The new girl
ICly locked to self
I swear, sometimes, that someone else is pulling the strings. See, when you're writing a story, coincidence is a great way to get your hero in trouble. Can't get them out except throuh some bloody hard work, but random encounters? Great ways to cause problems for them.
So who the heck is writing these 'coincidences' into my life? Seems more than a little odd that I bump into this girl in Central Park, not a couple days later 'happen' to decide to eat at the BK where she works. And then as we start talking, discover that not only is she a mutant, but that Jean has already recruited her to Xavier's. Feels like there's some mind games going on sometimes around this place. Because if this were some story I was writing, you could bet there'd be some nefarious schemer behind it all.
So no Alyssa's at Xavier's. And I'm going to her prom with her. Which maybe I shouldn't have agreed to do, but she seemed so... dejected. Couldn't let her talk to the floral arrangements, as she put it, all night.
Except now, I think I've gotten myself in over my head. Because I'm pretty sure she's crushing on me. Or at least if the ragging the other students are giving me is any sign. Man, last thing I need right now is... girl troubles. Eh, she'll get over it soon enough, I guess.
Central Park South
Lazy Sunday late afternoon. John's sitting on a large rock a little off the main pathway, his shoes kicked off, lounging on the sun-warmed rock. Apparantly it's even warm enough that the jacket has been shorn and sits off to one side, atop it book and the standard spiral-bound notebook, currently forgotten as he watches the small boats making their way across the reservoir not too far off.
Kyle makes his way down one of the many paths, his rubber soles makeing soft, plodding sounds everytime they come across a cobble on the stone path he travels. His face seems rather melancholy, mouth set straight, his face long and pale, and his eyes only held partially open. Dispite the somewhat fatigued look, his eyes continually look about, glancing high and low through the tree's and along the path.
Alyssa makes her way along the path, mostly watching her shoes, or the grass near the edges of the path. She's out of her work uniform, though her mode of dress still speaks of something not-quite institutional: smart white blouse and a pleated black skirt, combined with white kneesocks and black mary janes. Looking up, finally, she catches sight of John, watching the boats. Veering off the path, she wanders his way, and offers a quiet, southwest-flavored, "Hello."
John glances up at the greeting, shaken from his reverie. The greeting itself, even moreso than the accent, gives her away as not from around here. Most the time, people just walk on by, minding their own business. But John's not from around here either, so maybe the greeting doesn't creep him out so much. Or maybe he's just in a good mood--it is a gorgeous day, after all. "G'day," he offers in return, not quite quiet, but definitely Aussie in tone--maybe even a bit more than usual for the lady. He swings a leg around to turn slightly in her direction.
Kyle continues his way along the path, the environment becoming a bit more scented like the rest of the city as he leaves the midst of the park. His eyes continue to drift on and on, though now his fingers on his left hand move to his right arms wrist, twisting at a small, bronze key. "Where," he thought, in a voice he imagined as elegant, "should I go now...the clubs are dry and its too early to return home..." He always had this 'inner' voice and it almost always spoke.
Alyssa can't resist a smile as she places the accent as, "Australian?" She asks with the exuberance of someone who's never been out of the country, but dreams of one day doing so. She is, after all, /almost/ seventeen. One hand reaches up to flick stray wisps of hair back behind her ear, and she offers, "I'm Alyssa. You looked kinda friendly, so.." She shrugs, and looks back up, scanning the park for a moment. Kyle is noticed walking, and she offers him a smile, then returns to her conversation. "I didn't.. disturb you, did I?"
"That'd be me," John says with a quick grin. "And you are obviously not from around here, but I'm horrible with US accents. Only now can start to hear them apart, but no idea where it's from." His gaze trails off along with hers, offering a pleasant nod to Kyle, then back to Alyssa. "Wasn't doing anything. Just burning some time. So I'm 'kinda friendly,' eh? Well, I'll try not to blow that opinion."
Kyle takes notice to the various movements in the corner of his eyes, and gives a short look over to John and Alyssa, watching a moment to take them in. He holds his index and middle finger up, the others moving down on his right hand, and gives a stylized wave to both of them and a fairly weak smile. "Who are they? Do they know me or something?"
Alyssa returns the wave, having caught it with her periferal vision as she answers, "Phoenix. That's out in Arizona," She offers him another smile, which is kinda cute in a braces kind of way. "Do /you/ have a name, too? Or are you just gonna be the 'kinda friendly lookin' guy in the park?'" As to blowing that opinion, Alyssa's optimistic -- everyone's nice until they try to mug her.
Nope, John doesn't know either of them. He's just in a kinda friendly mood, and from his vantage point, he catches Kyle's wave and returns it with a yes-I'm-acknowledging-you smile as opposed to a smile-as-I-walk-by-so-I-don't-feel-guily smile. "Arizona is... west, right? I should have said I suck at US geography too. And I'm John," he offers from atop his rock. "And you'll have to forgive me for not climbing down. No shoes," he offers sheepishly.
Kyle glances his eyes from John to Alyssa before looking away. He now stands stationary, staring out at one of the boats on the water. "What a suck up...he's flirting right off the bat. Can you beleive that?" Kyle nodded at his own question. "And that girl...now thats just weird."
Alyssa peers up at John-on-the-rock, and nods. "Yeah, it's west. Out by California, and all." She grins again, and asks, "Did you have shoes when you got up there?" She's not necessarily trying to get him to come down, just carrying on converation. "Is it comfortable up there?" The fact that Kyle has done nothing so far other than look at them makes her a little bit nervous -- and if John's paying /very/ close attention, he might notice a flicker over her eyes. But.. probably not.
Naw, John is a teenager, and male. Which means of course he is going to flirt a bit, and no, his observational skills while said flirting are nil. He picks up one of the shoes, dangling it from a hand by the laces. "Yeah, I don't walk around barefoot through the city much. That's just scary. And comfortable enough. Nice view, if nothing else. Room up here, if you want." Since Kyle is still standing there, John offers a quick peering wave of his own. Read: introduce yourself or move on, mate.
Kyle closes his eyes momentarilly. "Did he just..." his mind was ablaze with laughter. He turns his head, looking back at John and Alyssa, a dim smirk playing over his lips. "He did...oh wow, he did..." Kyle's lips now parted, reveiling perfectly white teeth and a bit of air straining through his teeth; a kind of a silent chuckle.
For Aly, flirting is like breathing -- she doesn't really realize she's doing it. So is the nature of teenaged girls. John's mention that there's room on the rock sets her to thinking, and then she shrugs slightly to herself, and starts to climb up. Probably not the wisest decision, considering her outfit, but it seems like the best one at the time. Settling by him, she offers another smile, accompanied by a quiet, "Thanks." Aww. /Now/ she gets quiet. Kyle is still considered, and then she puts the question to John, "Is he.. laughing at us?"
John squints over at the other guy. "I dunno," he mutters back to her, then pulls himself up a little straighter, because from atop the rock, he definitely needs additional height to make a point, and calls out a quick questioning "Hullo...?"
