh, um...hello. I didn't realize that you were sitting there
"Wouldn' be very good camo-whazzit if y'did, now, would it?" she grins.

< Oh, I don't mean to interrupt your show. I was looking for the kitchen and got lost and ended up here and then I saw the tv and then that you match your seat and I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Jason Daniels, but everyone calls me Twitch. Its a pleasure to meet you.
... wow. And she thought she talked a mile a minute. Nervous people are a whole different matter - for one thing, they never fail to make her edgier than she should be (something to do with this empathic-doodad... already she can feel herself bristling) - and she wonders for a minute whether she should direct him towards the staff offices or something because if he's new and looking to settle in then god alone knows what he'd be able to get out of her that's any way useful beyond where the tea is and how falling out of the first floor windows isn't the best idea (those experiments having continued apace, and with more mixed success than her first wall-walking experience).

< ’Sup? I’m Matthew
At least Matty-Matt-Matthew (she hasn't quite decided which one she's rolling with yet) seems to be, yet again, on the ball.

"An' I'm Megan." Patting the seat next to her and turning the Lays bag towards him, she flashes Jason her most welcoming grin - "Y'wan' what we enlighten-ated ones 'cross y'bori lon pani call crisps? We don' bite." (The smile flickers for a moment while she darts her tongue forward to check that, no, she hasn't got fangs right now. Good) "Honest."

[Jason "Twitch" Daniels]

"Wouldn' be very good camo-whazzit if y'did, now, would it?"

A camo-whazzit? Jason thinks to himself. Oh, I get it. She camoflauges, like with the sofa. I wonder what kind of accent that is.

"’Sup? I’m Matthew"

Jason's head whips toward the other young man in the room, for a moment he had totally forgotten that there was another occupant, distracted by the fabric skinned girl and all. "Oh, hello Matthew," he quickly spits out, "Nice to meet you. As for whats up I was wandering around upstairs and I realized I was hungry so I tried to find the kitchen and got lost and ended up here, but I guess I already said that didn't I..." Jason's voice dies off and he looses the beginnings of the smile that was forming to a 'bout of bashfulness. His eyes start to dart around the room, looking everywhere but at its two occupants. He's already started to become bored with the layout and the presidential candidates were all sorts of boring. The idea that anyone would voluteer to sit down, or stand around as they sometimes do at rallies, and listen to someone drone on and on and on about something was absolutely appalling to Jason. Speeches had to be the absolute worst punishment that anyone had ever come up with in Jason's mind.

"An' I'm Megan. Y'wan' what we enlighten-ated ones 'cross y'bori lon pani call crisps? We don' bite. Honest." The odd words (they were words and not just random jumblings of sound right?) brought the twenty-three year old back from his little reprieve. All the nervous-ness seemed to vanish out of him when he heard the young woman, no her name was Megan, speak. His cheeks regained their normal shade of white and he gave the girl an innocent smile while internally trying to figure out what the hell she had just said.

For a moment he stood trying to discipher the words, which must have looked odd to the Matthew and Megan since it was the first time that Twitch has stopped moving since he entered the room. Then he remembered that she had offered him both a seat and chips and decided to assume that her words were something related to those gestures. A real smile dawned on his lips. These people were really kind. Here he was interupting their...debate, and they didn't seem to mind in the slightest and even had offered him the chance to join them. It had been for too long since people who knew that there was something wrong with him been so kind so quickly to him. It all took all his self control, though that really isn't saying much, not to run up and give them a big hug. Instead he settled for an almost stupidly large and genuinely happy smile.

Jason walks around the room and takes a few lays out of the bag before plopping down beside the camo-whazzit. "Ah thank you, you're a real life saver you know. I haven't had anything to eat since I got here this morning, I'm starving." With no real grace he began to toss the chips into his mouth. That is he literally tossed them. With his right hand he'd pick up a chip and then with a flick of his wrist it would fly upward and then land about in his mouth where it would be quickly taken care of in a few swift bites. It might be an odd tradition or habit or whatever you want to call it but it helped Jason to keep focused and was a rather amusing pass time in his humble opinion.

