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Pyro hesitates outside the door a moment, nearly walking away a moment, then deciding otherwise and giving several solid raps on Mystique's door. He's dressed casually, teeshirt and jeans, and lighter is already in hand.
Mystique is working at her computer, fingers flying across the keyboard and room lit primarily by the dim glow of the screen. A small lamp glows warmth next to her bed. When she pauses at the knock of her door, there's a certain amount of preparation: a setting of her shoulders, a stiffening of her jaw. It's not Pyro she expects to find on the other side of the door, and so when she swings it open, she spends a moment staring at him without comment.
"Hi," is Pyro's brilliant opening line. "You got a minute? Kinda been needing to talk to you."
Brilliant red brows lift slightly, and then Mystique moves to one side and lifts her hand in silent invitation to enter.
"Thanks," he says, a couple strides bringing him inside, where he just stands. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Then, whether he is or not, he squints at her, "Did you...come by my place when I was sick?"
The door closes behind him, a quiet click as it latches shut, and Mystique turns to face him. "Yes. You don't remember?"
"A bit," Pyro shakes his head, still not confident in the answer. "It's all pretty foggy, but I thought I remembered talking to you at one point. Then there was the medicine, but I didn't know if it was maybe something I already had in the cubby or not. You /did/ bring me some medicine, right?"
"Yes." Her lips turn up just slightly as Mystique moves past him and further into the room. "Bubblegum flavored. You requested it."
"I did? Really?" Pyro has no recollection of this, though he takes several moments trying to remember and still coming up blank. He gives up on that, though, taking a deep breath before asking, "Do you remember what it was? I left the bottle back in the city, and...I think it's doing something strange to me."
Mystique's gaze turns back to Pyro, abruptly sharpened with concern. "Strange? How do you mean?"
"It's my...powers," he replies, swallowing hard, the one cause for true terrifying fear around this place. "They're not working right. All crazy. Sometimes there just," his voice drops, with a barely voiced "not there."
Mystique takes half a step forward, brows lowered and expression gone darkly serious. "Show me."
"Okay," Pyro says hesitantly, flicking open the lighter. The flame sits there sullenly, despite Pyro's glaring at it, frantically trying to sense the connection. Nothing, nothing. There! His mind leaps at it, reaching. The flame flickers, bends, then explodes in his hand, a fireball appearing. Pyro shouts, jerking his hand back in pain and the fire goes flying past toward the dry timber of her bed.
Mystique's eyes fix tight on that flickering flame, watching for a moment before her gaze shifts to watch Pyro's face instead. Thus it is that she's a moment slower than is perhaps ideal in her reaction to the flying fireball, although reflexes are still quick. She moves in silence, already yanking at the bedside table to prevent the flames from spreading beyond the one piece of furniture. "Can you put it out?" she snaps sharply, on her way to the door.
Pyro stares at the bed, the hale hand stretched out toward it with the injured one held close to his side. His face is pale with shock, staring at it, willing it to obey. "I...I can't. There's nothing there."
Mystique doesn't wait for the rest of Pyro's response. She's already out the door and loping down the hall with long, hurried strides.
Pyro stands there, dumbly staring at the growing flames, completely at a loss for what to do with a fire that he can't wield. He tries again, and is rebuffed, a complete void, the mutant senses he's grown to rely on telling him the fire he sees in front of him simply doesn't exist.
It's several full minutes before Mystique reappears with a fire extinguisher kept in the kitchen. It's small, and there's some doubt in her mind as to how it will cope with the growing fire in her bed, but she wastes no time in applying the spray. To Pyro, she snaps a short, "There's a larger one in the warehouse, where the helicopter is parked. On the wall. Run, please."
It's several full minutes before Mystique reappears with a fire extinguisher kept in the kitchen. It's small, and there's some doubt in her mind as to how it will cope with the growing fire in her bed, but she wastes no time in applying the spray. To Pyro, she snaps a short, "There's a larger one in the warehouse, where the helicopter is parked. On the wall. Run, please." *re*
Orders. That he can do. Pyro snaps out of his daze as the words and Mystique's sample of the normal people's solution to fire sink in. "Got it." He takes of, racing down the hall and out toward the warehouses.
Mystique exhausts the small extinguisher's reserves, leaving the head of her bed smothered in a mass of white foam. Her expression is not happy.
A red-faced and out of breath Pyro returns a minute later, industrial extinguisher in hand. "What, how, this blood thing." The safety pin comes out, and he hurls it aside, training the nozzle toward the remaining flames. Under the new force, they give way, and within a few moments, the foot of the bed is covered in a similar foam. He stares, setting the extinguisher down with a thunk. "Well, /that/ was unexpected," he finally says, not breaking gaze from the bed.
"I should hope so," Mystique replies, voice extremely mildl.
"I don't know what happened," Pyro says, slowly turning to face her. "It's been acting strange but not like this." He looks down at his blistered hand, slowly turning it over. "It was just out of control."
Mystique turns to study Pyro. She steps forward to take his hand in hers, lifting it for a closer inspection with a grasp that's firm, if careful. "Have you seen Ellen since you've returned?"