Kyle smiles a bit more, elegant and smooth voice still speaking things aloud in his mind. "Ha ha...would you look at that, the wittle wovebirds have actually noticed you. Go on, introduce yourself." While this was, indeed, Kyle speaking to himself, it was as if another person was urging him on, and he stepped forward, following a side trail to the area at which the two sat. Once again he gave a wave, and then, with a questioning look (well practiced at that) spreading over his features, he began to let his left hand fly. "H-E-L-L-O" His right hand now jutted a thumb into his yellow shirt while his left hand continued. "K-Y-L-E"
Alyssa quietly watches as Kyle approaches, head tilting to one side as his fingers start to fly. She mouths the letters to herself, then breaks into a slightly more settled smile. "Kyle!" There's a note of triumph in her voice for a moment, and then she frowns in concentration, painstakingly spelling out, "A-L-Y-S-S-A." She nudges John gently with her elbow, and asks, "Do you know any sign language? I've got letters, but that's about it."
Ah, that explains so much. Not that it helps John any. He watches the letters, trying to piece them together, at least enough to recognize the greeting. "I, uh, know a few. 'Hi,' 'Bye,' 'Dude,' and oddly enough, 'Shut up.' Inside joke, sorry." He attempts to spell out his own name, though manages to come out with "J-A-H-N." Way to go. "Uh, sorry if this sounds stupid, can you hear?" And like most folk who know no better, John does ask the question in a fairly loud voice. As if that will somehow help if he can't.
Kyle grins widly at John as he speaks, but gives a nod back. In his mind the words, "Why do people always do that...", in his hand "J-O-H-N". Even mute people can correct people. He spots the notebook in John's hand then and motions for it with an open hand, the other signing out 'please' with a single motion.
"You'll have to teach me that last one, one of these days," Alyssa replies to John -- apparently, she doesn't realize this means they'll have to engineer another meeting. Silly girl. Kyle is smiled at a little more broadly, and she wiggles her fingers at him. "Hi, Kyle," is said, in a surprisingly moderate tone.
John's eyes flicker to his notebook, slightly panicked for just a moment. Surrender that. Umm... He starts to shake his head, then biting his lip, reaches down and tears several sheets of paper from the book. What to write on. Finally, he lays them on top of the notebook and leans down from the rock to pass the package to Kyle. On leaning back, his other hand reaches behind him to pull his jacket toward him, patting the lighter bulge in his pocket for reassurance. Don't try to run with that, mate. John has /secrets/.
Kyle takes the bundle away from Johns hands and gives a short nod before pulling a pen from his pants pockets. An ink pen, sleek and cobalt in colour with a golden clip. He writes a few things down on one of the blank, torn pages, and hands the sheet back up to John. "I can't speak, but I can hear fine. You dont need to speak so loudly. Got something special in this book or something? Look awefully reluctant." Despite the speed at which the words were written, the script was rather good, showing the signs of a steady hand. On another sheet of paper he writes out "Shut up is pretty easy. You usually just wave your hand as if dismissing someone and glare. The middle finger is also an option. Once again, hello. A pleasure to meet you." He hands this slip to Alyssa and drops his head in a nod.
Alyssa scans her page quickly, and can't help but laugh, admitting, "Yes, that I /do/ know. Prefer not to use it, however." She makes a move to show her page to John, leaning over and eyeing his -- she doesn't need the proximity to see, but rather to ask, in a sidebar kind of way, "Writer, or artist?" In her experience, those are generally the ones most reluctant to share. The reach toward the jacket is noted, and she tilts her head slightly, but refrains from questioning.
Heck, is he /that/ obvious? Gonna have to work on that. "Writer, and just stuff," he replies, which is hopefully enough of an answer for both of them. He tries not to glower /too/ much, although that's quickly replaced by a smirk at Kyle's note. "I didn't realise that /that/ was still sign language," he comments, a bit more normal volume, though still probably a bit louder than necessary.
Kyle nods his head once, rather quickly, in response to John's statement, a smug expression taking over his features. He signs out, "I'm pretty sure that it is, works for most people" quickly, even though he is next to certain that neither will understand. He twists the bottom of his pen, putting the tip back inside, and places the object into the pocket of his pants; the place where he first withdrew it. "These people obviously know very little...they're so simple..." this, again, is spoken in his mind, but doesn't change his visible expressions any.
Alyssa doesn't catch all of the signing, though she still attempts to follow it, frowning slightly as she doesn't get it. she offers Kyle a helpless little shrug, and a quiet, "I'm sorry?" To John, however, she reaches out, her fingers just brushing against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have presumed, I.." she trails off, then offers an apologetic, "At least I was right?"
John isn't really riled up about that, more just over-possessiveness about the notebook, which is fairly obvious since his eyes haven't left it for more than 10 seconds since relinquishing control. "Aw, s'okay," he manages. He doesn't manage to get any of that last bit from Kyle either.
Its one of those days... and the woman calledblythe walks the park seaking relaxation and escape. Of course that is the point of the park now isnt it. Running a hand through her blue hued locks blythe takes in her surroundings as she makes her way along the path and stops noting the people a short distance away momentarily mesmerised by something as her oddly empty looking black eyes play over the crowd and a gentle breeze whisks its way through the area.
"Of course, they dont get any of this..." Kyles face continues to keep its look, though inside he grows annoyed. "You cant blame them, I guess..." Kyles eyes, momentarilly destracted by some movement, focus in on the distance and take note of Blythe. "Asian..." The smile on his face grew a little wider, "...cute. Oh well." He returned his vision to those around him and makes a few more signals, slowly, spelling out "I-H-A-V-E-T-O-G-E-T-G-O-I-N-G" and he finishes it off with a more simple wave of his hand.
Alyssa will presume that Kyle handed the notebook back up to John before he left, and as such, she leans over to look at it. Without making a move toward it, she quietly mentions, "I think it's kinda neat that you're a writer." She lifts a hand, but only to tuck another slightly windswept bit of hair back behind her ear, as she offers a shy sort of smile, "That was always my favorite thing about English class -- getting to write for it." Blythe hasn't been noticed yet, as this /is/ New York. Blue hair isn't all that exciting -- and Alyssa's talking to a particularly charming young man.
Particularly charming? John? Well, he's /never/ been called that before. Must be the accent. Yeah, chicks dig the accent. John stuffs the notebook quickly under his jacket. "Yeah, I like to write. Mostly why I came here. Hope I can get a job after I get out of school doing... well, something."
Alyssa happens to dig people who actually talk to her, and don't treat her like a kid just because the braces make her look a bit younger than she actually is. The accent probably helped, though. And the notebook. And.. a lot of things. She twists around to watch as John shoves the notebook under his jacket, and hypothesizes, "You don't like sharing."
"Eh, it's actually my journal," John confides. Which will hopefully be explanation enough. "Rather not it get all around New York, that's all." Although the noticable difference in anxiety level probably says something entirely different.
Alyssa ohhhs quietly, and subsides before offering, almost too quietly, "If you'd ever.. like to hang out sometime? Or, y'know, something? I could maybe give you my number.." Because New York is a big place, and Alyssa still doesn't have any real friends, even after three years. "You don't seem like you're going to drag me off and kill me in the middle of the night, or anything.." Way to go, Aly.
Ooo, a number for his little book. 'A,' meaning singular, of course. John blinks, pulling the notebook out and scribbling down a current number of his own and tearing off the corner of the page and handing it to her. "Eh, here's mine too." He extends the book for her to enter her own if she wants. "And no, never killed anyone in the night yet," he adds with a wink.
Alyssa's relief at not being blown off for once is almost tangible, and she accepts the bit of paper with the number almost gleefully, then folds it up and sticks it.. well, we won't mention where she sticks it. Apparently, someone forgot to give her pockets. "Thanks," is murmured as she grins up at him, and accepts the notebook with an eerie kind of reverence. Ooh. She gets to /touch/ it. Her name is printed carefully, 'Alyssa Elizabeth Carter,' and below it is a string of numbers. "That's my house. If you get my mom or dad, just leave a message for me, okay? They're usually pretty good at relaying messages."
