(no subject)

[xmm_piotr]

28 January 2007
The Subway

It is a relatively quiet day on the subway. Perhaps the weather outside -- cloudy and threatening rain at any moment -- is keeping people indoors, or perhaps the fact that it is currently not raining that has encouraged people to attempt to make their journeys on foot in the spirit of exercise and fresh air, or as fresh as the air ever is in New York. In any case, the subway car that Piotr occupies is close to empty, and has been for most of his journey up from Brighton Beach at close to the end of the line. A brown paper bag on his lap is evidence of his time spent shopping there, his easy expression evidence of the good company he has had on his trip.

Seated beside Piotr and doing his best to remain inconspicuous is that company of his. Kurt Wagner is dressed in a long trenchcoat, the sort of a thing that is most often seen in old detective films. A fedora to match this is pulled low over his face, doing at least a nominal job of shading his unique appearance from casual glances. Even so, it has not been a day without stares and refrains of "mutie" in the air. Kurt though, seems unphased by it all. He smiles cheerfully and does his best at being as unphased as he appears.

Bundled up in the corner, Sophie idly draws on a pad of paper. Her drawing is that of the inside of a subway car, only one reclaimed by nature and sinister little rat-like figures.

Sitting quietly staring out the window at the blur of the moving subway car, Gwydion seems as if he is trying to focus his eyes on what lies outside the window. Beside him rests a napsack with one of the straps wrapped around his hand, his fingers idly tugging at it as if they have nothing better to do. The sack itself looks rather full, as though he's either a tourist or, at least, on taking a trip.

The far end of the car seats Ryan, a solitary figure who's remained relatively still since entering. While the views outside may not be breathtaking unless you hold a certain fondness for the dark, they're apparently preferable to making eye contact, conversation or indeed recognizing the fact that there are others on the train at all.

A glance at his watch, a paint-splattered, tatty old thing somewhat at odds with the rest of his neat appearance, tells Piotr that 2 PM is fast approaching, information that he shares in a roundabout way with Kurt. "We have a few hours still before we will be looked for at the school. Perhaps we could--" Whatever suggestion he was about to make to occupy their time, though, is lost in a sudden screeching of metal as the subway train jolts hard in the rails that hold it, throwing Piotr forwards and sideways in his seat, kept from being flung headlong to the floor only by a quick grab for the armrest at his side.

With Kurt's attention turned toward Piotr at the beginning of conversation, warm yellow eyes upon his friend, he is not exactly prepared to catch himself when the train is suddenly jolted and his momentum continues forward faster than his seat. Instead, he does end up on the floor where Piotr did not. Many years of practice with landings though, helps him end up on his feet instead of his face. "Ach!" his voice calls out in alarm.

Stumbling forward, her sketch pad sent skidding down the carriage, Sophie lands hard on the floor. "What on earth was /that/?" she complains loudly, already scrambling after her precious drawing.

Gwydion seems to bounce forward and then back into his seat without grabbing ahold of anything, though his bag slides off its seat and stops a few feet away, held tight by the wrist its straps are wrapped around. He doesn't say anything, he just looks around for some sort of explanation.

While there are numerous poles in the carriage to protect the wise in these situations, they are certainly not meant to be head butted. The prolonged screeching drowns out the somewhat quieter thud of Ryan's forehead making unexpected contact with one such pole; his subsequent groan is lighter still, as drowsy in sound as his delayed gripping of the hand hold.

Steadying himself in his seat as the car continues its screaming glide to a halt, a quick glance towards Kurt as Piotr calls his name ensures his friend's safety before he turns towards the others in the carriage to check that they, too, are unhurt. Sophie's loud exclamation draws his attention and he looks over to her urgently, but seeing her moving away he turns around instead, looking out of the window in an attempt to descover an answer to her question. The dark of the subway tunnel offers little explanation.

Kurt stands where he landed for a long moment, looking quickly around the car. In the movement, his tail freed itself from his coat, and now the blue spaded tip flicks agitatedly behind him. "I was unaware that the subway featured such exciting portions of the ride." His hat also decided it was no longer interested in him and has landed somewhere out of sight. "Is everyone okay?" The German accented voice speaks heavily of concern, once he is done being sarcastic.

"Fine," Sophie mutters sullenly. "But my sketchbook is all dirty, it's just as well this is only my practice book." The teen pulls herself to her feet, then drops into a window seat.

Gwydion replaces his sack on the seat and stands up slowly, unwrapping his hand from the straps and grabing a support pole with the other should the car continue moving. He nods to Kurt's question with a quiet, "I'm okay . . ." as he glances around to ensure no one is hurt.

"Ow," Ryan offers, massaging the already angrily reddened part of his forehead and doing an almost flawless job of not swaying in his seat. Finally turning to face Kurt's address, his eyes predictably trail to the tip of the mutant's tail, widening slightly before turning back to its owner-- darting /past/ its owner to land on Piotr, this time with a flicker of recognition as he makes to stand up.

