2011-11-21: Lunch Time For Twits


Ahmed_icon.jpg Evelyn_icon.jpg Quenton_icon.jpg Sage_icon.jpg

Summary: It seems the cafeteria is serving angst sandwiches and hateorade for lunch.

Date: November 21, 2011

Log Title: Lunch Time for Twits

Rating: PG-13

Xavier Mansion - Cafeteria

There is a large cafeteria for the students. Blue and white tiled floor lines the floor and there are large windows that let in a lot of light. Six sturdy blue plastic chairs sit around each white table. There are a few snack and soda machines along with a few microwaves and refrigerators sit along one wall.

The cafeteria is large, yes, but compared to most, it's not that big. At one of the tables, sits everyone's favorite twit, Quenton, fist against his cheek, elbow to the table, an angry scowl on his face. He's dressed up in his Paragons uniform, his own customized so that it really just looks like his typical outfit, but with a banded collar at the shirt, and a big green X in the middle of his chest, as well as another small green X in a circle at the breast of his jacket. Instead of wearing sneakers, he also has boots on, and gloves cover his hands. His fingers drum on the table, while in front of him sits his advesary: a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich.

Being on a specalized sort of diet means that Sage can't eat most of the food in the cafeteria. Living most of your life eating organic foods and stuff that is grown or slaughtered on the farm left Sage not really able to handle the preservatives in food. As he walks in with his plastic container of salad he spots Quenton and walks over towards his roommate. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

Speaking of specialised diets Evelyn is in the cafeteria to enjoy the exciting world of prepackaged sushi from one of the Westchester stores if the packet is anything to go by. "Hey Sage and long time no see Quenton, how's life treating you?" she says cheerfully, tail swishing from side to side. "Don't suppose you know if New York is always this cold do you? I mean this time of year."

"Yeah, whatever," Quenton mutters, though he does sweep his eyes over Sage, a moment, as if checking to see if any of the terror before has lingered to this day. He wets his lips, before turning his eyes back to that evil sandwhich. "It's getting warmer every year," he comments to Evelyn. "There should be snow on the ground, but there isn't." He presses his lips. "And what do you care, Catgirl?"

"Thank you." Sage says as he sits next to Quenton, it's obvious that he's still spooked about what occured but he's trying to focus on eatting his lunch, which looks like just a lot of vegetables. "I'm not really sure Evelyn, this is my first time in this country this time of year. I'm actually curiuos as to why everyone seems to be getting ready to celebrate some holiday." He says looking down at his food as he eats.

Evelyn beams at Quenton. "Why do I care about the weather? Because I need to figure out how long I have before it's so cold I /must/ sort out proper clothing. It's taking me forever to learn to sew," she answers cheerfully. "Or if you're asking why do I care how life has been treating you then it's a combination of general consideration for others and feline curiosity. Take your pick which is more important." Without asking permission she pulls up one of the unclaimed chairs. "As for what Thanksgiving is about who knows. My mum made of point of going through all the big American holidays when we moved over, but I'd just found a magazine about shoe shops in the area and I kinda tuned her out."

The beaming makes Quenton just scowl at perky Evelyn. "Feline curiosity my ass," he mutters, before glancing over Sage again. "We're okay, buddy," he says, after a moment of silence. "Just a stupid fucking joke the teachers played on us." He doesn't elaborate on what the hell he's talking about." I should get a fork to eat this with." A peanut butter and jelly sandwhich? Evelyn's liberty taking makes the grumpy grump grumble grumpily.

"I don't think it was, how did we get from our room down there?" Sage asks as that's one of the big things bothering him, well the entire thing is a big thing bothering him. "How long have you been in America Evelyn?" He asks as he eats another fork full of food. Sage then looks at Quenton's lunch and then gives him a puzzled look over needing a fork. "From what I gather the holiday involves a lot of food."

It's a typical entrance on a typical day in the cafeteria by another student… only this one is atypical of most of the more human-looking people at the table. Instead he looks like he's slumming off the set of Cats! Silvery-grey hair with spots in it, cat-style ears that somehow have earbuds caught in them on the side of his head, the new face mouths along to the words of a song, showing off slight but obvious fangs. Ahmed seats himself a table away from the group, and picks up the first of three burgers on his plate, proceeding to deconstruct it and take away all the things he doesn't want.

Evelyn nods. "Well it is an American holiday," she points out. "Even the fast food comes in portions which dwarf the portions you get back home. I'd only been in the country a few weeks before I came to Xaviers. So not much longer than you Sage." She begins eating her sushi with delicate little bites. "Got taken from your room thanks to a joke from the teachers? That doesn't sound like something they'd do, although I suppose they could telepathically have you sleep walk somewhere. Just doesn't seem like thier style though." The new boys entrance gets a little wave and a swish of her tail. "Viva the feline revolution!"