Blythe arches an eyebrow, catching herself staring rather blankly in the general direction of the others, she steps forward, blinking ther empty looking eyes a couple times. *sigh* as she nears the others she takes a wider breadth around them and moves off the beaten path a bit. Settling in the grass in the general vicinity.
"Will do," and with that, John quickly slips his shoes on, just tucking the laces in without bothering to tie them, grabs his jacket and book and hops off the rock. "Nice to meet ya." And with that, he's gone.
It's a Burger King. Really. Which isn't saying much, because what's to identify one fast food establishment from another, except for the menus and the signs outside and on the windows. event he buildings all look the same after a while, one chain buying out another's location, and so on. There are a few people in line, two registers open, one of which is manned by a slightly exasperated brunette who still maintains a ready smile. "Welcome to Burger King, may I take your or-- no, sir, I'm afraid we don't sell Big Macs -- that would be McDonald's. Would you possibly like a Whopper, instead?" Yes, this is Alyssa's life.
Give me food. John's stomach rumbles as he pushes open the door to the burger joint and joins the waiting line. He already knows what he's ordering, so no need to look at the menu. Instead, he stares downward, absently flicking his lighter open and closed. They have whole grills of flames out back---certainly no one will comment on a single flickering one out front. Not that he's doing it to make trouble. Just... habit, y'know?
Alyssa likes people who know what they're ordering before they walk in her doors -- they make her life a heck of a lot easier. Fortunately for her, Mr. Big Mac seems to be the most unsure of her customers today, and the line moves quickly. This results in bringing John closer to her register (providing he's moving witht he flow of the line, and not standing there like a lump). She notices the lighter before the face, and announces, in a resigned sort of voice. "I'm sorry, but there's no smoking inside. May I take your orde--" And that's the point where she looks up, and blushes. Way to go, Alyssa. Harrass the nice writer boy you met yesterday in the park. "John?"
John is paying enough attention to move forward a step or two with each satisfied customer. At the smoking line, he looks up, smartass remark on the tip of his tongue, cut short only by recognition of the face. He slips the lighter back into his pocket, moving over to her register. "Uh, hey, Alyssa," he says, name coming back to him fairly quickly. "Eh, wasn't smoking, just... fooling around. So you work here?" Well, duh...
Alyssa nods, ducking slightly over her register. "Fooling around's okay, so long as you don't light up. We've had some problems with that in the past. And, yeah. Every day after school, except for Fridays. Do you know what you want?" She finally looks up at him as she asks, and grins, "I'm off it a bit, if you don't mind company that smells like french fry grease." Fingers are poised over the keys of the register, waiting for his order.
"Yeah, no problem," John says, not bothering to elaborate further. "That's cool. Least it makes you some money, hmm? And..." he trails off, glancing up at the board above, just to make sure it hasn't changed, "I'll have that Number 3 combo. With a coke." He glances over his shoulder, making sure there are tables available. "Yeah, I'm not in any hurry to get back. Just over there eating then. How soon's 'a bit?'"
Alyssa punches the appropriate buttons, then mentiones with something of a self depreciating grin, "Yeah, I guess it's alright. I feel horribly overqualified, though. There are /pictures/ on the buttons." And here I'm going to make up a price, because the Burger King website was no help at all. "With tax, that comes to six-thirteen, and 'a bit,'" eyes flick up to the clock at the back of the resturaunt, and she grins, "Is in about fifteen minutes."
John peers over at the register, smirking slightly. "Yeah, but it takes a bit of schooling to interpret those symbols. Is that a burger or... a balled up sock? I'll have one of those." He fishes several crumpled ones out of his pockey, passing them her way. "M'kay, I think I can make the fries last that long then."
Alyssa rolls her eyes. "That's a burger, thank you." Accepting the ones, she rings up the sale, tucks them away, and fishes out his change. This is handed over along with his receipt, and she gives him another smile. "You're number eighty-one. Should be ready in just a few minutes." In the meantime, he can either hang out in the quasi-lobby, or go find his seat.
John wanders off to the corner, receipt in hand. He finds a table, sliding into a seat and laying the receipt down. The jacket is shrugged off, and the notebook flops open to a blank page. He doesn't write just yet, though, instead just stares out the window at the people walking by.
And lo and behold, about five minutes later -- give or take a few, John's food arrives. This isn't quite procedure, as usually numbers are called and people have to come up to get their orders. "Number three combo, and a Coke.." The tray is slid onto the table, and Alyssa grins down at him. "I managed to get my manager to let me off a bit early -- I never ask, and I told him I'd skip one of my breaks, tomorrow."
"Oh, personal delivery. I bet you do this for all your customers," John grins as he looks up from a still blank page. Writer's block, oy. "I'm not stalking, you really, just in case you were wondering."
Alyssa eyes the blank page for a moment, then seats herself with a shy grin. "Only the cute ones who're nice to me in parks." She shakes her head in response to the question, and grins a little more confidently, this time. "I wasn't -- I hadn't told you where I worked, remember? And it works out okay. I was going to try calling you, after work." Because she honestly has nothing better to do. "Are you still in school?" Alyssa, queen of small-talk.
John smirks slightly at that. I'm cute, I'm cute. She said I'm cute.... "I'd offer you fries fries, but I guess you're probably sick of them. Still, if you want..." he gives the container a little nudge between them, slowly unwrapping his burger. "For another four weeks, I am. Then done." That part has no hiding the anticipation there. He folds back the paper and bites into the hamburger. "You?" he manages a moment later after swallowing, reaching for a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth.
Alyssa grins. "Nah, fries are my one weakness. Them, and the little ice cream cone thingers. It's the burgers that I'm sick of." Apparently, that doesn't stop her from carrying on intelligent conversation with someone eating one. Reaching out to snag a fry, she makes a slightly envious noise. "Four weeks? Lucky. I've got about that, plus another year. I'm a junior." She nibbles on the fry, then adds, "I'm hoping to transfer out, though. The sooner the better. Where do you go?"
It's odd that one of the most common questions amongst highschoolers should also be one of the most difficult. "Eh," John says, pausing to munch a couple fries himself. "Small private school. You'd not've heard of it." There's a slight grimace on the word 'private.' "M'not really that smart or anything; just worked out that way so I could come to school here. How about you?" And yes, let's quickly turn the conversation on its head.
Alyssa shrugs. "Public. They're all the same, really. But I'm hoping to get to transfer to a private school." The last two words are slowed as if she's processing something, and then she tilts her head to one side. "I'd never heard about it 'til about a week a go, when.. I guess you could say a recruiter showed up in my living room. Drove a /wicked/ cool car, though." She steals another fry, then shrugs. "Guess I'm lucky. I hate where I am, right now."
"Recruiter, hmm?" John asks between bites. "You didn't say /you/ were a genious. People out wanting to get you to their schools. You had any college offers yet? Dang, maybe I /should/ have pretended to be smart then."
Alyssa rapidly shakes her head, and stutters out, "I, I'm not a genious. I'm not even passing /pre-calc/. But I'm--" Er. She doubleblinks, and only one set of 'lids slides back open. Pupils narrow slightly, as well -- all of this is reflexive, unfortunately for her, and a sign of nervousness. "...just.. lucky," is the rather lame followup.