There is a reason Piotr remained seated, and that reason becomes apparent as the car jolts once more, finally skidding to a halt with a ringing metallic crash. It is then that the tall man gets to his feet, his head ducked to avoid bashing it against the low ceiling of the subway car, and he walks quickly to the front door of the carriage with faint, quick glances at the others around, before stopping and peering through smudged glass to the carriage beyond. "I cannot see any sign of an accident," he reports, turning his head over his shoulder towards Kurt.

The second jolt also sees Kurt remaining on his feet, though not before he goes staggering a few steps forward with that tail lashing behind him to help preserve his balance. "Perhaps they felt a test of the brakes was needed?" The blue mutant tells his much taller friend. He looks around slowly, making sure no one was harmed in the final stop. It's only about then that he realizes he is standing there quite revealed and three-digited hands reach up to tug the collar of his coat up. That should help.

With an "Oof!" Gwydion tumbles forward, dragging his bag with him for a few moments before it comes loose and rolls past him. He stays on the ground for a moment before he slowly raises his head, glancing around him quietly. His eyes focus on a wagging tail, which is stares at for a moment, before turning away so as to not get caught looking.

A lot more agile standing up, Ryan rocks into the jolt with a single step and remains on his feet. Which is good. Being on his feet is what allows him to stalk over to Piotr and take ahold of his arm in an attempt to turn the larger man to face him, "/Hey/." Accusatory at the very least, his tone isn't a friendly one.

Sophie frowns in the corner, the wash of strong emotions overwhelming her for a moment. "Don't tell me we're /trapped/?" she murmurs.

"Perhaps," Piotr mutters aside to Kurt, though his tone is somewhat dubious; if that was a joke, he missed it. His thoughts on the matter, though, are interrupted as Ryan grabs his armand he flashes a glance of surprise in the face of the shorter man's anger, recognition following a moment later with a hesitant, "...Ryan? Is something wrong? Are you all right?"

The sudden confrontation draws Kurt's attention. Yellow eyes blink in surprise at the young man grabbing at Piotr's arm. He frowns, but only for a moment. His attention instead flips to the man who fell to the floor and Kurt hurries to his side, offering oddly structured hands down to aid him to his feet. "Are you all right?" He asks in a gentle tone that clashes sharply off of his demonic appearance. Kurt's overarching concern also moves to Sophie. He has faith that Piotr can take care of himself. "Are you hurt, little one?" He asks her quickly.

Gwydion sighs and takes the offered hand without hesitation, pulling himself up with a grunt. "Yes, thank you . . ." he says, before his eyes widen at the lack of fingers that just help him up. Resisting the urge to pull his hand away, he offers a slight smile and turns to the woman as well, moving toward her to offer his own hand.

Ryan narrows his eyes despite having to angle them upwards, "Fine, soon as you explain what you did to Jackson." His hand doesn't /quite/ curl into a fully fledged fist but he's tense enough to suggest that it's certainly ready to.

"Don't call me little one!" Sophie snaps. "I'm fine, I just /need/ to get home and take my medicine." She glances at her watch, then out the window. Slowly she begins to radiate a sense of panic.

Piotr's eyes widen at Ryan's accusing question, his own momentary confusion exacerbated by Sophie's panic as he lifts his hands up in front of him in protest of his innocence. "It was an accident," he says quickly, "truly. I meant him no harm. I never wanted to hurt him or upset him."

"My most sincere apologies Fraulein," Kurt says without an ounce of sarcasm. His attention darts back toward Piotr and his confrontation with Ryan, worry beginning to furrow his indigo brows. "Piotr? Is everything okay?" And then back to Sophie and Gwydion both, his attention beginning to flicker about the subway car as that undercurrent of panic erodes his calm. "Your medicine, Fraulein? Is this urgent?"  The tip of his tail is lashing more animatedly now, like an upset feline.

Gwydion takes a few steps back from the tail-swinging blue man, and flops himself down in a seat behind him. Feeling the panic well up, he just sits and watches intently. You know, to prevent freaking out.

Ryan flinches as Piotr's hands come up, tension and wariness remaining even after the gesture is complete. "You threw him at a wall /by accident/?" he continues incredulously and just that little bit louder. Raising his voice really doesn't suit Ryan, much less so when it sounds so unnerved.

"My therapist says I need to take it on time," Sophie replies, flicking onto a new page and beginning on a new drawing. Her breathing slows, as she attempts calming exercises. They don't seem to be working however.

"Please," Piotr mumbles urgently, apology and shame constricting his throat and choking the word to a slightly higher pitch than is usual for him. "I was-- was not myself. My control--" He fumbles for words to express himself and what he did to his friend, failing miserably. "I am sorry. I did not mean to." Kurt's question goes unheard, or at least unanswered, though the Russian's agitation is plain to see.

The blue, tailed mutant continues trying to keep track of everything going on around him. Concerned yellow eyes fall on Gwydion when he backs away, "Are you okay? Have you been hurt?" Then immediately, back to Sophie, "Is it a matter of your health? We may be here for some time if there is a problem with the train." His calm tone is starting to grow more and more riddled with concern, especially when his eyes dart once more and he sees Piotr struggling to explain himself to Ryan. For the moment though, he does not insert himself there. He only bites nervously at his bottom lip, something that displays how pointed his teeth are.