"No," Pyro finally admits. "I mean, I was sick at first, but it was getting better. Then...this stuff. And I hoped it would go away, but it isn't."
Mystique looses his hand and steps back, turned to consider her ruined bed with a frown. "The news has suggested that this virus that has been spreading may have particularly adverse affects on mutants."
"You think that's what I had? Have?" Pyro asks, wincing as he moves his hand back close to him. "Guess it would explain."
"It would explain the bed," Mystique comments blandly. "You should see Ellen now anyway. She can see to your hand."
"Okay," Pyro gives a single nod of agreement. "A bit of relief knowing I can still sense it sometimes. But I'm sorry about the bed," he adds quickly.
"You can clean it up when you're well," Mystique allows. Her gaze locks on Pyro, thoughtful for a moment. "Is that the only difficulty?"
"The only difficulty," Pyro repeats dully. "Pretty big one, but yes, the only one."
"Pyro." Mystique's brows lift slightly as her gaze remains locked on him.
"I'm going, I'm going," Pyro lifts his hands in acquiescence. "I'm not delusional anymore, fever's been gone for days. I just can't sense fire or control it when I can, apparently."
"That is not," Mystique answers clearly, "what I was going to say."
"Oh." Pyro says, looking at her carefully. "Okay...?"
Mystique returns his gaze evenly, yellow eyes bright on his. "It will come back."
"Oh," Pyro blinks at her, at a loss for anything other than basic vowel sounds. "Uh, thanks. Just hop- of course, you're right."
"It will," she states again, and her voice holds deep conviction as she says it. "Now go find Ellen."
"Will do," Pyro says, and he's off before she might change her mind. Or get another glance at the bed.
It's bitter cold out in upstate New York, and only growing colder as the sun sets and night approaches. Still, Pyro can be found outside, where he's built a roaring fire one of the fire pit. The old-fashioned way, one he has little enough practice with, but it finally has become a source of at least some heat. He's crouched beside it, hands extended as close as the skin can bear.
Mystique steps out into this chill wrapped in a long coat, real clothing for once that stands stark against the blue of her skin. Her gaze is drawn toward the fire and she quickly followed with long, even strides.
Pyro looks up at the approaching figure. "Oh, hey," he greets. "Didn't expect anyone else brave enough to be out tonight." He pauses, then adds a careful, "Sorry again about the other night."
"It provided an excuse to obtain a new bed," Mystique answers, expression barely breaking into a smile as she closes in on him. Her step is slightly uneven as she favors her left leg a touch. "You saw Ellen?"
"Yeah. Nothing really to do," he shrugs, turning back to face the fire. "Nothing wrong with me now. The virus or whatever it was is gone. Took my control with it. Though at least I know the power's not gone completely." There. The fire flares in response, shining brighter a moment as he concentrates, then it fades back to a normal fire. "Bloody..."
"You're still having trouble, then." Mystique circles around, and she lowers herself to the ground with a careful shift of her weight.
"Mostly, yes," Pyro admits, a sigh at the fire before he turns back to her. "Sometimes it's there, sometimes it's not. And then there's the other night. It's so weird. Been such a part of me, not having it there. Like missing an arm or something."
Mystique's lips curl a bit tighter and she angles her head toward Pyro. "I know what you mean."
"Really?" Pyro asks, sliding back from the fire to settle on one of the surrounding stumps. "You ever lost your powers?"
There is deep hesitation from Mystique's direction, and she raises a chilled hand toward the fire.
"Not used to being cold when there's fire around," Pyro says after a minute, not pushing the issue.
"Perhaps we should go inside," Mystique suggests with quiet amusement.
"Not until I get this tonight."
"Do not push it, Pyro. It is either there, or it is not."
"It has to be there," Pyro scowls, partly at the fire, partly at himself. "What good am I if it's not?"
"Give it time."
"Because patience has /always/ been one of my strengths."
"I'm told it's a virtue."
"Only patient people say that."
Mystique's smile spreads a touch wider and yellow eyes track toward Pyro. After a moment's silence, she pushes herself upward to start with careful precision. "Come inside."
Pyro stands, not going to argue. The fire gets a glare, and his eyes widen slightly before the fire goes out entirely. He rolls his eyes, turning back to Mystique. "Wish I could say that was entirely intentional. Mostly, though. Mostly."
"It will come back," Mystique tells him, firm and confident. "You have not lost it. It's merely being tempermental, at the moment."
"Better be soon," is Pyro's comment before stepping out of the fire ring and heading back toward the warmth inside.
Mystique is a bit slower to follow. She stands instead, studying the ashes of the fire before her, and then nods as she turns back to the Warehouse.
In the absence of fiery goodness, Pyro's found himself in the weight room, where he's currently attacking inclined situps with a vengance. No music, no distractions, just a long set of repetitions.
Toad wanders in, decked out in workout gear. His usual booted feet sport grungy tennis shoes and his cargo gear is absent to reveal loose sweatpants below a shirtless torso. Toad slows up as he notices the other. "Allo," he murmurs quietly as he starts for the weight rack.