"Pre-calc? Sounds pretty... smart... to me..." John trails off, trying not to look too closely at her face a moment. Ho-hum. Recruiter. Wicked cool cars. "Lucky. Yeah." He mutters, suddenly digging into the burger with flourish.
Alyssa swallows hard, and suddenly becomes very, very interested in the french fries. "Yeah, lucky. An' I tested /into/ pre-calc. That doesn't mean I'm gonna do anything but fail it miserably. Probably have to repeat it, which'll suck." Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look at hi-- "I think I need to start wearing sunglasses. Everywhere."
John frowns slightly, though for a moment it could be at the huge bite of pickle as much as anything else. "You shouldn't have to," is all he says for a moment, not elaborating any further yet. And if he squeezes that burger any harder, it just might pop out of the wrapper into his lap.
"If you don't like pickles, you should have said something." Alyssa's not looking directly at him -- no, rather, she's looking up at him through her eyelashes, attention still aparently focused on the french fries. In regards to his comment, however, "I'd like to keep my job, though."
"Eh, they're fine. Just not all at once," John says, still frowning. "You do a good job, right? Stupid people. If they fired me over...something stupid like that... I'd burn the place down." Yes, slightly agitated. On her account, of course. "When?" he quickly adds. Keep her answering questions and she'll ask none of her own.
John's not the only one agitated, but Alyssa just nods slowly, "Yeah, yeah I do. I mean, it's a decent enough job. A trained monkey could do it." Slowly, she raises her head, and looks at him, head tilted to one side. "When? About a week ago." Gaze drops again, and she casually mentions, "You see the fine print on the sign n the window? The one across the lobby. It says.." Eyes flick over, and she scans it once, "Copyright 2003, 2004, 2005." Back to the french fries. "You?"
Time to come clean. Because you shouldn't have to hide. And if it were any other restaurant, John might give a bit of a show. Just because. It's a pity too, what with all those flame-broiled grills out back. It's amazing how he can go from cheery to surly in such a short period of time. He reaches to the bench beside him, slipping the lighter from a pocket, and sets it on the table between them. "I don't smoke. Well, often," he says, before beginning to chew on the remainder of the burger.
Alyssa blinks -- normally this time -- at the lighter on the table, and reaches out just a little bit, as if she wants to touch his hand. "I'm.. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. It's.. okay. If you don't want to hang out with me anymore." Not because she's a mutant, but because she's such a complete and utter dork. "I'll stil think your cute." Alyssa. Shut. Up.
John crooks a smile at that, then chuckles slightly. "Don't mind me," he finally says, pushing the last of the fries her way and reaching for the lighter. He slides out from the bench, slipping his jacket on. "Finish those off while I hit the dunny. If you're still here when I get back, we can go for a walk. I'll... show you my lighter, and you can tell me about this wicked cool car. Firebird?" Without waiting for an answer, he's off across the restaurant toward the restrooms.
Alyssa is most assuredly still waiting by the time John gets back -- let's see, he's found out she's a mutant, a /complete/ dork, and probably has a fair idea that she has a crush on him. Or at least thinks he's cute. Annnnd he's still willing to go for a walk with her. How can she /not/ still be waiting? She's also got a reply for him on the tip of her tongue, once he returns.
John returns several minutes later, plenty of time for her to escape if she wants to. The lighter flicking open and closed. Since she is still there, he offers a bemused smile, waiting by the door for her.
Alyssa didn't want him to think she was going to disappear -- so she holds up a hand, indicating that he should wait just a sec. She disappears back into the employee section of the joint, then pops back out, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Meeting him by the door, she offers, "Aston Martin, actually. Not Firebird." She's going to assume that the latter belongs to one of the other teachers.
It's getting to be summer, so the evenings are quite pleasant. And not quite dark. "So... recruiter, hmm?" John finally ask, a half-block later. "Hey, um... you... want to go get some coffee? I know this place..."
Alyssa would probably reach for his hand at this point, if she'd known him for more than a day. As it is, she stuffs her hands in the pockets of her pants, and looks over at him with a bit of a grin. "I guess you could call her that. I couldn't think of anything else that wouldn't give it away. Guess I kinda failed at that one, though." She looks around a bit, then back over at him, and asks, "Coffee?"
"Yeah," John says, glancing around and nodding toward the subway station a couple blocks down. "Little hike, if you have the time. If not another night."
"I've got the time. Is there a phone there? I'd need to let my mom know where I was, but.." But once Alyssa explains that she's met a boy like her, and he's nice, and.. so on and so forth, Theresa Carter isn't likely to object. "And so long as I don't stay out /too/ late.."
John nods. "Yeah, they have a payphone. And the subway's not too far, so you can get wherever home is pretty quick." With that, he begins to move in the direction of the subway. "So... Jean Grey, I'd guess then, from the Astin. She just... showed up on your door?"
Alyssa returns the nod, and grins. "Yeah, okay. That should work." She follows him, grinning as she explains. "Well, not exactly. Apparently she had contacted my parents earlier, and talked to my mother over the phone. But yeah -- one day I came home from work, and there she was, /the/ Dr. Grey, drinking tea in my living room." She drifts slightly closer to him, then admits, "I'd had a feeling soemthing was up, for a little while.. but she sort of.. confirmed it. Apparently all I do is blink funny, and see exceptionally well, though." She's cool because she's lame.
"That's cool," John confirms. He glances around quickly. No one exceptionally close, least enough to see anything beyond a teenager playing with his lighter. Because 'shouldn't' doesn't count for anything. Out comes the lighter, and with a practiced flick of the wrist, the top pops open and the flame springs up. Only for a moment, though, before it leaps from the lighter to hover atop his index finget, which he swirls around in the air, for a moment before letting the flame grow to baseball sized in his palm. Which he then makes a fist, extinguishing it. Well, not quite as simple as that, his forehead does have a thin line of sweat across it, particularly at that last little display. But his showing off has given them time to get to the subway stop, and he quickly tromps down the stairs.
The Sanctuary
Alyssa is nearly dancing by the time they get off the subway -- making inane chitchat and smalltalk (what can be made on the subway, anyway -- though being in close proximity to John for the whole ride made her happy, too) when you want to squeal about whatever you've just seen results in a very, very energetic teenager. Once they're far enough away that they're not likely to be overheard, she leans over and squeals (quietly, quietly) up at him, "That is the /coolest/ thing I have /ever/ seen!" Her expression is earnest, and excited, and she reaches -- hesitantly -- toward his hand. "Does it ever.. hurt? When you swallow it back up with your hand, like that.."
"Naw," John says with a grin, eating up the attention of a new performance. It's not all that often that he gets to show his powers to someone new--and, well, Magneto just doesn't squeal. "Well, just once," he admits. "Got to make sure I concentrate on it. If I let it go, it'll burn me just like---sticking your hand on a stove or anything else." He reaches out and taps her hand. "See, it's still cool." But then, he quickly pulls it back to his side. "M'kay, down here," he directs her down a nearby alley. "Don't worry, not going to kill you or anything."
Alyssa keeps her eyes on him, brow furrowing as he mentions that once. "Oh.. I'll try.. not to ever disturb you, or anything, when you're doing that, then." She blushes a little as he reaches out to prove that his hand's still cool, sucking in her breath a little at the touch. But then that worry's back again, as he directs her down the alley, and this time she /does/ reach for his hand. "It's.. not /you/ I'm worried about, y'know?" He's already proven himself trustworthy, at least to her.