Silence follows the Russian's apology and Ryan just watches him carefully for a moment as if suspecting something slightly less friendly. In the absence of any attempt to throw /him/ into a wall, he backs up a step so that Piotr can get past, eyes turning to the darkness outside with the same suspicion, "Y'think someone out there made it stop?"

Sophie frowns at Kurt. "It's /private/ okay? I don't go pushing you for personal stuff," she replies sharply. "It would help if /they/ would calm down, fighting makes me nervous."

Gwydion nods quietly. "I-I'm okay. Just feeling a little, y'know . . . boxed in." His eyes slowly glance to his bag, strewn halfway across the room, but he decides it's better to not move and just kinda, k'know, fade into the background for awhile.

Though Ryan steps back, Piotr's edginess is still stoked by Sophie's continued projection and barely abates, grounding itself instead on their confused predicament. He looks out of the window again, ducking low to see, and a huff of nervous breath clouds the glass in front of his face. "I do not know," he mumbles. "Perhaps a mechanical failure?" He does not sound entirely convinced by this innocent explanation.

Three digited hands are held up innocently, "I do not mean to push, Fraulein. I am only concerned. I do not want you to come to harm because of our train's difficulties." Kurt frowns at the teen's sharpness, his own edginess is causing harm to his usual levels of patience. He looks, hurriedly over to Piotr and Ryan, "I am sure whatever it is will be resolved. We need only to remain calm, ja?" Poor Kurt's attention is pinballing around the subway car so hard that he seems about to climb the walls. To Gwydion, "I think we all feel that, Fruend." His smile is meant to be soothing, but it comes out instead as uncomfortable and anxious.

Ryan maintains a safe distance between himself and Piotr to begin with while his feelings of anger for the man subside, the empty space filling up with anxiety borrowed from Sophie and nurtured by her mutation. Eventually giving in, he leans around Pete's bulk just to make sure that nothing was missed in the checking of outside. "Don't they usually make an announcement?"

"They do," Piotr agrees anxiously, stepping back towards the centre of the carriage to allow Ryan to see out and edging back towards Kurt. "Or, they should. Perhaps there has been a problem? If the driver is hurt, maybe he could not make an announcement? Or perhaps something happened to the driver's cabin and now the system to make the announcement is broken?"

Kurt decides that at this moment, finding his hat is a priority. He begins pacing through the subway car, trying to locate the missing fedora. Luckily, the population of the car is low enough that there is not a crowd for his appearance to drive into a frenzy. Perhaps only one or two bystanders are remaining pressed tightly to their seats to keep the frightening mutant at a distance. "Or perhaps he has simply yet to figure out what the matter is," Kurt calls to Piotr and Ryan, there is a definite worry over this unknown present in his voice, the discomfort alien in the German accent so well trained to calm and patience.

"Maybe we're all trapped? Or perhaps Magneto killed the driver and is holding us hostage!" Sophie declares, scribbling furiously on her sketch pad - drawing skull faced things peering in through the windows of the carriage.

"Someone should go up there," Ryan decides, eyeing Kurt as his personal choice. He sidles just a few inches closer to the previous source of his anxiety once the Nightcrawler is subjected to a proper look over. Being blue he's obviously more dangerous than the extra six inches that Piotr has over him.

Dark brows furrow at the mention of Magneto, a momentary peak of panic tempered at last by struggling reason. "I do not think it is Magneto," he ventures tentatively in the face of a notable lack of melodrama, although as he turns towards Sophie he seems less certain of his words. "But perhaps we should try and find out?" He looks over to Kurt at this suggestion, and the sight of his friend's unease increases his own. Brushing past Ryan, he heads a few steps towards the blue mutant.

Kurt frowns over at Sophie at her suggestions. "I do not believe it is in Magneto's agenda to torment subways." He does not speak the "I hope," that he mouths after that statement. He instead looks toward Piotr, "I am willing to move up to the front of the train, but I am not sure if the other cars are as empty as our own. I do not want to..." He frowns for a moment, glancing at Ryan and the other strangers. "Alarm anyone."

"Does Magneto attack things that often?" Gwydion asks, finally having calmed down enough to breathe, let alone speak. He hmms. "I mean, I've heard the news reports over the wire, but  . . . I didn't think he attacked quite /that/ often!"

Sophie pulls her feet up onto the seat next to her. "Does anyone have any water? There was that thing in the news way back about people dehydrating trapped in a subway," she asks sullenly. The drawing seems to be helping her mood, shifting from wild panic to a sense of despair. People visible in the next carriage along also seem to be beginning to be affected by the press of her empathy.

"Dehydrating?" Ryan repeats, "That'd take days..." A moment spent staring at Sophie's drawing is enough to have him looking out the window again, face tilted at an angle to try and see down the track. With little other than blackness to be seen, his eyes swivel the rest of the way to Kurt. "Want me to go?"