When he had finished his little handful he quickly rubbed his hands together turning whatever little crumbs had been left into a powder and then wiping them off on his jeans. He looks up at the TV and for a moment tries to pay attention to what they're saying. He gets as far as "I believe" and then gives up the idea, they were talking far too slowly if they wanted his attention. Instead he turns his gaze on Matthew and Megan intermidedly and asks in his most sincere voice, "How can you two stand this stuff? He takes forever to say anything. I don't understand how all those people can sit there and listen to someone rant about anything for hours. It seems like it'd get real dull real fast in my opinion." By now the jitters of meeting knew people had all but vanished and his voice has slowed down to a slightly more normal speed.

[Matthew Craft]

"Crisps ‘cos they're, well, they're crisp, inn'they?” Matthew smiles.

“That they are, though these ones could stand to be a bit crispier in my opinion. But I guess they’ll do, because it was either the old chips or the green n’fuzzy Oreos, and I’m not in any dire need of a penicillin shot dose now.” He takes a moment to try and wrench a stuck piece of chip out from between his teeth. Not his most attractive moment, what with his finger seemingly half-way down his throat. Fortunately Megan seems more preoccupied with the new kid (way to ogle, dude), who’s hardly much of a kid now that he’s gotten a closer look at him.

"Ah thank you, you're a real life saver you know. I haven't had anything to eat since I got here this morning, I'm starving."

“Oh you can never go hungry in the wonderful world of Xavier’s...so long and you don’t mind eating spoiled food. But believe me, you get used to it.” Okay, that was a little cruel, to scare the guy into thinking that the Institute fed them only rotten food. “If you’re looking for something a little more filling, might I suggest the fridge? We’ve got a enough yogurt to feed an army in there.”

Trying to catch the last of the pre-debate show, Matthew manages to jot down a note or two before Twitch speaks up again. "How can you two stand this stuff? He takes forever to say anything. I don't understand how all those people can sit there and listen to someone rant about anything for hours. It seems like it'd get real dull real fast in my opinion." There’s a firm nod of a agreement from Matthew.

“Oh yeah. I wouldn’t be here if I could avoid it, but I’m supposed to watch it for a class.” He turns to Megan curiously. “’S’at why you’re here? For Mr. Worthington’s class?” Of course he’s being a little rude to the newcomer, so he look back at Twitch. “So what brings you to the wonderful world of Mutant Academy? Blow up your family home? Set fire to your neighbour’s car? Upset your teacher because you ate a bird in the middle of class?” As funny as they sound, they’re more or less legitimate questions, considering he knows the bird and burning car incidents happened to a couple of his classmates.

[Megan Drukker]

That's a neat trick Jason has going on there; makes her feel kinda guilty for just shovelling the crips back. Megan tries first to be slightly more demure - taking them one at a time and nibbling discreetly while she listens to the debate - and then gets slightly more adventurous, mimicing his technique. Or trying to, at least. And mostly failing.

Back to the debate, then... which by now she has completely lost track of. She wonders if Mr. Josh's Husband will accept 'playing with your food is more interesting than it' as a valid analysis of the current political climate.

< ...so long and you don’t mind eating spoiled food. But believe me, you get used to it.
"Yeech, ych a fi... I'll 'ave t'bump gettin' fy bola" - she prods her stomach, half-remembering for once, at least, that not everyone here is fluent in the strange mix of Wenglish and Romany her brood converse in - "upgradified up on m'list of things what I should be masterin', huh?" Megan wrinkles her nose and grimaces.

< If you’re looking for something a little more filling, might I suggest the fridge? We’ve got a enough yogurt to feed an army in there
"Jus' don' touch the tea" she adds, a little too quickly seeing as it's neither her fridge nor really her tea, so what right does she have to be staking a claim to it? Her grin is perhaps a split second too late to truly carry her jokey tone when she continues. "Seriously, cariad, y'don' wanna stumble onta this chai when she's no' had her meski yn y bore. S'not pretty."