Red eyes following Evelyn's gaze towards the new entrant, Quenton mutters, "By the end of this fucking school year, I'm going to really hate cats. I can tell." And then his eyes slide back to Evelyn. "Who's your boyfriend, Meow Mix?" Sage's concerns return the musclebound jerk's attention on him. "I don't put it past the former leader of the Hellfire Club to pull a stunt like that." Still, the whole thing left a bad taste his mouth. "I don't know why or how that happened to us, but I'm gonna find out why." Because punching things is a really good detective skill to have.

Sage can't help but stare at Ahmed as he walks in. He's never seen a cat person, yes there's Evelyn but she's either cat or person, not cat-person. "Can the dunlalaps do that?" He asks more to himself but it's definately outloud. "I haven't eatten any fast food, unless you mean like Rabbits, they can be pretty fast when they're just left to run about. My Mum makes a good rabbit stew." He says before shrugging. "I don't know. If you need help finding out, I can try. I just would rather not wake up in a graveyard again with the dead coming out of graves. It was terrifying."

Ahmed is being stared at… which of course he notices after several moments, and the headphones come out, allowing the tinny sound of drum 'n bass techno to fill the air until he pauses his iThing in one of his hoodie pocket. Finishing building his burger… which is an obscene amount of condiments squashed between three hamburger patties, he takes a bite, and then swallows before saying, "What… you've never seen a meatburger before?"
"So let me get this straight.. You're suggesting one of the teachers would make you wake up in a graveyard in the middle of the night? And not for Halloween?" Evelyn double checks, giving Quenton an overly dramatic mock wounded pout. "And then resolutely not go over exactly why they did it and what you were meant to learn from the experience? Because that /really/ doesn't sound likely. Seems more like a new student having an accident and doing something to you both. Or one of the fabled supervillian attacks." She shrugs. "Fast food is the stuff with all the chemicals and things in. Almost always premade, like a burger place."

"Can't the dinnerlips do whatever they want?" wonders the scowling red eyed teenager to his long haired room mate. His eyes follow Sage's, and he shrugs his shoulders at the boy addressing them. "No, sorry, we just never saw a Thundercat before. Now that we know that they're real, we can all feel safer from the clutches of… whoever the villain of that was." Quenton didn't care much for that show. "And this little graveyard at the middle of the night with zombies was a danger room session. Point is, none of us knew how we got there, not even Doctor Blueballs."

Sage gives Quenton a confused look. "Dinner lips? They are dunlalaps, they gives us or abilities, our gifts." He says like he's explaining it for the first time. "I can't eat that stuff Evelyn, those chemicals in food make me terrifly sick." He says remebering the stomach pains he felt when he first came here. "We don't know what it was Evelyn except for horribly teffifying. What's a Thunder Cat?" He asks before shaking his head at Ahmed. "I'm sorry, it's just I never saw someone who was so changed by the dunlalaps, did you meet one?"

Another bite is taken from the burger-burger… then another… and another… before he finally sets it down and wipes at his cheeks with a napkin, followed by an obvious licking of his teeth. Once done, Ahmed takes a breath, "Mumm-Ra, Thundercats are a cartoon show, which I've got on my iThing, I have no idea what a dunlapap is, but they sound like a faerie with the way you talk, and to be honest… if the teachers here have that much of a sense of humor, then this place might be cooler than I thought." Pausing once, he looks around and the group again, smiling but not showing teeth, "So… let's cover the basics. My name's Ahmed… I'm not dead, nor am I a terrorist, but I am Canadian, no I don't like Scott Pilgrim, and I'm happy to shoot down any more snide comments you've got." He pauses for a breath, "And you are?"

"Preaching to the choir Sage," Evelyn assures in regard to an inability to eat certain things. "Doctor Blueballs? Who exactly is that? If you're really serious about tracking down how you ended up there you should talk to Theo. He might be able to gain access to the security camera footage and then you'll have a better idea of what to investigate." She glances back at Ahmed, raises an eyebrow, and swishes her tail. "Why would we think you're dead? The name's Evelyn, international catgirl of mystery. A please to meet you."

"You mean you'll suicide bomb any snide comments we've got," replies Quenton, almost automatically. "Oh, you're Canadian. Well, that explains it," he says, lifting his hand to his brow and saluting the cat mutant thing. "Careful, Evelyn," he says, as if he's on a roll, but really just turning everything Ahme mentioned into ammo, "you should be silent. Or he'll kill you." Shifting, he wonders, "What brings you to our shores, Lionel? Other then the obvious?"

Sage just blinks at Ahmed. "Well, the dunlalps, they are a fae type of creature that give us our powers, our gifts. I figured since you had such an impressive gift maybe you met one of them." He isn't joking either. "And I don't know why you would be dead or a terrorist, nor who Scott Pilgrim is. Does he have something to do with the upcoming holiday and the eating and the Pilgrims?" He sighs and then shakes his head. "I feel so lost with all this American stuff." He looks at Quenton seems confused. "Why would he kill her, and what's wrong with being Canadian?" He says before looking back to Ahmed. "I'm Sage, Sage Windsong Chipmonk Holbrook the Fourth. Pleasure to meet you."