With panic's claws receding from Piotr and the others, the Russian manages to return some semblance of control to the shaking of his voice, operating under a cloud of despair something he has grown used to in the past few weeks. "Kurt, you need not go," he tells his friend, reaching out a reassuring hand to the man's shoulder. His attention is finally drawn to the young artist and he looks down to Sophie with faint recognition once more, telling her with determination, "We will not be trapped in here, I am sure of it."

The tension that had been building in Kurt's shoulders is released somewhat at Pete's reassuring touch. He glances up to the taller man, then nods his head in refrain of his sentiment. "It would be very hard to remain trapped here for too long." His tail is slowly settling it's movements, the frown on his face going from anxiousness to simply being unhappy with the situation.

Gwydion nods in agreement. "It's not as though these subway cars aren't monitored . . ." He seems to have relaxed a bit too, and finally pulls himself out of his seat to retrieve his bag.

"If it was monitored they would have sent out some kind of information announcement by now," Sophie replies with a sniffle. The rest of the carriages occupants, and those in the next carriage along, slowly begin to sob hopelessly.

Forehead rested against the window between two fists, Ryan instead settles into breathing deeply where stubbornness refuses to let him sob openly with the rest.

It is the sight of Sophie crying that brings tears to Piotr's eyes and deep, overriding instinct pulls him towards the girl as a line of salt water scores its glistening passage down his cheek. "Hush now, Sophie," he mumbles, drooping into the seat next to her and moving to run a hand in a soothing stroke down the side of her head, offering spread arms and a shoulder for her to cry on. "Hush now. Something will be done..."

The oppressive air of gloom in the subway car is too much for even Kurt. He lowers himself into a crouch, a position that seems more comfortable for him than standing looked, and closes his eyes for a moment. Tears are noticeable as darkened spots along his cheeks. One hand moves beneath his top to clasp at the rosery beads there, as he mutters a soft prayer in his native German. "If it comes to it," he suddenly decides. "I can exit the car to go for help." There is unspoken weight behind this decision that only Piotr is likely to understand.

Gwydion picks up and slings his napsack over his shoulder before sitting in the closest seat to him and bowing his head. Though he seems to tear up, he doesn't outwardly sob.

"I just want to go home," Sophie says quietly. "I hate this stupid subway, it's so dark and we've been forgotten by everyone."

Ryan turns from the window to glance over the others with eyes shining in the last stages of resolve. There are no tears as of yet and he's ever so careful not to blink and change that as he lowers himself down into a seat, jaw set in determination. "'m sure your parents will check up," he mutters with an attempted smile for Sophie's sake, voice forlorn in the knowledge that his have no reason to.

"It is all right, sweetheart," Piotr assures Sophie, but the words are rote, their comfort offered without conviction, though the physical support he gives her in the form of a gentle arm around her shoulders is real.

"Hi there folks!" The chipper Texan voice over the train's speakers is a jarring interruption to the sad quiet of the carriage, the young, female driver far enough away that Sophie's emanations have no effect on her. "Had a little electrical failure there, but that's all sorted out and we're just getting back under way again." Sure enough, the carriage gives a tiny shift and, slowly, begins moving forward, increasing steadily in speed. "I'm real sorry for any inconvenience this has caused y'all, but we shouldn't be more'n two or three minutes late, so I hope you folks can all still have a great day."

Gwydion wipes a stray tear from his eyes before glancing upwards at the announcement and a slightly relieved smile creeps across his lips. "Thank goodness . . ."

At hearing the announcement over the PA system, Kurt startles at first. Then at realizing what is being said, he drawns in a long, slow breath. He doesn't put any voice to saying "Thank Gott," but his lips move to form the words. He looks over toward Piotr and Sophie, "And we are on our way," he says, forcing a smile onto his face. The blue mutant straightens, but not before he finally spots the fedora beneath a seat. Once he plops it back onto his head, he moves to the seat he had been jarred from, tail still hanging low.

A few minutes later, spent in an awkward silence, Sophie hurriedly gets up and grabs her bag as they move into the next station. "Have a nice journey," she mumbles, still rubbing at her eyes. In her haste to leave the young women leaves her practice sketch pad resting on the seat next to Piotr. Without looking back she dashes off into the crowd of commuters.

Ryan's isn't the only sigh of relief directed towards the ceiling as his hands drop back into his lap. Doing nothing to disturb the prolonged silence between announcement and station, he hesitates at the door after Sophie, hand on the rim and head turned fractionally over his shoulder. Apparently thinking better of a parting comment in the second for which he is frozen, he steps off onto the platform and only looks back fully once the train has started to move off.

Gwydion stands up and offers a bit of a grin to those with him, before stepping out and sighing a mumbled, "What a day . . ." to himself.

A trailing hand follows Sophie's departure, patting the youngster on the arm as she leaves and watching her with a sympathetic look as she steps down onto the platform. It is not until she is already lost in the crowd that he looks down to the seat she occupied and discovers her sketchbook, picking it up and standing quickly to return it, but the doors of the carriage close before he can reach them. Downcast, he returns to his seat next to Kurt, stooping to collect his dislodged bag as he passes it and sinking onto the bench in the carriage exhaustedly. "That was..." he attempts, but a suitable description eludes him.