As Jason relaxes - well, stops darting about and wringing his hands and what not - it gets easier to stop blending into things, so by the time she's stopped babbling about the importance of her daily brew she's pretty much back to normal colouration.

< ’S’at why you’re here? For Mr. Worthington’s class?
Half nodding, half shrugging, she yawns before replying. "Sorta... Kinda livin' in fear of 'im askin' me somit about all this"

Matty's opening salvo strikes her as a little odd; it'll be interesting to see where Twitch goes with that.

[Jason "Twitch" Daniels]

Jason watches out of the corner of his eye as Megan flips the chips up and tries to catch them in her mouth. Needless to say its not as accurate as when he does it, but it makes him feel a little less self-conscious about it. Playing with one's food isn't always the most accepted thing.

"Oh you can never go hungry in the wonderful world of Xavier’s...so long and you don’t mind eating spoiled food. But believe me, you get used to it."

An uncertain smile appears on Jason's face as he looks over a t Matthew. He's not really sure if he's joking or not, but figures either way its a nice warning...sort of. The words of the camo-girl are once again lost to Jason. He vaguely wonders if Matt has any clue as to what the girl is talking about for a moment before his attention is drawn back to the discussion of food.

"If you’re looking for something a little more filling, might I suggest the fridge? We’ve got a enough yogurt to feed an army in there."

Before he can put say anything the sharp words of Megan cut in and he freezes for a moment. Shocked at both the severity of her words and the fact that he actually understood them. "Jus' don' touch the tea...Seriously, cariad, y'don' wanna stumble onta this chai when she's no' had her meski yn y bore. S'not pretty."

A short chuckle escapes Jason's lips. "Don't worry Megan. I'm not much of a tea drinker really. A glass of milk and some water are all I require. Anything with any kind of sugar or caffeine doesn't really mix well with my...metabolism."

“Oh yeah. I wouldn’t be here if I could avoid it, but I’m supposed to watch it for a class.” The nod from Matt brightens Jason's spirits after he sort of just started speaking over the speechs. At least they weren't genuinely interested in it, but that brought something new to Jason's attention. He had known that there were students here at the Institute, but he had suspected they studied things more...well he supposes he just didn't expect a poli-sci class. "What kind of class is this for? I mean I expected the classes here to be more...mutanty I guess. You guys take a normal class schedule?" As soon as the words left his mouth he realized it must have sounded really odd. Just because they were mutants didn't mean that they didn't need to know the same things to survive in this world, he should know that by now.

“So what brings you to the wonderful world of Mutant Academy? Blow up your family home? Set fire to your neighbour’s car? Upset your teacher because you ate a bird in the middle of class?”

A real, though short lived, laugh emerges from Jason at the preposterous suggestions from the big guy. "No, I couldn't do anything nearly that destructive...well I guess I could potentially." He pauses for a moment as he collects his thoughts, "I did almost kill a nurse on my first time to the hospital, but that was years ago and I didn't really know why back then. And I'm not in any classes anymore. I got my college degree a few months back, and I'm proud to say I made it through my schooling with minimal problems. No, I came to the Institute to try and learn how to control this." To accent his words he puts his arm out directly in front of him and stares at it. He doesn't have any sort of control over how his arm moves, but for the most part he can start and stop the flow of energy through his body.

He starts to hyperventilate and then a moment later his arm becomes a blur as it darts off to the right, apparently a jolt found a nice exit point in his tricept, and then starts to spazz out. For a second or so his arm bounces around in front of him almost too fast see before he begins to control his breath and grabs his arm with his other hand. A few beads of sweat have formed on his forehead and it takes him a moment to catch his breath. "I don't have much control at the moment if you couldn't tell. Its pretty much an on off switch."