Ahmed finishes off the burger-burger, and then nods to Sage, "Actually… most of it was directed at Captain Conversation over there… American Pop culture is kind of like a disease… once you get it, you can never get rid of it. I'd say be thankful. British television is much cooler." Smiling, he picks up his tray, walks over, and sits down between Sage and Evelyn, facing Quenton, "Oh since your economy is in the tank, your political system is in chaos, and your moral fibre is collapsing like a house of cards, we thought we'd invade, pillage your resources, burn your capitol, and make off with all your women and your gays. How about you, cupcake?" All of this seems to be shot right at Quenton, instead of the others, a deceptive smile on the young man's face.

"Some British television is," Evelyn corrects, moving along to make room. "But there really hasn't been a lot of good stuff made in years. Too many talent shows and god-aweful reality tv." She completely ignores suggestions that she be quiet. She may not even know how… "Scott Pilgrim isn't anything to do with Thanksgiving Sage, he makes graphic novels. They're fictional books with drawings and words."

"The Canadian branch of the Thundercats sent their best agent. Unfortunately, it's a teenager with raging hormones. See? He said he's here to take our women and our gays. One thing you can say about O' Canada, they don't discriminate." Quenton leans back in his chair, peanut butter and jelly sandwhich still untouched. It is still his greatest adversary. "Or maybe he's down to yiff." The red eyed boy watches the furrier invidiual with sort of a grin on his face. "Though, admittedly, you know more about the American political situation than I do. Maybe you're actually in love with Uncle Sam and here to do our own country proud."

Sage closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before exhailing. "Don't the two of you have anything better to do than insult each other?" Exasperation coming off his voice as he finally realized the two are having some sort of pissing contest. "I think I'm going to go find a quiter place like the attic to go eat lunch, at least the plants aren't horrid to each other." He says. After still being on edge and unnerved from the night before, he doesn't want to be around any sort of hostility. "Evelyn, I'm sorry. You have a wonderful afternoon, I just need to finish my lunch in peace."

A deep breath is exhaled as Ahmed replies to Sage, "No… I'm sorry. Guys like him bring out the worst in me… I don't like just sitting there and letting someone toss insults around all the time. If I agree to behave, will you stay?" The words coming a bit more politely as he then looks at Quenton and adds, "I can't help other people's behavior, but I can help my own… and I'd like to think that we're all decent human beings at this table. Wouldn't you agree?"

"No worries Sage," Evelyn assures, glancing between Quenton and Ahmed. "I feel a little like I should start taking bets, only I can't quite decide what odds to give to each side." She tail swishes and resumes eating her sushi. "Or I suppose I should follow in my mothers footsteps and act as a diplomat. But where's the ferrero rocher when you need it?"

Quenton glances after Sage with some concern, the battle of the wits that he was losing conveniently forgotten as he pushes to his feet in an attempt to go after his room mate. One out of two friends in the whole school, and Quenton didn't want to lose the long haired boy. But Ahmed's words halt him, and he remembers just exactly why he's an asshole. "Sure, Rapunzel," he murmurs, making it look as if he was tugging his clothes together, that this was the reason he stood, before dropping back down. "Have fun in your tower." To Ahmed's call for agreement, he just shakes his head. "None of us are human, and I'm not decent."

Sage looks over at Ahmed, turning. "What do you mean 'guys like him'? Do you know anything about Quenton?" He asks curiously. "Maybe it would do better to learn who someone is before flinging insults back at them." His hair seems to pull itself back on it's own, one dread wrapping around the rest to tie it back. "I believe that everyone is a decent human being, if they're at this table or not." Though Quenton gets a bit of a smile from Sage and he goes and sits back down next to his roommate, pushing his salad towards him. "Have some if you like, I made the dressing myself out of some oil, red wine vinegar and some herbs I found upstairs."

Putting his hands up in mock surrender and leaning back from the table, Sage's little diatribe gets a fresh smile from the feline student, "Touche… I am well and truly bested." Settling back over his food, Ahmed starts picking through it all for bits and bobs to consume, half the meal remaining untouched so far, "I once made a wicked vinaigrette… chili oil, apple cider vinegar, and then some mint and cilantro. Didn't sit well on a salad, but it was awesome with some lamb kebab." But as he speaks, Sage's animate hair has his absolute visual attention.

There's a long silence, before Quenton clears his throat and shifts slightly, glancing towards Sage. "Do uh… do you have a fork?" he wonders, a bit sheepishly. "I'll… trade you my sandwhich or something." The talk of cooking causes the red eyed mutant to close his eyes. Oh, has he missed cooking. He doesn't say that aloud, though.

"I wasn't trying to best anyone." Sage says sounding a bit confused. "Apple cider vinegar is the best on fried fish. My Mum usually made some great fish and chips after my Dad and brothers and I would go fishing." He was never the greatest at fishing but he had to do it and even though he wasn't good he still had fun. "Didn't you just get a fork for you sandwich? You can use that." He says to Quenton. "Also I'll pass on your sandwich, as much as I like peanut butter and jam sandwiches I doubt that is full organic and I'd likely get ill."