"I agree completely," Kurt says of the non-description. The back of his hands rub over his eyes and he sighs heavily. "I do not know what came over me, to be honest. I feared we would die down here, alone and forgotten. It was..." He shakes his head, trying to find the right way to phrase it. "Completely irrational?" He looks to Piotr for confirmation.

"Irrational, yes," Piotr agrees with a tired nod, the word not what he was searching for but apt nonetheless. "Of all the things to be so frightened of..." Incomprehension brings his words to silence, and he continues, as if to reassure himself. "Between us, we could have brought everyone here to safety, and yet, that fear, that despair-- It was terrible."

"I have not felt such a hopelessness in many years, mein Fruend." Kurt looks slowly around the subway car, as if the train itself could provide an answer as to how those emotions overtook the pair of them. "I have never known myself to be claustrophobic, but it is hard to deny that such a fear struck me today, ja?"

"Claustrophobia," Piotr repeats, a faint tinge of tired sympathy colouring the word before he dismisses whatever thought is on his mind. A heavy breath shrugs free of his chest and he leans forwards in his seat, opening the folded down top of his bag to check its contents then, finding nothing broken, sliding Sophie's sketchbook in against the side of the bag. "I hope never to feel that again."

One of those three-digited hands reaches over to pat Pete's arm gently. "You and me both, Piotr. You and me both." Kurt lays his head back for a moment, taking in another deep breath and trying to cleanse himself of the tension that had settled so uncomfortably into his shoulders and neck.

Setting aside his bag for a moment on the seat next to him, Piotr pulls both his hands up to his face, brushing aside the stiffness in the skin of his cheeks left by the path of his unexpected tears and then pushing his hands up to his hair, settling it carefully. "I--" he mutters, and frowns at his own words, but presses on anyway, "I do not suppose you would like to walk the rest of the way to the car?"

"I think perhaps that is the best idea I have heard all day," he says. Kurt knows very well what walking along the city streets will mean. Stares, jeers, perhaps even being attacked. And yet, it seems the idea is so welcome that he is already shifting to rise from his seat. "We could both use the fresh air, ja?"

"Most definitely," Piotr replies with a certain heated fervence in his quiet words. He too moves to stand, pulling himself upright with the aid of the armrest that kept him from falling out of his seat earlier, collecting his bag on the way, and this simple action seems to ease his expression a little more.

Kurt gestures toward the exit, "You may lead the way, mein Fruend. Perhaps then you will draw more attention than I." He carefully coils his tail around his own leg, to keep it concealed completely under his trenchcoat.

A small nod, apologetic and sympathetic, meets Kurt's words and Piotr heads to the door, hand wrapping around the handrail at the door as the light of a station comes into view up ahead. "Perhaps this trip was not such a good idea as I had thought," he mumbles quietly aside to his companion.

"It has been an interesting trip, but perhaps we can still salvage it. I think perhaps I crave a milkshake." Kurt smiles up toward Piotr. Even after all of that, he refuses to allow sadness to linger, now that there is no force pressing it upon him.

That irrepressible smile draws one to match to Piotr's face, more staid, less free, but unendingly grateful for his friend's good cheer. "We can probably find you a milkshake," he agrees as they arrive at the station and he steps clear of the carriage and onto the platform, seeking out the exit in a quick scan. "I may even join you, in fact."

Nightcrawler emerges from the train and onto the platform, pulling the collar of his coat high and his hat low. "Then we must find ourselves somewhere. Once we are back in Westchester." Irrepressible as he may be, Kurt is not a fan of roaming about the city. In this case though, he follows behind his friend to make the exception.

"Yes," Piotr agrees, spying the exit and making his way towards it with a look round to make sure Kurt is still in tow. The crowd wells up around them as many of the other passengers who chose not to get off the train at the first opportunity seem now to come to the same decision as the mutant pair, and the tall man hangs back a little to allow the majority to pass. A gruff business man stares at Kurt accusingly in passing, and a pair of women, one old, one young, shoot him a look of distrust as a small child approaches, toddling away from her mother to goggle up at the blue man with curious brown eyes.

Kurt keeps his head lowered, his shoulders hunched up defensively. The stares and glares wither him to some degree, but at seeing the little girl approach, he cannot help but smile. He is careful not to show his teeth. "Piotr," he whispers, "Perhaps you should alert this little one's parents, so I do not startle them."

Turning at the whisper of his name, Piotr smiles too, his inexorable fondness for children surfacing as he reaches out to take the young girl's hand with a quiet, "Come, little one." She allows her hand to be taken and even obligingly steps backwards as Piotr begins to lead her towards a fretting woman calling the name, "Beatrice!" into the busy station, but her eyes do not leave Kurt. "Bwoo man," she accuses, although she does not seem particularly perturbed by this fact.

The smile on Kurt's face is warm as he watches Piotr lead the small child back toward her mother. He does not follow, though. He instead remains where he is, trying his best not to be noticed. His tail is still, his head low under his hat, and his hands tucked into his pockets. There is no bwoo man here. Only a detective from the 1940's.