As his breathing returns to a normal rate he shakes out his arm closer to a normal human level and gives a self-satisfied smile. He had started and stopped his little internal generator all on his own and done no harm, at least he doesn't think he did. "It wouldn't be much of a problem really if it was that alone. I could just claim to have siezures or something and get on with my life. It doesn't stop there however. I have trouble focusing and get bored really really easily. I'm always wired, almost literally really, and when my heart starts to really get going I've been known to pass out." Convinced that his arm isn't going to start spazzing again he releases it and gives a quick look at Matt and Megan. For a fraction of a second he considers telling them that he took the cure but it didn't work, but he's not sure how the cure is treated around here and decides not to mention it. "I'm just looking for some help gaining some control," he finishes rather lamely.

[Matthew Craft]

Admittedly, Matthew probably has no better idea of what Megan is saying than Jason, but he’s better at hiding his confusion. He sits back and watches, smiling to himself, at the exchange between them. Amused, he almost misses the comment directed at him.

"Sorta... Kinda livin' in fear of 'im askin' me somit about all this.” At least that was reasonably comprehendable.

“I know the feeling. I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason why I’m sitting here. Too bad they don’t make Coles Notes for speeches and stuff.” Instead of trying to toss the chips into his mouth, Matthew opts to just shove the entire handful in and pick through the pieces that fall onto his lap.

"No, I couldn't do anything nearly that destructive...well I guess I could potentially. I did almost kill a nurse on my first time to the hospital.” He’d laugh if the new guy didn’t sound so solemn.

“The majority of us are pretty hazardous to the health of others when our powers pop up for the first time. It’s nothin’ to really worry about.” Thumbs up for added encouragement.

And then Jason’s arm is spazzing out and zooming all over the place and Matthew pulls his bottle of pop to his chest, afraid the flailing limb is going to knock it over.

"I'm just looking for some help gaining some control,"

“Yeah, I can see the logic behind that.” Confident that there aren’t going to be any more flapping limbs, Matthew sets the bottle back on the table. “They should be able to help you here. They helped me a ton. I mean, since I’ve been here I’ve stopped randomly nuking my food every time I sneeze, and believe me, I’m grateful for that. I like my KD hot, but not, you know, glowing.”

[Freddy Hunter]

"I mean, since I’ve been here I’ve stopped randomly nuking my food every time I sneeze, and believe me, I’m grateful for that. I like my KD hot, but not, you know, glowing.”

"You can nuke things!?"

The cry comes from the direction of the kitchen, in the doorway of which Freddy stands clad in black, shorts and a T-shirt of no particularly interesting design, bare foot and holding a half liter bottle of Coke in one hand and a large bag of Mars minnies levitating a few inches above the other hand's open palm. His concentration fails and the bag starts slowly to sink in the air, falling snugly into his hand as he dissolves the ineffective force field.

Walking over to the couch on which the guy talking about glowing food is, he jumps into an empty spot next to him, having seen the chips, and designated them as the first course on today's rich menu of unhealthy potatoes and chocolate bars.

"Can you show me? It sounds very cool," he says, turning to look at the other two people for the first time. He smiles at each of them brightly, and then states to the room in general, "I'm Thomas, by the way. But you can call me Freddy, seeing as everybody else does."

He grabs a handful of the chips and smashes them into his mouth, munching on them eagerly and ignoring the slightly stale taste. pouring a few good sips of Coke over it, he decides he's done with the main course, and opens the bag of Mars candy bars.

"If you guys want some, feel free to grab 'em. So," he looks at the guy still standing and the girl on the couch, "what do you guys do?"

He reaches forwards and grabs the remote, starting to turn the channels until he finds VH1, deciding music would be a nice background. Leaning back into the comfortable couch, Freddy starts looking at the nuclear guy, trying to find traces of Uranium or something on him, or at least some hint towards his powers, and then to the standing guy, craning his head to take a better look.

"Hey, sit down, man, I'll bust my neck trying to look at you," he says gesturing to the couch with the girl on it. The boy does not stop for but a second to consider that they might have been in the middle of a complex discussion. He just smiles and grabs a candy bar, gets rid of the wrapper, and shoves it in his mouth, waiting for some replies.