There's a bit of a chuckle as Ahmed just sighs and shakes his head, "Wow… I think there's just a disconnect in my sense of humor too. Allright." Finishing off what's on his tray, most of the bread products and a few of the veggies are left, but the rest is all gone, "Lunch is over… now I need to find a place to nap… excuse me." With that he stands up and walks his tray over to dump it, coming back for his iThing. Once there, his skin takes on a glossy sheen and then erupts with a clear gel-like fluid that pushes out in all directions, like the Blob had suddenly appeared to swallow him. He moves himself to all fours as the gel spreads further out from his head and his back, around his hands…
…until it forms paws and a tail. The head and Ahmed's head inside move to look at the others, his eyes glowing blue as suddenly the figure resolves itself into what looks like a giant cat! A snow leopard the size of a Siberian tiger even. The spots and rosettes however are a metallic blue, and the eyes nothing but the same cerulean glow. Fur sprouts out and settles easily on it's body, and then it shakes… head to tail, and gives out a hugely fanged yawn.

Evelyn laughs. "The last time I cooked anything it was a receipe one of my dads guides taught me," she says wistfully. "You probably don't want to know the specifics while you're eating, but it was definately not something which you'll be seeing in any popular cookbooks. Unless… Wow…. I really hope it doesn't look that freaky when I shift into animal form. If you're looking for a good place to nap the roof is great in Summer, but I guess it'll be too cold… Thinking about it I suppose you're probably cold adapted so that might not matter in the slightest…"

Quenton sort of just stares at Ahmed as he transforms. Then crinkles his nose at the smell. He just watches him, before scratching his scalp and glancing over to Sage. "I never grabbed it," he admits, but falls silent as the talk about cooking continues. A hand moves to his cheek, and he scratches it viciously, enough to eventually break the superhuman resilient skin and leave little bloody lines.

"Evelyn back home we butchered all ou…" Sage's voice trails off as he just stares at Ahmed, almost gaping, in surprise and awe and confusion. "Curiouser and Curiouser." He says quoting Alice in Wonderland. He looks back at Quenton and then grabs at his hand to pull it away from his skin. "Quenton, you're cutting yourself. Is everything alright?"

Ahmed sniffs at the air, rumbles softly once as his long and luxuriant tail swishes back and forth. The head of the great beast RUBS against Sage's side for a moment, the fur feeling soft and warm, the scent coming off it like corn chips, a clean feline musk. A cold nose pushes on his hand as the big beast then glides under the table somehow, rubbing past one of Evelyn's legs absently, and begins padding off to the door, paws up to bat down the handle before sliding out.

Evelyn winks at Sage. "Your own insects?" she teases. "Because we are talking proper traditional hunter-gatherer food. And… yeah is your head suppose to do that? Because I can't imagine it's healthy if every time you scratch you rip bits of your face off. I mean what if you get an itch someplace delicate?"

That hand is rather hard to budge. Exceedingly so, but Sage gets Quenton's attention, and he recoils from his room mate, hovering into the air a few feet and suddenly staring at his gloved hands, before glancing between the two. "It doesn't fucking atter," he growls. "Don't do that again," he mutters to Sage, as if his friend did something wrong, landing on the ground a few feet away. "Don't ever do that.'

Sage jumps as the cat rubs against him and Sage almost freezes as he's not sure what to do. Then Quenton's anger snaps him out of it and he looks at his friend in a bit of shock and almost hurt. "I think, I think I have to go to class now." He says sounding jarred. He doesn't even have time to say good bye again to Evelyn or bring the left over lunch with him before he hurries out of the cafeteria.

Evelyn slowly picks up another piece of her sushi and watches the chaos unfurl. "Are you sure?" she asks cautiously. "Because you didn't react like it was the sort of thing we should ignore… Look if you don't want to talk about whatever it is you need to talk about then just say the word. But now everyone else has gone if you need someone to talk at who isn't going to judge you either way…."

"I don't need to talk about shit," Quenton shoots back, while he lowers himself to the ground, fists clenched. "Not to you, not to anyone else in this hellhole." Still, the guilt of hurting his friend's feelings causes him to close his eyes, exhalin shallowly. "He'll get over it," he says aloud, but he doesn't believe it.

"Actually I'd be willing to bet Sage will get over it," Evelyn says calmly. "He hasn't asked to trade room-mates yet has he? I'd suspect he'll be relentlessly understanding about the whole thing, probably more worried about your cutting yourself than he is upset." She frowns. "Why do you keep asking about a fork? Weird New York way of eating your sandwich or I guess you could be too strong to pick it up without flattening the bread and making the filling fall out?"

"Okay. You got me. Congratulations, detective," Quenton replies, pressing his lips tightly together while he glances towards Sage's abandoned lunch. There's an awkward pause a moment, before he says quietly, "Can… you uh… pack that? For him, I mean, and not for me. I'll… take it to our room."

Evelyn nods. "Want a deep dark secret of mine in trade? So you'll feel better about my figuring out you can't pick up a sandwich," she offers, putting her chopsticks down and neatly putting the things away. "Is that why you were so cranky? Because it was embarrasing trying to eat with an audience? If so then I'm sorry for joining you without asking permission."