"Come," Piotr encourages again, and this time the quiet word and the sound of her mother approaching detected with the keen perception of disobedient children everywhere prompts Beatrice to turn and face the short brunette woman who scoops the child into her arms as the Russian's helpful, "Ma'am?" helps her locate the small girl thing. With a look of vague suspicion, a New York thank you, the woman turns brusquely and makes her way towards the escalator to the world above.

Kurt's expression turns to longing. There is some envy written in his indigo features at not being able to participate for fear of people's reactions. He is waiting though, with a smile to overwrite that by the time Piotr returns. "Milkshakes are waiting," he says playfully and begins to walk toward the escalator himself.

"We must not keep them," Piotr agrees, joining Kurt in forward motion towards the way out with a smile for his friend. "Bwoo man!" proclaims an echo from near the exit to the station, sounding rather pleased with itself for this insightful comment, but it is soon hushed as mother and daughter emerge into the open air and the wind sweeps away the young voice.

Kurt nods his head slowly, listening to the little girl call that refrain out before she is out of earshot. A gentle chuckle rolls out of him, but for the moment, he remains silent. There is a lot to think about after this little trip.

Delayed and purposefully moving slowly, the crowds are thin by the time Piotr and Kurt reach the last level of the station and must move to conventional stairs to ascend the rest of the way. The Russian allows his companion his silence for a moment as he squints at the sign at the station's head, smiling somewhat as he announces, "We are not so far from the car as I had thought."

"This is welcome news. As happy as I am to be out of that train, I am afraid that the average New Yorker does not see the Nightcrawler to be very amazing." Kurt's playfulness manifests once more, as he paces half a stride behind Piotr.

"I have no doubt that this is only because they do not know you," Piotr says with a glance aside to his friend, sincerity ringing in the jovial tone that Kurt's good cheer awakes in him. "There are very few who are quite so amazing as you. One day, they will leave behind their suspicion and accept us for who we are."

"If you continue to flatter me so, Pete, I fear I may turn blue." Kurt's grin is wide as he continues on toward the car and their escape from the scrutiny of New Yorkers. People are stopping ocassionally to stare, and a few are trying very hard to get out of the obvious mutant's path.

A small chuckle meets Kurt's quip as Piotr begins to angle towards a small road not far away, beckoning his friend over with a tip of his head. "Here, this is a quieter way," he announces softly, concession to people's uneasiness around Kurt made quietly in the hope that this will make it less real.

Kurt follows along, "Much quieter," he agrees with a soft smile. He does not acknowledge this concession outloud, but there is a soft bob of his head. A thanks that he will not dignity by speaking it aloud. "Are you going to attend the ball upcoming, Pete?" The change of subject comes from left-field.

And welcome it is despite, or perhaps because of, its lack of connection to everything else. "I hope so," Piotr says with a smile. "With Kitty, if she will accept my invitation. And you?" The question is thrown back with a hint of fond mischief. "Will you be joining us with a lovely lady on your arm?"

"I am entirely unsure of this." Kurt shrugs his shoulders, "It is only a matter of finding the right lovely woman to ask." He grins with a sort of wild self-confidence that could almost be believable.

"You should hurry in your search," Piotr recommends with a wag of a large finger, severe in the face of Kurt's foppish grin. "I would never doubt your charm, but what if some other should ask the right lovely woman first?" AS the pair turn a corner, the car comes into view, sleek black against the grey of the city.

"Perhaps," Kurt muses, "I should ask the lovely Doctor Grey and see how long it takes before I am relieved of my tail." His grin remains, though now it is slanted more toward mischief.

A laugh precedes the shift of Piotr's own features towards contemplation as he points out lightly, "I think perhaps that the idea of attending the school Valentine's ball would not be appealing to Logan. Although," he adds, "if you plan ask her, I may have to ask Cassy to follow you around with a video recorder so I do not miss the result."

Kurt makes his way toward the familiar car and taps a hand against it's roof. This homebase sort of an action brings a smile to his face. The car is safety. "I promise that if I do that, I will make sure that The Cassy is present to document it."

"You are a very fine friend," Piotr says in gracious thanks, unlocking the door of the car with the remote and quickly climbing inside, waiting for Kurt to get in beside him -- and, of course, fasten his seatbelt -- before beginning the drive home.
 A simple subway ride turns into a thing of nightmares.

29 January 2007
The Gym

Julio Esteban Richter is really too short to be effective at basketball. He's gangly enough to give the impression of height relative to width when seen at a distance and not relative to anything, but up close and under the hoop, his current diminutiveness can be seen for what it really is. And yet he's still trying, playing against nothing but his own predetermined goals. He's got the steady rhythm of dribbling down, but any impression of grace this might give is lost when he shoots, his jumps more reminiscent of a spastic kitten than anything else, and the ball generally falling short of the rim.

Piotr, on the other hand, is the perfect build for basketball, tall and athletic, and has a natural dexterity that gives him further unfair advantage over the average still-growing youth. It is with a tentative smile, then, that he approaches Julio as the door swishes open to admit him to the gym, offering, "If you would like a partner, I would gladly join you," in the knowledge that, as an opponent in one-on-one basketball, he could be rather intimidating.