John is either oblivious, uninterested or too busy to notice the attempt. He quickens his stride, toward a light that's spilling out. It's not a dark shady alley, really. Just one that's not of much interest unless one really is intending to come here. "Naw, nothing will bother you here," he replies, over his shoulder, then pulling open the door for her as he reaches the coffeeshop. "Ta-da."
Alyssa earnestly hopes it's either the former or the latter, and nowhere near the middle option. Either way, she sticks close by John until they reach the door, then hesitates, and finally slips inside. She blinks slowly, eyes widening slightly as she takes in the scene. Impressive. Her hand -- the one that wasn't unsucessfully groping for John's -- reaches up to slide her backpack off her shoulder, and she says quietly, "I'm gonna go change out of my uniform," because, presumably, anywhere that sells coffee logically has a bathroom, or is run by masochists, "And meet you either in the line, or at a table. Um. If you have to pay before I get back, I'll reimburse you... chai tea?" And then without waiting for an answer, she's retreating.
John crosses the room toward the counter, smirking a bit to himself. It's a nice shop, but wait until she runs into the clientele. Which from their vantage point you couldn't exactly guess at the common denominator. "I give it... oh, a minute and a half?" he murmers to himself as he slides into line. A few minutes later, he retreats to one of the tables, tea and iced mocha in hand, waiting for her return and response.
For someone who didn't know she was a mutant until a very short time ago, and just met her first Confirmed Mutant, so to speak, Alyssa handles the clientele with a measure of grace that's probably a testament to parents who taught tolerance above all, and a bit of excitement on her part. Because tails are cool. When she emerges from the bathroom, she looks much more like her normal self -- from mary janes to kneesocks (brown, this time), to pleated black skirt and a snuggly, russet-colores turtleneck. Her eyes are slightly wide as she emerges, and she scans the shop for John, finally finding him and the table. She slides into the seat across from him, drops her backpack into her lap, and starts rummaging around in it for her wallet. "Thank you, John. For bringing me.. here."
John pushes the mug of tea toward her, glancing around. Tails, ears. Fangs should be coming out tonight too, pretty soon, more literal than figurative. The latter's simply not allowed. "Yeah, helps to know you're not the only one, I guess. Nice place to beat down the depression. And besides, the coffee's good."
Alyssa quietly watches people passing back and forth, then wraps ehr hands around her mug of tea, and lifts it to blow on it, cooling it until she can take a sip. "This is an amazing place.. Amazing people.." Someone catches her eye, and she watches him or her (she's not entirely sure) pass, then returns her attention to John. Now that they're here, considering the surroundings, she figures she can ask slightly less guarded questions. "How.. did you find out?"
John works at his own coffee a minute, brow furrowing just a bit as he thinks back. "Eh... playing with matches," John says finally. "What you Americans call 7th grade. I was twelve. Just... got a bit out of hand."
Alyssa considers this for a long moment, then whistles quietly. "I was still in Arizona, when I was twelve.. what was it like?" She pauses, then shakes her head, and blushes slightly. "I mean. I don't mean to pry or anything, but it's so /different/ from mine, and it's really cool. So I'm just.. curious." She's also fairly obviously hanging on his every word, while /trying/ not to be that obvious about it.
John's face starts to border on scowl now. Not exactly, but the eyebrows are going further down as he stares at his coffee. "Wasn't all that great, really. Just... y'know." Because obviously she should know, right.
"No, John. I don't. I /don't/ know. I can't even feel when things happen, with mine. All I know is I have fantastic eyesight, and it's been getting even better, lately." Alyssa's head lowers, and she stares into her tea, then admits, "I only know about the eyelids because my mother explained when it happens."
"Well, at least that's useful," John nods, looking up, some of the scowl fading. "And safe. Yeah, I get to be cool. Was cool back home too. Soon as I burned that cat up when the fire exploded that first time. Kids thought that was very cool." Um, did someone slip some veritaserum in the coffee here? Where did /that/ come from. "So wait, your mom /explained/ it?" Ah, there's the John we know, pushing right past the awkwardness.
Alyssa snorts quietly. "Yeah, safe. Safe, safe, safe. Do you have any idea how /boring/ safe is?" Apparently, this is one of those Alyssa-things. "Or maybe I'm safe because /I'm/ boring. I dunno. You'd have to ask all the kids who've ever gone to school with me, or the boys who giggled and laughed at me when I asked them to dance." This time it's her turn to scowl down into her mug, though after a moment or two, she sigh and bloows a bit of hair up out of her face, though it settles right back down. Looking over at him, she says, "Yeah. My mom /explained/ it. She's apaprently known my whole life. Never told me, though. 'Cause it wasn't that noticeable, 'til my eyes started changing."
See, John /always/ knows how to get to the sore spots and tapdance on them. He watches Alyssa as she talks. "Well, maybe it'll turn into something cool, then. Like X-ray vision or something. You said it's getting better all the time, and things usually just start now and change as you get older. Jean might be able to tell you more." Oo, see Encouraging John, now with Random Thought action.
Alyssa needles John, John needles her, and round and round they go. "Yeah, maybe. With my luck, though? I'll end up bein' the best sign-post reader the world's ever seen. Never miss your turn, with Alyssa in the car!" She's grinning by the time she comes out with that, and leans in for another sip at her tea, peering at John over the rim. Now it's time for her ransom thought. "Do you have a girlfriend?" Blink. Blinkblink. "Wait, no! I mean. I meant.. to ask about the school.." This last trails off into a mutter, as she blushes brightly, and becomes oh so interested in her tea. Mm, tea.
John leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "Well, then, since you /meant/ to ask about the school," he starts with a smirk, "I'll not mean to answer 'Heck, no,' then proceed to mean to ask you what you want to know about the school."
Alyssa continues blushing, and if there are any telepaths in the room, they can probably hear her very loudly and fervently wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. As this rather fortunately doesn't happen, she's forced to actually address the realization that she really did just ask him that. Oh dear. His answer, however, inspires hope -- as does the tone he takes in answering. She's still blushing, though, as she says, "I'll not mean to ask why 'heck' no, then. And mean to ask.. I dunno, /everything/. Do you like it there?" Yep, still blushing.
"Because I'm gay," John says completely straight-faced. For all of seven seconds when a snicker breaks through, and he smirks at her, obviously teasing now. "Naw, the girls at school. Well, they're nice enough, but... not my type. Y'know, it's all so... 'safe,'" he says, falling back on their earlier word choice. "And... everything's a lot to explain, so how about we pick something to start with. Classes are just as hard as anywhere else, if you're wondering. 'Gifted' and all."
Alyssa's face falls for a split second before she's scrambling to cover, shooling her expression into one that doesn't convey heart-crushing disappointment. And then he laughs, and Aly just.. stares at him. Her reaction is mixed, and she makes a choked-off little sound before she finally comes up with, "I cannot /believe/ I nearly fell for that.." And then, the line of the century, "I'm not a girl at your school." Pause. "Yet." This is delivered with an equally straight face, and she doesn't start to blush until she goes for another sip of tea. Ahem. "I figured they might be -- 'cause my mom said that Dr. Grey had said not all parents were as supportive as they are.. so it's just gotta look like a regular school.. right?" She wrinkles her nose, peeking up at him as she asks, "Do you think they'll make me retake precalc? 'Cause I know I'm gonna bomb it.."