"No. You don't have to tell me any of your secrets. That's fine." Quenton watches Evelyn put the things away, before rubbing at his nape and lifting his red eyes. "Not exactly. I can't explain it to you, without sounding stupid, and even if you're one of them try me people, I'd rather not try you at all."

Evelyn laughs. "As opposed to acting like that without any explaination which doesn't come across as stupid at all," she points out mock innocently. "When you phrase it like that it sounds kind of sleazy, but I do like talking to people and if you feel like talking you can. If you don't then I'm not going to push the issue because it'll give you an excuse to not talk to anyone. For what it's worth I'll refrain from mentioning the need for cutlery to anyone. So you don't have to worry about it, but of course you're going to flat out deny caring in the slighest. Right?"

"I don't give a damn. I'm sleazy. I'm a big asshole," Quenton grunts. "And I don't like talking to people, so…" He's quiet for a long time, before just holding his hand out for the food. "And I don't care in the slightest." Way to prove her exactly right, jackass. "Why do you care so much, anyway?"

"Do you know how hard it is to keep a circle of friends when you move out the country you live in after at most six months?" Evelyn wonders, checking the food is securely sealed before handing it over. "You either stop caring about anyone or try and care enough to make friendships which'll last even after you're gone. And lets be honest I talk far too much to stop caring entirely."

"No, I don't," Quenton replies, though he eyes Evelyn suspiciously, balancing the plastic container flat in his hand. "And yeah, you do talk too much." There's a long silence that follows, before he shrugs his shoulders, grunting. "Sage is good to have you for a friend, but let's… clarify something, alright? I'm not here to make friends. You're not the first person I told this, won't be the last."

Evelyn shakes her head and smiles. "So you say don't want to make friends," she notes. "Fair enough. That doesn't mean you have to try make enemies out of everyone you meet. But for the record the way you overtly try push everyone away makes it seem like you /do/ want to make friends but there's something stopping you. If you didn't give a shit you wouldn't bother wasting your time on anyone. To quote Shakespeare 'The Lady Doth Protest too Much'. Except you know without the lady part."

"You… doth protest too much," Quenton grunts, shaking his head. "And if people would rather I punch them, I'm fine with that, too. What makes you think I got a problem with shoving one of you losers into a garbage can, or locker?" He continues to hold the container flat, though, and sort of delicately tucks it under his arm.

Evelyn giggles. "We don't have lockers? And there aren't all that many garbage cans either," she points out. "Sorry, you're trying to be all intimidating while daintily holding a plastic salad container. It's a bit like if the hold up scene in Pulp Fiction, only replacing the guns with puppies."

"I'm only holding onto it to apologize to Sage for," Quenton retorts grumpily, but he doesn't make a physical show of strength at the moment. He wouldn't risk the salad. "And I'm not… daintily holding it."

Evelyn resumes eating the last bits of her sushi. "I stand corrected," she offers unconvincingly. "Don't get me wrong. I'm sure you could throw me over the building if you really felt like it. You're built like the proverbial brick shit house and you've got superpowers. I just don't think you'd do it without any kind of reason."

"And why do you think that?" wonders Quenton, furrowing his brow, hesitantly looking between the cat girl and the door. "I've… killed people in the past. What makes you so sure I had reason to?" His eyes settle back onto Evelyn, speaking through gritted teeth and a rigid jaw.

"Well given the person running the school can read minds I very much doubt they'd have enrolled you without checking that sort of thing out," Evelyn points out matter-of-factly. "And you take exceptional care to avoid actually touching people. You drive people off with words and when Sage touched you… well you freaked out. Maybe because you didn't want to mistakenly crush him? Honestly it's rarely the loud and overt assholes who you should be scared of, it's usually people who keep it quiet and snap or who are calculating enough to cover up how fucked up they are." She tilts her head. "For the record they way you say you killed people seems more a guilty admission than a you're next on the list."

"Trust me," Quenton replies, glancing towards the door anxiously. "You should be afraid of me. There are telepaths here who can keep me in check, but I can… I can't control my strength. I can accidentally jerk and break someone's bones, or neck. And when…" He trails off. "It doesn't fucking matter. People should stay the hell away from me. Hell, I don't… even know why the hell I'm fucking in this school. I should leave."

Evelyn finishes off the last bit of her sushi. "Quenton, there's a difference between being afraid of what you can do and being afraid of you. At a guess you're here because you want to learn how to /not/ crush everything you touch? Just like how I'm here to learn to be in animal form without totally forgetting who I am and spending all my time up a tree chasing squirrels. At least if you're here everyone can know you might injure them, but you leave and then you'll have to spend twice as long worrying about everyone because they /won't/ know what you can do."

"Well. Guess what, Fluffy? I'm not gonna stick around or whatever during graduation. I'm not gonna be around people. I'm gonna try to find Heather's parents and get into Crystalworld." Quenton releases a breath, a shaky breath. "I'm just gonna learn how to control my powers first, so that I can make it there without going gung ho and killing a kid or something. But in here? I don't care who I hurt."