There is a swoosh, but it comes from the ball clipping the underside of the net as it whizzes past and bounces off the wall, its trajectory bringing it further away from its origin. Julio exhales sharply in momentary frustration, and appears to be about to go after it, but the sound of speech cutting across the otherwise-mostly-empty room gives him an excuse to keep both feet on the ground. He shuffles around in place so that he is facing the door, and his flushed face assumes a tired smile as he recognizes Piotr. He lifts one hand, "Hey! Don't know if you'd really want to...you'd be able t'end that game in, like, three seconds flat."

The ball bounces its way to the ground by the wall to be scooped out of the air by Piotr, one large hand apprehending it in its path and pulling it round to steady it against his chest and leaving a tiny smudge of grey on the white of his tee shirt. "I can go easy on you," Piotr assures his young companion with a smile of sympathy, the slangy phrase sounding awkward in his neat accent. "That is, of course, if you want me to play at all. I do not mean to interrupt."

"Nah, you're not interrupting," Julio assures, the cadence of his breath making a ritardando into more of a resting pattern as he stands. The raised hand beckons rather than waves, a wordless acceptance of friendly challenge. "Was just getting kinda antsy after sitting in class today. Better t'let it out like this than some other way." He scuffs one foot and then the other against the rubber tiling, then brushes his dampened hair back from his face.

With a little nod at the first, Piotr drops the ball with a faint flick, setting it into a slow dribbling motion that adds its steady beat to the air, though as yet he makes no advance, giving Julio a little more time to rest before beginning. He looks up towards his young companion at his explanation of why he is here, asking quietly, "You are worried about an accident with your powers?"

Julio starts off watching the ball, irises flicking slightly up and down with the motion. His knees flex in preparation to move, but the athletic tension tightens further into something less mobile at Piotr's question. Brown eyes abandon the orange sphere and peer up through thick lashes toward the taller boy's blue ones, the coloration of his face going a little lighter. "Uhm." His voice turns down in volume. "Yeah...I am. I am."

"And so," Piotr continues the thought querulously, "you came down here to try and wear yourself out, so you would not have as much energy for your power?" The bouncing increases a little in volume as the tall man offers fair warning of his impending move forwards, which he makes in extreme slow motion giving Julio ample time to intercept. "Or you came here to be alone in the hope that you would not do so much damage if something were to go wrong?"

Julio glances down as the sound of the dribbling grows louder in association with the increase of ball speed, but his joints remain stiffer than what is optimal. His hands extend slowly toward the ball, but his feet remain planted as of yet. A darker overtone creeps into his voice, effectively lowering its resonance even if its pitch is not altered. "Also cause I just don't like sitting still at a little desk for so many hours in a row," he responds, gaze still diverted. But as he finishes speaking, his eyes are quicker to react than his body is, and he finds himself looking directly up toward Piotr's eyes again. "But yeah, that too. 's that so bad?"

"No," Piotr assures the youngster, meeting his gaze with sympathy and sincerity before putting on a moderate burst of speed to raise the ball and take a shot which bounces neatly into the ring from the bottom centre of the backboard. The move, perhaps, was a little unfair, but it gives the tall man the opportunity to bring the ball to rest against his front again without the distraction of its movement to face Julio seriously. "Unless you allow yourself to become lonely through your fear. That is something none of us would like to see happen."

Julio starts to spring toward the ball, but one of his stiffened knees makes the kind of popping noise that typically comes with moving too fast out of the wrong kind of posture, and his raised foot comes neatly back down onto the ground as Piotr achieves Nothing But Net. He bends slightly at the waist to massage the offending kneecap with one hand, resulting in a need for him to crane his neck even further to look Piotr in the eyes. "'m not gonna let that happen," he says, pitch going lower now, though the slightest tremor on its surface indicates that he's not quite as certain as he would like to sound. "But I haveta worry about hurting /people/. More than the building. I mean, people get hurt by the real ones, so I could...and I don't want to."

Sympathy, deep and sincere, presses lines into the corners of Piotr's eyes and he gives a single ponderous nod. "I know how you feel," the tall man says quietly, a weight in his words slowing them slightly as he looks down to Julio. "Believe me, I know. My own mutation makes me potentially very dangerous, and I have done a lot of damage when my control of it was less than perfect, and after that -- I tried to isolate myself. It was the efforts of others in reaching out to me that helped me to recover, and you should know that you will not be left to struggle alone any more than I was."

Julio's eyebrows press inward and upward, creating little furrows and ridges that extend from the visible part of his forehead through to under his bangs. His posture straightens as his eyes remain trained on Piotr, some of their defensive worry transmuting to sympathetic curiosity. "What...happened?" he chances to ask, the first word of the sentence drawn out uncertainly. "If 'm allowed to ask," he adds more quickly. "You don't haveta answer. Either way...'s good they helped you. And...that you're offering to help me so much, you and other people." He slows back down through this last sentence. "It'd be like hurting people to ignore that, so I don't wanna hurt people like that either."