John grins widely as Alyssa, despite her comment, does apparantly fall for his statement. As for The Line (tm), John is apparantly more caught up in her closing statements. "Oh, it /is/ a regular school. Lots of homework, lots of classes. Just... other stuff too. Just being around others is good. And if you need help with your powers, well, sometimes the teachers are willing to do stuff after class. Mostly, though, just getting used to others' powers. This one guy is planning a capture the flag game toward the end of the year where everyone gets to use their powers. Tell you what, good eyesight would be much cooler for that than what I can do."
Alyssa sighs as her line goes unnoticed, then can't help but wriggle slightly. "Oh, /really/? Wow, that sounds awfully fun.. I hope I'm able to transfer, by then." Or at least come play with them, anyway. She leans back in her chair, cradling her mug of tea, and tilts her head at him. "Hey, John? I need to ask a favor of you..."
John settles down into a more comfortable position, raising an eyebrow at the favor line. "Oh don't worry. If Jean already came to talk to you, then you don't have to worry about getting in. Not that I hold much weight when it comes to stuff like that already." Unless you meant the /other/ favor, of course.
Alyssa blinks, then shakes her head. "No, no. It's not that. She just said that was a matter of time." She bites her bottom lip for a moment, then blurts out, "Okay, so it's kinda big, but kinda little, too. I need a date. To prom." She starts blushing again, then rushes out the words, "It wouldn't be like an actual date or anything, but you're nice, and you're fun to talk to, so it'd mean I wouldn't have to, y'know, talk to the floral arrangements all night, or something. I'd.. I'd pay for your ticket and everything, and I've got my license so mom said I can drive, an' you wouldn't have to wear a tux or anything, just.. come.. with me." She takes a hurried gulp of her tea, and mentally cringes for the inevitable rejection.
Awwww, how can you possibly say no to that? John may be corruptible, but he's not made of stone. Or Steal. Or whatever the immallable material of the month is. Still, he doesn't likely get the significance of the matter when he blinks, then shrugs and offers, a "Sure, why not?"
And when you're expecting rejection, and get an acceptance instead? How can you /not/ start grinning like an idiot. "Really? You'll really go with me? Wow! That's the greatest thing ever!" Yes, she's giddy. And giggling. And doing all manner of other stupid things. "Oh. Oh! I forgot to pay you for the tea.."
John blinks, truly speechless for a moment, before mumbling something to the effect of, "Oh, don't worry about it. Wasn't much." Which could be for just the tea but more likely for both. Girls. And their giggling. :sigh. "When is it?"
Alyssa coughs slightly. "Next weekend. That's not too soon, is it?" ...because asking a boy you've met twice to prom isn't moving a little bit fast, Aly. Right. She's stopped giggling, but she's still grinning over at him. "You're totally going to be better company than the floral arrangements."
John squints in thought for a moment. "Next weekend... Yea, that's fine, sure." He think a moment. "I can probably dig up a tux from someone at school, if you want." It's her night, after all. Might as well go all out.
Alyssa blushes, and stutters slightly. "Y.. you don't have to do that. I mean, you could just wear a nice shirt, and some slacks.. 'cause.. I like the jacket." And John would look terribly out of place in a tux. "But if you really want to, you can." She takes another sip of her tea, then frowns as she realizes it's emptying fast. "Huh."
"Whatever," shrugs John. "You decide. I'll give you a call sometime this week then to see what you want. We'll give all those 'normal,' 'cool' students something to be jealous of." Which, of course, sounds so much more ulterior motives than there really are.
Alyssa wouldn't mind a little bit of alterior motivating going on. She really doesn't like the school, after all. "Okay, that sounds good. I'll try to figure out.. something.. between now and then." She sets her mug down on the table, and plays with the cuff of her sweater for a minute. "So do you have any friends at the school?"
"Oh, it's small enough that you really know everyone," John says, shrugging at the question. "Most of the seniors are pretty tight. Room with a guy named Bobby, he's pretty cool. Can make ice. Kinda ironic they put us together. You'll meet them, even if you don't come until next year, I bet. People tend to hang around after they graduate."
"That's pretty cool. I think I know about.. two.. of the girls in my class on anything more than a name-to-face basis." Alyssa snorts at the irony of putting fire and ice together in one room, then carefully tilts her head to one side. "Are /you/ planning on sticking around after you graduate? ...because I wouldn't mind seeing you around." She doesn't quite blush this time, but drops her gaze once again.
"Not you too," John mock-whines. "Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do after I graduate. My parents want me to come back there for a visit. Can't make it for graduation--too expensive, but they can swing one ticket, so I'm going to go back there for a couple weeks end of June. After that... get a job here. Do some writing. Pretty much whatever I want."
"I meant that on a purely personal level. It'd /totally/ suck if I met this cute writer-guy, only to have him disappear on me soon as he graduates." Alyssa wrinkles her nose at the whine, then straightens out her head, and flashes him a grin. "Promise you'll keep in touch with me? ...no matter what?"
John shrugs at that. Though being called "cute writer-guy" does have the expected ego stroke. "Won't be hard," he comments. Which is not exactly a promise. "Like I said, kinda hard for people to ever leave there completely. I'm sure I'll be around quite a bit."
Alyssa totally thinks John is the cute writer-guy. Hands down. "That's the lamest answer ever, but I'm gonna guess it's the best I'll get out of you." She'll probably ask again after prom. "I still can't wait until I get to see the campus."
"So now I'm lame too?" John asks with a grin. "Well, let me know when you're coming and I'll show you the /rest/ of the campus. Everything the teachers wish we students /didn't/ know about." With that, he downs the last of his coffee, glancing at her cup. "Well, you want to hang out here a bit longer, or do you need to get going back? Did you ever call home? Hate for your parents to think some pyromanical axe murderer got you."
Alyssa smirks. "Only in a good way, John. Only in a good way." She peers down at her now-empty mug, and grins. "I should probably start heading home. You can come with me, if you'd like? Make sure I don't get mugged on my way home, or anything?" She shifts in her chair, moving to swing her backpack back up over her shoulder. "And don't worry, I called her. Told her I found myself a nice mutant boy, and he was taking me out for coffee." Her eyes twinkle as she tells him this, "Mentioned you're a writer, too. Besides, it's only fair. I'm going to get to see where you live, after all."
Well, that just might be moving a long a touch too fast. "Actually," he starts, pushing himself up from the table. "I... really should be getting back to campus. I, ah, can walk you to the subway station, though. Maybe on the same line, but this is the nearest one anyways."
Alyssa awws softly, "Well, it was worth a shot, anyway. The subway station should be fine. I think I can manage to get home fairly well on my own." She stands as well, grinning over at him before she waves a hand toward the door, and asks, "Shall we?"
John nods, glancing around for his stuff and tucking the notebook under one arm, leads their way out. Good night, folk.
I swear, sometimes, that someone else is pulling the strings. See, when you're writing a story, coincidence is a great way to get your hero in trouble. Can't get them out except throuh some bloody hard work, but random encounters? Great ways to cause problems for them.
So who the heck is writing these 'coincidences' into my life? Seems more than a little odd that I bump into this girl in Central Park, not a couple days later 'happen' to decide to eat at the BK where she works. And then as we start talking, discover that not only is she a mutant, but that Jean has already recruited her to Xavier's. Feels like there's some mind games going on sometimes around this place. Because if this were some story I was writing, you could bet there'd be some nefarious schemer behind it all.
So no Alyssa's at Xavier's. And I'm going to her prom with her. Which maybe I shouldn't have agreed to do, but she seemed so... dejected. Couldn't let her talk to the floral arrangements, as she put it, all night.