Evelyn scratches her head. "Uhm I don't know her very well, but I'm pretty sure it said in the news that Heathers parents had mind control powers. As in making you believe you are somewhere you're not rather than actually transporting you to another world," she corrects. "Which means whatever crytalworld is… it's probably not a real place. Also given they're supervillians odds are better than average that you'll find yourself breaking into a prison to find them and then getting fucked over royally. If getting caught in the act of breaking into a prison for people with mind control powers isn't in itself going to be fucking you over enough for your liking."

"I dunno. I saw the paintings. It sounded like they were just trapped in some place." Quenton shrugs. "If that's not a good option, I'll fly to Antartica then, or something. Live off baby seals. I hear clubbing them is good eating." He keeps the plastic container under his arm, tucked safely away.

"Actually these days they tend to hunt the majority of seals around the Artic," Evelyn notes, giggling. "Although weirdly there is a country in Africa which hunts them. I can't imagine raw seal would taste very good though, plus with all the fat you'd likely drop dead from a heart attack. You saw the paintings? Which paintings? You should probably check with Heather before contacting her folks. See if they really can transport you to someplace else if that's what you want from life."

"You're smart," Quenton approves without sounding approving. "We'll see what happens. I still have got another year before I go do what I gotta do," he adds, glancing around the cafeteria a moment. "I still am not understanding why it matters to you."

Evelyn shrugs. "Good question. Alas a lady never tells," she teases. "Wondering about it will give you something to entertain yourself with when you're in self imposed exile. If you /do/ plan on flying off to a remote part of the world I have plenty of survival books you could borrow, although I guess you might need someone to turn the pages for you. I even have one for extremely cold enviroments so you're in luck."

"Yeah, well. You're not a lady. You're a cat girl," Quenton replies, shrugging his broad shoulders. "We'll see," the mutant murmurs, before shifting on his feet, holding the salad under his arm like it's the Book of Eli. "Anyway, save your concern." He rubs his eyes, before his hand drops to his jacket pockets.

Evelyn sticks her tongue out. "Why? It's not like it's worth keeping hold of," she points out. "And for the record I'm trained in all the appropriate social graces a lady needs. Just because I have a tail doesn't make me any less of a lady. You should maybe spend time thinking up better cat related insults! Chairman Meow, Felix, Mittens and Whiskers to name but a few suggestions."

"I'll keep those in mind," Quenton replies, scratching behind his ear with his free hand, which slips from his pocket again right after. "And those are pretty gender-biased insults. Chairman Meow? Not Chairwoman?" he mutters, irritably. "And yeah, you sure seem like you're trained in social grace."

"Part of it is knowing your audience," Evelyn teases. "I know the correct order of cutlery to use for a twelve course formal banquet and I could greet you appropriately in seven languages, then thank you for being a wonderful host. I also know most of the important bits of etiquette regarding chopstick placement, like in Japan it's bad form to stick your chopsticks vertically in rice or to cross them when you put them down." She pauses, making a point of tucking her disposable chopsticks back into the wrapper. "Chairwoman doesn't flow as well, besides China never had a female leader so it'd be wrong as well as clunky to say."

"I used to cook," Quenton mumbles. And then all is forgotten, as he clears his throat and just gives the other mutant a nod. "I can't do anything like that. The only thing I'm good at now is punching crap and heavy lifting." He wets his lips briefly. "Uh… speaking of Japan," he then mutters, "and this is sensitive information. What I'm about to ask doesn't leave this room, or I'll… kill another cat somewhere," he grunts. "Is there any like… good Japanese resteraunts that aure authentic here in New York that you know about?"

Evelyn glances around conspiratorially. "You did? Cool," she stage whispers. "Truth be told, and this doesn't leave this room or else I shall leave dead mice in your shoes, but I can barely eat normal food. Even fish doesn't sit very well. Not something a Margay naturally eats much of. What I can do however is text my mom, who /does/ know that kind of thing as her job involves a ton of taking important people out for meals as part of off the record diplomatic discussion, and I'll forward the info on. You do check your school issue phone or email every now and again right? If not I can slip you the message under your door."

"Dead mice in my…" Quenton trails off, before he just shakes his head. "You are fucking weird, you know that?" But maybe even Evelyn could be a friend. The thought is beginning to scare Q, though. He's getting too close to people. He clears his throat, a hand shooting into his jacket and pulling from it his standard issue cell phone. "This thing I can't crush because of my powers. So you can text me."

"What? It's not like I can do anything else to harm you," Evelyn points out with a grin. "Tell everyone you used to cook? Oh the scandel. Maybe that you like authentic Japanese food? Again big fucking deal." She eyes Quenton. "Hell the only reason you could want to keep it a secret is for a date. Who's the lucky girl? Oh and make sure you buy purple lilacs for her."

"The authentic Japanese food isn't for me," Quenton grunts, before he falls silent at the query of his classmate. His eyes flick to her face, and he is quiet for a long time. "If I don't tell you?" Quenton wonders. "And why do I have to pring her purple lilacs?"