"My mutation makes me strong and difficult to harm," Piotr explains quietly, the distance of a few weeks keeping his tone level even if the look in his eyes is less calm. "A telepath affected my self-control, and I lost the ability to judge right from wrong. It was a long time before I could be contained, and I had caused a lot of damage by then..." The drag of shame brings his words to a halt and he takes a breath, looking away for a long second before returning his attention to Julio. "I could not truly accept for a-- a time after."

"Oh jeez," Julio murmurs. "I heard about that, I think." The kind of sympathy that can only come with experience floods his tone, no matter how quiet it is, but the discomfort in Piotr's eyes causes him to look down at his own feet. "'s the kinda thing everyone comes t'hear about somehow. I mean, I know about that, cause I got that." It is Julio's turn to take a long breath. "When I caused the quake at school in Albuquerque, it took, like, less than two days before everyone was all 'Julio Richter Scale' and either making fun or running away. Not much longer before the principal told me to go away. Stop the damage. I could see why." Only now does he look back at Piotr. "Guess I couldn't really blame him. And I totally can't judge you badly for yours." He manages a small smile with these last couple of words. "If you ever want support back."

Smile is met with a smile less wan than might be expected as Piotr gives a nod and a quiet, "Thank you," with borrowed optimism bolstering his spirits. "I heard what happened to you also, although this was more through official channels than hearsay. You will be met with nothing of the like here, this I can promise you, and once you begin to develop control over your powers you will not have to worry any more."

"No problem," Julio assures, the normally-casual expression carrying more weight and significance in the way he enunciates it, the hinted smile on his face expanding cautiously but certainly. "And I guess I'm getting to expect more people knowing than not, you know?" His posture has loosened up enough that he manages a rolled shrug. "And the funny thing's that the more I talk about it with people /here/, the less I'm worried. Nobody's judged me. Think I worry more when 'm alone. But you're seeing t'fix that problem of me being alone." He sounds grateful, not intruded-upon.

"Well, /that/ is good to hear," Piotr replies, his smile widening as he drops the ball to bounce it once more, two beats counting off before he throws it gently to Julio, sound and movement to break the still quiet of their less than cheerful conversation. "Try and get past me," he challenges mildly. "Perhaps while we play, you can tell me about your mutation, and we will see if there is anything we can think of to help you start to learn control."

Julio is on his guard this time, and his hands snap up to neatly intercept the ball over his chest. "I sure think so!" he confirms, rising up on the balls of his feet and bending his knees a few times experimentally before letting the basketball drop into a slow and measured dribble under his right hand. "And that sounds good! But," his eyebrows slant down slightly in determined response to the challenge, and a more lighthearted spark flickers in the dark of his eyes as he waves the other hand toward Piotr, "be warned. 'fore I was The Dreaded Rictor, I was /infamous/ for tripping the tall guys in gym!"

"I will be especially careful," Piotr promises, lightheartedness of his own growing to match Julio's as he takes a step back towards the hoop and lowers his stance slightly, his hands coming up ready to spring at any attempts to get the ball past him. "So," he invites, and perhaps there is a slight hint that this is a distraction technique in his wry smile, "tell me what it has been like when you have used your mutation before."

The speed of Julio's dribbling increases, and he switches the ball from hand to hand, a maneuver that requires no great height to achieve, and may just be his own diversion tactic. "Hasn't been on purpose," he says, voice flowing less naturally as energy is spent on keeping the ball in motion. "I get really excited or scared or upset, and then...stuff just /shakes/." On that final word, nothing shakes, but he does break free of his rooted spot on the ground, aiming to get past Piotr's side.

Piotr makes a move towards Julio, though true to his promise to take it easy on his shorter opponent his pace is slow and his hands remain low in front of him, one reaching out to try and intercept the dribble. "Did you feel anything inside of you?" he wonders, only half his attention on the game as Julio's answer to his previous question is considered.

Julio manages to switch dribbling hands in enough time to avoid having the ball snatched, though he's still in no position that could count as clear and safe, let alone within reach of the basket. His jaw juts forward at this minor achievement, though his attention on the ball proceeds to lose a great deal of its focus as he considers, "Uhm...just...not calmness. 'm never really calm when it happens."

"I see," Piotr mumbles thoughtfully, his attention slipping further from the game as he looks up to Julio's face. An opening, perhaps. "You feel nothing physical?" he queries lightly, head tilting to the side in curiosity as he perhaps highlights his inattention a little too well.""

"Haven't really focused on the before so much as the after," Julio admits, looking through squinted lashes at some indeterminate point of consideration in the air. "Maybe a little...tingly? Uh...kind of like I'm shaky inside before it moves outside." He continues to dribble, though his motion is slower. It's about as much of an opening in gameplay as the Atlantic is an opening between North America and Europe.

"Well then," Piotr says, "this is something we will have to investigate. Perhaps we should wait for a fine day and then go outside, and see if you can trigger your powers in a place where they will not cause any danger." Such a day is not now, however, and he offers a small smile of challenge to the youngster. "Now, are you going to try and shoot, or not?"
 Piotr finds Julio in the gym. It turns out they have quite a bit in common.