[Megan Drukker]

< A glass of milk and some water are all I require

Reassured that her morning ritual remains unthreatened, Megan flashes another grin and tugs the brim of her “I <3 NY” cap down in thanks before returning her attention to her ‘notes’… not that there’s really much point trying to keep up with the debate now.

< Blow up your family home? Set fire to your neighbour’s car?
< …. I did almost kill a nurse on my first time to the hospital
< The majority of us are pretty hazardous to the health of others when our powers pop up for the first time

As the tone of the conversation turns to ‘gee, aren’t we all really, really dangerous?’, Megan can’t help but feel an odd mixture of outclassed and mildly terrified (though whether that’s down to her genuinely fearing the others – which one side of her mind claims is totally rational, and the other thinks she should get the hell over already – or picking up on some subliminal tension, or some mix of both, is another issue entirely… and probably one worth asking Josh about sooner or later, because it’d be nice to be know what’s her and what isn’t, right?), pulling her legs up onto the sofa as if the floor’s also a dangerous mutant – which almost wouldn’t surprise her, although ‘turning into carpet’ is a pretty crap power, all things being equal. Jason’s spasming doesn’t do much to relax her – if there’s an Institute medal for ‘widest eyes and furthest jaw drop’ then she’s probably well up in the running after this performance – and not for the first time she wonders if she, for all of her *quirks*, is still just a little too ‘normal’ for this place…

< You can nuke things?!

… well, she’d tried. Not her fault any attempt to learn something from the debate had gone joobly. Maybe she could ask to borrow Matty’s notes later (then again, maybe not; she doubted things with his girlfriend would have cooled down yet, and while the mousy little thing wouldn’t stand a chance against her should things head south she wasn’t ready to be expelled from this school just yet). At least this latest interloper had the good grace to bring chocolate to the party.

< Can you show me? It sounds very cool

That, though, is a whole lot less reassuring. She shoots a nervous glance at Matty.

”Y’in’t plannin’ on demonstratin’, are y’, cariad? ‘aven’t got the cockroach act down yet” – it was cockroaches who could survive nuclear blasts, wasn’t it? – ”An’ dw’i ddim yn meddwl bod flailin’ ‘ll ‘elp much – no offence” – her attention turns to Jason for a moment, her smile slightly more apologetic, before darting back to the incredible human microwave, waiting for a response, then – with something nearer offence – over to Freddy as he flicks the channel over. ”Dordi, y’didlo ratvali, y’got goolis the size’ve povels… in’t enough t’kill us all y’gotta inflict y’r music on us first like y’own the bloody dinilo's dikkaméngro’n all??”

… not that her display of offence extends quite to refusing the offer to tuck in, of course, because it’s reassuring to find something that’s the same both sides of the pond.

[Matthew Craft]

"You can nuke things!?"
Uh oh. At some point along the way his sister had mentioned this kid to him. Kind of ADHD with a love of all things that could potentially get you killed.

“Well, I’m forever setting off Geiger counters, so I’d have to say yes, I can nuke things.” This is getting ridiculous. Really! How is a poor little academically disinclined guy like him supposed to make a grade when it’s apparently meet-and-greet time in the TV room?

The couch bounces a little when the kid plops down next to him and starts rooting through the chip bag. "Can you show me? It sounds very cool," Okay, now he has to laugh.

“Really? Even if it runs the risk of literally microwaving you from the inside out? Cause really, I’m not totally opposed to showing you, I’m just saying that being cooked alive has got to be a really unpleasant way to die.” There’s a little tingle in the back of his head that’s telling him that the kid is probably going to think that’s the coolest thing he’s ever heard. “I mean, if you’ve got an apple sitting around here somewhere, I’m pretty sure I can make it explode, but you’re going to need to sign a waiver first. I can’t have you’re mom suing me after I’ve accidentally turned your arm into a cooked chunk of radioactive meat.”

