It's not Emo - It's Sulking [ota - at your own risk]
After finally being released from the medlab, Pyro was loathe to go back to his room yet. Apparently he'd already gotten a new room-mate and all St John could think was it should've been Evan's room-mate. That's what Jack had said; Pyro's time was up. So far neither Jack nor Stryker had made any move towards rectifying Pyro's continued existence, and maybe he'd just proved something or they'd figured they'd let him get more paranoid by the hour.
If that was it, then it was working.
The slightest thing made him jump, and he was pretty sure that when, if, Esme ever 'whispered' at him again, he'd fry the nearest object in a second. His lighter was a warm weight in his hand, even with his gloves over the top -stupid burns on his damn fingers from the bursts of time his powers weren't controlling the fire.
Second time in his life that fire had burnt him. Last time it was purely his own curiosity. This time his own damn fire had mocked him. Leaning against the wall by the garage, he ran his thumb over the metal, flicking and snapping the flame to light. His right arm and shoulder had been strapped up and immobilised for now. 'Just a few days' they'd said. The bullet hadn't broken his collarbone, just cracked it slightly. They wanted to be sure it healed along the same line.
It was just as well for St John he was left handed. Or he really would've been fucked.
If that was it, then it was working.
The slightest thing made him jump, and he was pretty sure that when, if, Esme ever 'whispered' at him again, he'd fry the nearest object in a second. His lighter was a warm weight in his hand, even with his gloves over the top -stupid burns on his damn fingers from the bursts of time his powers weren't controlling the fire.
Second time in his life that fire had burnt him. Last time it was purely his own curiosity. This time his own damn fire had mocked him. Leaning against the wall by the garage, he ran his thumb over the metal, flicking and snapping the flame to light. His right arm and shoulder had been strapped up and immobilised for now. 'Just a few days' they'd said. The bullet hadn't broken his collarbone, just cracked it slightly. They wanted to be sure it healed along the same line.
It was just as well for St John he was left handed. Or he really would've been fucked.