"Hey, mate," Pyro gasps between situps. He cranks out another five, then falls back on the bench, lying there a moment before freeing his knees and turning to face the other. And noticing the shirtless state. "Aww, yer not going to get gunk all over the benches again, are ya?"
Toad narrows his eyes as he tests out one of the free weights, curling his fingers around it and hefting it up. "Only if yer promise not to 'ave a 'nother lit'l accident an' set the whole bloody place on fire."
"I'll do my best," Pyro says, lifting a hand, palm facing outward in some mock oath. "Just not doing much practing inside at all last few days," he admits, grabbing a towel from the floor and wiping his face and neck off. "Figures my powers'd go all fritz on the bloody coldest week of the year."
Toad flips the weight into the other hand, grabbing another of the same marking and turning to Pyro. "Figures," he agrees lazily. "Dun' sound much like you got the proper training as a pup, now did'jer? S'much as that school o'yers boasts..."
Pyro scowls at the mention of his past. "They ain't got nothing to do with it. All my real training I did myself, anyways." He tosses the towel aside, slipping his knees back into the holds and laying back down the incline. "Bloody virus or whatever Mystique says it is."
"Eh, you flippin' sort wit' yer 'orrible immune systems. From eatin' all that ruddy fancy food, that is. Ain't nothin' gonna bother /me/. 'Aven't gotten sick in an age." Toad pumps his arms slowly, letting the elbows roll out the weight held in his hands.
"Yeah, well, not all of us have a stomach for stuff with the feathers still /on/ it," Pyro says, a half choked laugh before starting his next set. Abs of steel, here we come.
Toad croaks with amusement. "Likely why you get sick as a dog." He wanders closer, eyes locked in on the younger mutant.
"Birds...have lice," Pyro says between movements. "S'why...we're not...supposed to touch them. Didn't...no one...ever tell you that?"
Toad doesn't look impressed. "Lice add a nice texture to 'em. I'll rustle you up a bowl so you can try 'em, yeah?"
"I prefer my poultry deloused, thanks very much," Pyro says, collapsing back against the bench and staring up at the ceiling. "And preferrably with a few less diseases than those pigeons roosting outside that old apartment."
"If it makes you feel better," Toad starts, leaning forward and sniffing in Pyro's direction. "You look a bit too diseased fer me ter eat."
"Good to know," Pyro tips his head to the side and eyes the other. "Wonder how long 'fore we get back to the city."
Toad grunts, clacking the weight together as he pauses. "'Opefully never."
Pyro snorts. "Not that this place isn't half bad now that we've got electricity and water," he says, rolling his eyes, "But some of us like to actually have stuff to /do/."
"Yeah, like wot, mate? Wot is there you 'ave ter do?" Toad sneers, crouching down and letting the weights settle on the ground.
"Movies. Bars. Ladies," Pyro rattles off some to name a few. He makes a half-crunch, holding himself suspended for several seconds before slowly beginning to let his weight back down.
"'Ope yer talkin' about movies about bars an' ladies... 'cause you ain't seen the inside of either!" Toad rocks with a snicker, rolling the weights away from him as he starts to slip his shoes off.
"You're just jealous of anyone without yer ugly mug," Pyro snickers right back at him, again pausing mid-situp to hold the position.
Toad wiggles his toes, setting his hands back behind him for support. "Yer a peach," he says dully, reaching with a foot and curling his sticky toes around the bar of the weight. The other scoots up to help lift it into the air. He rolls onto his back and starts pumping the iron with his legs.
"Right back atcha, mate," Pyro says, sliding off the bench. His direction is interrupted, watching the other. "I will never get over that," he says, shaking his head and heading over toward the benchpress.
Toad waits until the foot has the one weight set before the other slinks down to snag the other and pull it up as well. "What, me being amazing? Yeah, I know. It's blinkin' brilliant."
"Bloody right you are," Pyro chuckles, beginning to toss plates onto the bar. "If my legs were that strong, I couldn't walk, they'd be so thick."
Toad smirks, peddling his legs a few times clockwise and counter clockwise. "I pull 'em off well. Walk on walls an' everything. But... eh, yer got yer uses, I 'pose. Like shootin' fire out'cher ass."
"Don't remind me," Pyro grumbles, sliding onto the bench. "Sorta like...you missing your tongue, I suppose. Whatever would we do if you weren't able to mock us every day?"
"'Ell if I know. Probably let yer 'eads get so big that yer fall right on yer faces, you would." Toad's knees lower down into his chest and he grabs the weights off his feet. His legs straighten out and fall back to the mat.
"That's exactly right," Pyro snickers. He falls silent, focusing on the bar above, then lifts it off the braces, falling into a laboured set.
Toad moves to another machine, working it in silence until he finally turns and stands up. He scratches the smooth skin under his belly button as he picks a small towel off the stack of fresh ones in the corner of the room. "Dun' overdo yerself," Toad murmurs, heading towards the door.
"I...can handle it," Pyro says to the ceiling above, sweat beading up on his forehead as he focuses on getting the bar up just one more time. It clatters back to the rack, and he sits, glancing around.
From beyond the weight room there is the ribbiting snorfle of amusement.