Except now, I think I've gotten myself in over my head. Because I'm pretty sure she's crushing on me. Or at least if the ragging the other students are giving me is any sign. Man, last thing I need right now is... girl troubles. Eh, she'll get over it soon enough, I guess.
Central Park South
Lazy Sunday late afternoon. John's sitting on a large rock a little off the main pathway, his shoes kicked off, lounging on the sun-warmed rock. Apparantly it's even warm enough that the jacket has been shorn and sits off to one side, atop it book and the standard spiral-bound notebook, currently forgotten as he watches the small boats making their way across the reservoir not too far off.
Kyle makes his way down one of the many paths, his rubber soles makeing soft, plodding sounds everytime they come across a cobble on the stone path he travels. His face seems rather melancholy, mouth set straight, his face long and pale, and his eyes only held partially open. Dispite the somewhat fatigued look, his eyes continually look about, glancing high and low through the tree's and along the path.
Alyssa makes her way along the path, mostly watching her shoes, or the grass near the edges of the path. She's out of her work uniform, though her mode of dress still speaks of something not-quite institutional: smart white blouse and a pleated black skirt, combined with white kneesocks and black mary janes. Looking up, finally, she catches sight of John, watching the boats. Veering off the path, she wanders his way, and offers a quiet, southwest-flavored, "Hello."
John glances up at the greeting, shaken from his reverie. The greeting itself, even moreso than the accent, gives her away as not from around here. Most the time, people just walk on by, minding their own business. But John's not from around here either, so maybe the greeting doesn't creep him out so much. Or maybe he's just in a good mood--it is a gorgeous day, after all. "G'day," he offers in return, not quite quiet, but definitely Aussie in tone--maybe even a bit more than usual for the lady. He swings a leg around to turn slightly in her direction.
Kyle continues his way along the path, the environment becoming a bit more scented like the rest of the city as he leaves the midst of the park. His eyes continue to drift on and on, though now his fingers on his left hand move to his right arms wrist, twisting at a small, bronze key. "Where," he thought, in a voice he imagined as elegant, "should I go now...the clubs are dry and its too early to return home..." He always had this 'inner' voice and it almost always spoke.
Alyssa can't resist a smile as she places the accent as, "Australian?" She asks with the exuberance of someone who's never been out of the country, but dreams of one day doing so. She is, after all, /almost/ seventeen. One hand reaches up to flick stray wisps of hair back behind her ear, and she offers, "I'm Alyssa. You looked kinda friendly, so.." She shrugs, and looks back up, scanning the park for a moment. Kyle is noticed walking, and she offers him a smile, then returns to her conversation. "I didn't.. disturb you, did I?"
"That'd be me," John says with a quick grin. "And you are obviously not from around here, but I'm horrible with US accents. Only now can start to hear them apart, but no idea where it's from." His gaze trails off along with hers, offering a pleasant nod to Kyle, then back to Alyssa. "Wasn't doing anything. Just burning some time. So I'm 'kinda friendly,' eh? Well, I'll try not to blow that opinion."
Kyle takes notice to the various movements in the corner of his eyes, and gives a short look over to John and Alyssa, watching a moment to take them in. He holds his index and middle finger up, the others moving down on his right hand, and gives a stylized wave to both of them and a fairly weak smile. "Who are they? Do they know me or something?"
Alyssa returns the wave, having caught it with her periferal vision as she answers, "Phoenix. That's out in Arizona," She offers him another smile, which is kinda cute in a braces kind of way. "Do /you/ have a name, too? Or are you just gonna be the 'kinda friendly lookin' guy in the park?'" As to blowing that opinion, Alyssa's optimistic -- everyone's nice until they try to mug her.
Nope, John doesn't know either of them. He's just in a kinda friendly mood, and from his vantage point, he catches Kyle's wave and returns it with a yes-I'm-acknowledging-you smile as opposed to a smile-as-I-walk-by-so-I-don't-feel-guily smile. "Arizona is... west, right? I should have said I suck at US geography too. And I'm John," he offers from atop his rock. "And you'll have to forgive me for not climbing down. No shoes," he offers sheepishly.
Kyle glances his eyes from John to Alyssa before looking away. He now stands stationary, staring out at one of the boats on the water. "What a suck up...he's flirting right off the bat. Can you beleive that?" Kyle nodded at his own question. "And that girl...now thats just weird."
Alyssa peers up at John-on-the-rock, and nods. "Yeah, it's west. Out by California, and all." She grins again, and asks, "Did you have shoes when you got up there?" She's not necessarily trying to get him to come down, just carrying on converation. "Is it comfortable up there?" The fact that Kyle has done nothing so far other than look at them makes her a little bit nervous -- and if John's paying /very/ close attention, he might notice a flicker over her eyes. But.. probably not.
Naw, John is a teenager, and male. Which means of course he is going to flirt a bit, and no, his observational skills while said flirting are nil. He picks up one of the shoes, dangling it from a hand by the laces. "Yeah, I don't walk around barefoot through the city much. That's just scary. And comfortable enough. Nice view, if nothing else. Room up here, if you want." Since Kyle is still standing there, John offers a quick peering wave of his own. Read: introduce yourself or move on, mate.
Kyle closes his eyes momentarilly. "Did he just..." his mind was ablaze with laughter. He turns his head, looking back at John and Alyssa, a dim smirk playing over his lips. "He did...oh wow, he did..." Kyle's lips now parted, reveiling perfectly white teeth and a bit of air straining through his teeth; a kind of a silent chuckle.
For Aly, flirting is like breathing -- she doesn't really realize she's doing it. So is the nature of teenaged girls. John's mention that there's room on the rock sets her to thinking, and then she shrugs slightly to herself, and starts to climb up. Probably not the wisest decision, considering her outfit, but it seems like the best one at the time. Settling by him, she offers another smile, accompanied by a quiet, "Thanks." Aww. /Now/ she gets quiet. Kyle is still considered, and then she puts the question to John, "Is he.. laughing at us?"
John squints over at the other guy. "I dunno," he mutters back to her, then pulls himself up a little straighter, because from atop the rock, he definitely needs additional height to make a point, and calls out a quick questioning "Hullo...?"
Kyle smiles a bit more, elegant and smooth voice still speaking things aloud in his mind. "Ha ha...would you look at that, the wittle wovebirds have actually noticed you. Go on, introduce yourself." While this was, indeed, Kyle speaking to himself, it was as if another person was urging him on, and he stepped forward, following a side trail to the area at which the two sat. Once again he gave a wave, and then, with a questioning look (well practiced at that) spreading over his features, he began to let his left hand fly. "H-E-L-L-O" His right hand now jutted a thumb into his yellow shirt while his left hand continued. "K-Y-L-E"
Alyssa quietly watches as Kyle approaches, head tilting to one side as his fingers start to fly. She mouths the letters to herself, then breaks into a slightly more settled smile. "Kyle!" There's a note of triumph in her voice for a moment, and then she frowns in concentration, painstakingly spelling out, "A-L-Y-S-S-A." She nudges John gently with her elbow, and asks, "Do you know any sign language? I've got letters, but that's about it."
Ah, that explains so much. Not that it helps John any. He watches the letters, trying to piece them together, at least enough to recognize the greeting. "I, uh, know a few. 'Hi,' 'Bye,' 'Dude,' and oddly enough, 'Shut up.' Inside joke, sorry." He attempts to spell out his own name, though manages to come out with "J-A-H-N." Way to go. "Uh, sorry if this sounds stupid, can you hear?" And like most folk who know no better, John does ask the question in a fairly loud voice. As if that will somehow help if he can't.