"If you don't tell me I'll still ask about places to eat and text the info to you," Evelyn promises with a sigh. "Purple lilacs mean first love. Although I only know that thanks to a /horrible/ flower arranging class I once had to take. God you wouldn't believe how scary some girls boarding schools are."

"Yeah. I wouldn't know that," agrees Quenton, furrowing his brow even more deeply than before, if possible. "Uh… I don't know how she'll take that. Though I guess she, of all people, wouldn't know the meaning." A hand lifts to run his fingers through his dark hair.

"That narrows it down to just about every girl in school," Evelyn says, shaking her head. "She'll at least understand that you giving her flowers means you like her. Especially if you've been able to present them without any strength related mishaps."

"Yeah, but she's not that classy," Quenton murmurs, though he almost says this proudly of his secret crush. "Uh, not that… being all classy or whatever is a good thing," he mumbles, shifting on his feet and scratching his scalp.

"Romance tip number one. Never claim the girl isn't classy, she might take it the wrong way," Evelyn explains solemnly, waving her finger at Quenton. "Even if she doesn't like flowers you can always downplay it and she'll at least know you tried. Which is sometimes more important, making too much of an effort is usually better than doing to little."

"I think that calling her classy would be a bit of an insult, though," Quenton replies, furrowing his brow. "I dunno. I'll give her the flowers, I guess. The words classy won't even come out of my mouth. I guess we'll both be better off." He shifts slightly. "So… how do you all this romance crap?"

Evelyn covers her mouth with her hand demurely to stifle a laugh. "I'm guessing you've never heard a thing about a girls boarding school then huh? Romance is one of the biggest topics for discussion. Plus I /have/ had a fair share of dates in the past. You are however right about using classy, it's not a word which has a great reputation. Unless you're after a back-handed compliment in which case it's superb."

"I don't know what goes on them, save for what I see in an- uh… movies and crap." Quenton rolls his tongue in his cheek, before his shoulders drop. "Back handed compliment? What's that? How's that different from a normal compliment?" This guy is hopeless.

"It's like saying 'you have such amazing blue eyes, almost too blue'. When you say something which is nice at first glance, but actually isn't very nice at all," Evelyn explains, idly tapping her chopsticks against the table. "Movies and crap indeed… No lingere pillow fights I'm afraid. At least not at any of the schools I went to."

"Lingerie pillow fights," Quenton murmurs, staring blankly, before asking, perhaps bluntly, "You a lesbian?" Not that he believes she is one, but he has to get on the offensive sometime. "Alright, so no backhanded compliments or whatever. Any other advice from the Love Kitty?"

Evelyn flutters her lashes. "I prefer Kitty of love. It has a better ring to it," she notes. "As for my preferences.. I can't say I've decided either way. Final tips… Pay for everything unless you think she's the sort who'd take it the wrong way, then make sure you let her know you intend to split the bill upfront. I'll make sure the text I send you lists the level of dress which is appropriate, so you don't turn up in jeans to a black tie venue. The rest I can't really help you with unless I know the lucky lady."

Fuck. He's going to have to tell her. She probably knew his crush longer than he did. Quenton takes a deep breath, while his shoulders shrug. "Uh… it's Shane," he mumbles, glancing down at his boots and staring at them with red eyes. "I dunno. I have no idea what it is about her. Maybe I'm just having some weird hormonal imbalance. Maybe it's the time she called me a pussy." He's a troubled youth, Quenton.

Evelyn blinks a few times, then shrugs. Tactfully not mentioning any thoughts she has regarding Quentons given reasons for his romantic interest. "You probably should split the bill then," she decides. "I honestly don't know her very well but she doesn't seem like she'd take you paying for everything well. Think we've met once. She seemed pretty cool though. Cute too. Just a shame I couldn't convince her to teach me to sew, I might actually have pants I could wear by now if she'd said yes. Anyway… A few flowers might go down okay, but not too many, when in doubt admit you're not sure and ask for her input. I guess it goes without saying you probably shouldn't put the moves on until you can at least eat your sandwiches with your hands."

"Yeah," Quenton agrees, flinching at that. "Yeah. Well. I'll… just ask her to go with me as a friend or something. Not as a date. I don't know. I don't… want to hurt her accidentally." He shifts slightly. "But I got a bunch of cash, and I'll just…" he trails off. "I dunno. I really like that girl." Realizing where he is, he mutters, "You'd better not, like, blab this out to the entire school."

"I /did/ already promise I wouldn't spread your secrets around," Evelyn reminds, waving her chopsticks sternly. "Given by all accounts Shane can explode I'd expect not wanting to hurt people is something you have in common. Look it's really not that hard, be honest and don't rush anything. See how things work out. Don't overplay the doing stuff as friends card if you actually have feelings for her because you'll end up in the friend zone. Oh and one final tip, if you do have a bunch of cash don't overspend. Trips to the poles require a lot of expensive cold weather gear."

"I still got a year left," snaps Quenton, grumbling over at Evelyn, once more. He has just been grumping at her today, hasn't he? "And it doesn't matter if I'm in the friend zo- wait a sec. Well. I don't think I'd… rage over it, but if she ended up with someone else, I don't know. I'd deal with it somehow." He clears his throat. "I just honestly wanna hang out with Sage and Shane as much as I can before graduation."