Okay, yeah, that’s just Matthew being scary, but all in good humour, right?

”Y’in’t plannin’ on demonstratin’, are y’, cariad? ‘aven’t got the cockroach act down yet.” He shrugs.

“It can’t hurt my reputation, can it? I mean, everyone knows I’m the ‘radioactive guy’, but really, that’s a name I’ve mainly earned just by telling people that. Not very many people have ever seen me actually do anything radioactive-like. At some point they’re going to start thinking that I made that up just to look cool and dangerous. But if I decide to show off for the new guy here and I accidentally nuke you guys into momma’s Sunday hams, if nothing else I’ll at least reaffirm my status as being the ‘radioactive guy.’” See? Perfect, evil, nuclear maniac logic.

"I'm Thomas, by the way. But you can call me Freddy, seeing as everybody else does." Okay, he’s gotta ask.

“Why does everyone call you Freddy? I don’t think it’s any kind of short form for—hey!” Who said the kid could have the remote? ADHD kids don’t get remotes!

Thankfully Matthew can outreach him by about fifteen centimeters, so at least he can grab the clicker before the kid tries to snatch it again. “Sorry, but the dull and dreary channel is homework.” He promptly switches it back to CNN after Megan shares his distaste for the music. “And we were here first. So ha!” Sticking the tongue out was horribly infantile, but either he gets a B grade, or he gets slaughtered by his momma. And no one wants to be slaughtered by his momma.

[Freddy Hunter]

> ”Dordi, y’didlo ratvali, y’got goolis the size’ve povels… in’t enough t’kill us all y’gotta inflict y’r music on us first like y’own the bloody dinilo's dikkaméngro’n all??”

Freddy's face is a blank mask. He waits a few seconds, and, in lieu of a translation, a subtitle (his thoughts switch for a moment how a mutant power to put up subtitles would be lame), or any kind of explanation, he looks at the girl with the most innocent face he can make.

"Er...what? Sorry, I didn't understand that." he said, picking his words carefully. He would probably add something about gibberish, about Chinese, or something like that, but he was a) not stupid and b) trying to make some friends.

>“Really? Even if it runs the risk of literally microwaving you from the inside out? Cause really, I’m not totally opposed to showing you, I’m just saying that being cooked alive has got to be a really unpleasant way to die. I mean, if you’ve got an apple sitting around here somewhere, I’m pretty sure I can make it explode, but you’re going to need to sign a waiver first. I can’t have you’re mom suing me after I’ve accidentally turned your arm into a cooked chunk of radioactive meat.”

Freddy's eyes widen. "Seriously? You'll blow up an apple if I bring you one?" it is clear that the excitement about being around so many mutants overcomes what little sense he otherwise has floating in his head.

He opens his mouth to respond to the question of his nickname, but then the remote is snatched away and the channel changes. Back to the stupid politics. He looks at Matt with much less awe in his eyes. "Oh, never mind the apple. It's not cool if someone dull enough to watch debates for homework does it," he grumbles, settling into the couch and looking around for something better to do.

"They call me Freddy 'cause of my middle name, by the way. "Tommy" just doesn't have a nice sound to it, and Thomas is way too formal." he informs the not-so-cool-anymore Matt, sipping more of his Coke.

He eyes the remote as Matt sticks his tongue out at him. "So what if you were here first? The more entertaining channels should get a priority. This is boring, and you know it," he points accusingly at the innocent TV, and then points a finger at the remote. He imagines it first, moving downwards, and then lets it appear. A tiny force field the size of a button moves down on the remote, and passes through it. "Damn..." he mutters and tries again. Again, he fails, but the third time the force field connects with the button just hard enough to make it push down and flip the channel to one of the programs that always play movies.

"There, that should satisfy everyone. I don't know why you guys don't like rock music. " he shrugs, crossing his legs in a lotus position and offering Matt the bag of candies, and then moving it to offer the girl one as well.