"Then tell them that," Evelyn repeats, shaking her head. "Neither of them read minds and I've just promised not to tell anyone. So you're on your own on that one. Oh and if you worry so much that you're already having to work out how you'd cope if she dated someone else then you probably like her enough to ask her out on a proper date. They always say people regret the things they don't do more than the things they did and if you're living alone thats a lot of time to regret things with."

"No. Because I'm leaving. No matter what. I don't know if I can control this, because when I do rage, I fucking lose a little more control each and every time." Quenton shakes his head. "Hell. Maybe the date thing is just a bad idea." Evelyn's words of encouragement combat his self-doubt, and he closes his eyes tightly a moment. "Man. This is a hard situation." And then he opens them, furrowing his brow. "And why am I telling you all this?"

"My guess? You suck at not making friends with people," Evelyn teases playfully, springing up from her seat and dumping the remains of her meal in the trash. Tail in full on swishing mode. "It's either that or my people skills are amazing. Take your pick. Look if this rage thing is why you're acting like you do then maybe you need some balancing emotions to cancel it out. Being aggressive to drive people away seems like it'll make it easier to resort to getting angry in other situations. It'd be like me trying to control my feline nature by playing with a ball of twine."

"You don't get it," Quenton mutters, glancing about now, suspiciously, as if the two are being watched. "That isn't the only reason I am aggressive. I mean, it's the most important reason, don't get me wrong, but I have to release the anger somehow. It's always there, bubbling up, and when it hits the top, that's when I can't control it anymore and I explode." He blows out some air.

Evelyn tilts her head. "I don't get it because you didn't explain it," she says flatly. "I had to put that together from guesses and female feline intuition. So is this a part of your power? You get mutant grade anger? Even if you do how does it make what I said any less valid? Sure you're going to be prone to anger, but it's not going to 'bubble up' slower if you're actually angry now is it? At the end of the day neither of us can know what it's like being the other, you'd probably find it really disturbing if you knew what it's like having the mind of a cat, but from everything you've told me intentionally or otherwise I still think you should take a risk and ask her out. Just make sure she knows about your rage thing when you do."

"Simmer down," Quenton suddenly snaps, before clearing his throat, shifting on his feet, shaking his head. "What do you mean, how does it make it any less valid? I don't want to have to release around her." After a moment, he stares blankly at the feline mutant, before muttering, "That sounded dirty. I should have said; I don't want to, well, literally, simmer down when I'm with her. I want to be calm the whole time."

"Not much worse than your whole release the anger and things bubbling up speach," Evelyn teases with a grin. "It sounded like something I've read in a fanfic. Look what I meant was even if you're always struggling with power induced anger it isn't going to help if you act in a way which re-enforces it. Maybe you should ask one of the teachers if they can help? Before you declare you won't even consider it think about it this way, if you want to be calm around Shane then you have two real options. Control yourself or find someone who can help."

"I found someone who can help me uh… simmer without me hurting people, but the same thing happens as if I raged. My body changes and once it's all over, I have lesser control of my powers," Quenon murmurs, rubbing at his nape. "It's like no matter what I do, I'm either gonna hurt people or eventually end up some self hating monster shut-in."

Evelyn reaches down and brushes at her tail. "Then I hate to say it but you might need to ask Ms Frost if there is something more the school can do. Maybe involving the weird medical facilities they have. Perhaps someone could make an antidote…. Because the monster shut-in option probably won't work. You can fly after all, so where-ever you hide you'll ever really be far from people and if you keep getting more and more angry you'll resent people for your isolation and come seeking revenge." She winces. "Sorry… Might have spoilt your isolation plan."

"We'll see what happens." Quenton shrugs his shoulders. "And I can only fly as fast as I can run, so if I'm somewhere no one can't find me, like Antartica or something, I'll become like a zen hermit or something. Ad as long as you don't spill it, don't care what you do with it."

"That's assuming your powers don't grow as you get older," Evelyn notes, hand on hip. "You'd also need regular resupply trips if you lived somewhere truely remote. They're only unpopulated because people can't actually live there you know. Anyway I have to get going now. I have some essays I was supposed to do last night but I got a little distracted by a catnip toy. I hope you do ask Shane out and that it goes well. Maybe it's the motivation you need to find a solution to your problems!"

"I already know the solution to my problem," Quenton grunts, while he leans slightly against the wall, tossing the plastic container of salad back and forth between his hands. "And yeah. Maybe I'll ask her out," he mutters. "I'm still not sure. If someone ever gives you trouble, come find me."

"Considering the only person so far to give me trouble has been you and that ended up like this…." Evelyn says cheerfully. "I think I can handle most problems through diplomacy, but thanks for the offer. I'll keep it in mind if any disasters strike. Unless I find a nice tree to hide in. Good luck, I'll cya around." And with a final wave and a wink she turns to head out, tail swishing from side to side as she walks.

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