Kyle grins widly at John as he speaks, but gives a nod back. In his mind the words, "Why do people always do that...", in his hand "J-O-H-N". Even mute people can correct people. He spots the notebook in John's hand then and motions for it with an open hand, the other signing out 'please' with a single motion.
"You'll have to teach me that last one, one of these days," Alyssa replies to John -- apparently, she doesn't realize this means they'll have to engineer another meeting. Silly girl. Kyle is smiled at a little more broadly, and she wiggles her fingers at him. "Hi, Kyle," is said, in a surprisingly moderate tone.
John's eyes flicker to his notebook, slightly panicked for just a moment. Surrender that. Umm... He starts to shake his head, then biting his lip, reaches down and tears several sheets of paper from the book. What to write on. Finally, he lays them on top of the notebook and leans down from the rock to pass the package to Kyle. On leaning back, his other hand reaches behind him to pull his jacket toward him, patting the lighter bulge in his pocket for reassurance. Don't try to run with that, mate. John has /secrets/.
Kyle takes the bundle away from Johns hands and gives a short nod before pulling a pen from his pants pockets. An ink pen, sleek and cobalt in colour with a golden clip. He writes a few things down on one of the blank, torn pages, and hands the sheet back up to John. "I can't speak, but I can hear fine. You dont need to speak so loudly. Got something special in this book or something? Look awefully reluctant." Despite the speed at which the words were written, the script was rather good, showing the signs of a steady hand. On another sheet of paper he writes out "Shut up is pretty easy. You usually just wave your hand as if dismissing someone and glare. The middle finger is also an option. Once again, hello. A pleasure to meet you." He hands this slip to Alyssa and drops his head in a nod.
Alyssa scans her page quickly, and can't help but laugh, admitting, "Yes, that I /do/ know. Prefer not to use it, however." She makes a move to show her page to John, leaning over and eyeing his -- she doesn't need the proximity to see, but rather to ask, in a sidebar kind of way, "Writer, or artist?" In her experience, those are generally the ones most reluctant to share. The reach toward the jacket is noted, and she tilts her head slightly, but refrains from questioning.
Heck, is he /that/ obvious? Gonna have to work on that. "Writer, and just stuff," he replies, which is hopefully enough of an answer for both of them. He tries not to glower /too/ much, although that's quickly replaced by a smirk at Kyle's note. "I didn't realise that /that/ was still sign language," he comments, a bit more normal volume, though still probably a bit louder than necessary.
Kyle nods his head once, rather quickly, in response to John's statement, a smug expression taking over his features. He signs out, "I'm pretty sure that it is, works for most people" quickly, even though he is next to certain that neither will understand. He twists the bottom of his pen, putting the tip back inside, and places the object into the pocket of his pants; the place where he first withdrew it. "These people obviously know very little...they're so simple..." this, again, is spoken in his mind, but doesn't change his visible expressions any.
Alyssa doesn't catch all of the signing, though she still attempts to follow it, frowning slightly as she doesn't get it. she offers Kyle a helpless little shrug, and a quiet, "I'm sorry?" To John, however, she reaches out, her fingers just brushing against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have presumed, I.." she trails off, then offers an apologetic, "At least I was right?"
John isn't really riled up about that, more just over-possessiveness about the notebook, which is fairly obvious since his eyes haven't left it for more than 10 seconds since relinquishing control. "Aw, s'okay," he manages. He doesn't manage to get any of that last bit from Kyle either.
Its one of those days... and the woman calledblythe walks the park seaking relaxation and escape. Of course that is the point of the park now isnt it. Running a hand through her blue hued locks blythe takes in her surroundings as she makes her way along the path and stops noting the people a short distance away momentarily mesmerised by something as her oddly empty looking black eyes play over the crowd and a gentle breeze whisks its way through the area.
"Of course, they dont get any of this..." Kyles face continues to keep its look, though inside he grows annoyed. "You cant blame them, I guess..." Kyles eyes, momentarilly destracted by some movement, focus in on the distance and take note of Blythe. "Asian..." The smile on his face grew a little wider, "...cute. Oh well." He returned his vision to those around him and makes a few more signals, slowly, spelling out "I-H-A-V-E-T-O-G-E-T-G-O-I-N-G" and he finishes it off with a more simple wave of his hand.
Alyssa will presume that Kyle handed the notebook back up to John before he left, and as such, she leans over to look at it. Without making a move toward it, she quietly mentions, "I think it's kinda neat that you're a writer." She lifts a hand, but only to tuck another slightly windswept bit of hair back behind her ear, as she offers a shy sort of smile, "That was always my favorite thing about English class -- getting to write for it." Blythe hasn't been noticed yet, as this /is/ New York. Blue hair isn't all that exciting -- and Alyssa's talking to a particularly charming young man.
Particularly charming? John? Well, he's /never/ been called that before. Must be the accent. Yeah, chicks dig the accent. John stuffs the notebook quickly under his jacket. "Yeah, I like to write. Mostly why I came here. Hope I can get a job after I get out of school doing... well, something."
Alyssa happens to dig people who actually talk to her, and don't treat her like a kid just because the braces make her look a bit younger than she actually is. The accent probably helped, though. And the notebook. And.. a lot of things. She twists around to watch as John shoves the notebook under his jacket, and hypothesizes, "You don't like sharing."
"Eh, it's actually my journal," John confides. Which will hopefully be explanation enough. "Rather not it get all around New York, that's all." Although the noticable difference in anxiety level probably says something entirely different.
Alyssa ohhhs quietly, and subsides before offering, almost too quietly, "If you'd ever.. like to hang out sometime? Or, y'know, something? I could maybe give you my number.." Because New York is a big place, and Alyssa still doesn't have any real friends, even after three years. "You don't seem like you're going to drag me off and kill me in the middle of the night, or anything.." Way to go, Aly.
Ooo, a number for his little book. 'A,' meaning singular, of course. John blinks, pulling the notebook out and scribbling down a current number of his own and tearing off the corner of the page and handing it to her. "Eh, here's mine too." He extends the book for her to enter her own if she wants. "And no, never killed anyone in the night yet," he adds with a wink.
Alyssa's relief at not being blown off for once is almost tangible, and she accepts the bit of paper with the number almost gleefully, then folds it up and sticks it.. well, we won't mention where she sticks it. Apparently, someone forgot to give her pockets. "Thanks," is murmured as she grins up at him, and accepts the notebook with an eerie kind of reverence. Ooh. She gets to /touch/ it. Her name is printed carefully, 'Alyssa Elizabeth Carter,' and below it is a string of numbers. "That's my house. If you get my mom or dad, just leave a message for me, okay? They're usually pretty good at relaying messages."
Blythe arches an eyebrow, catching herself staring rather blankly in the general direction of the others, she steps forward, blinking ther empty looking eyes a couple times. *sigh* as she nears the others she takes a wider breadth around them and moves off the beaten path a bit. Settling in the grass in the general vicinity.
"Will do," and with that, John quickly slips his shoes on, just tucking the laces in without bothering to tie them, grabs his jacket and book and hops off the rock. "Nice to meet ya." And with that, he's gone.
It's a Burger King. Really. Which isn't saying much, because what's to identify one fast food establishment from another, except for the menus and the signs outside and on the windows. event he buildings all look the same after a while, one chain buying out another's location, and so on. There are a few people in line, two registers open, one of which is manned by a slightly exasperated brunette who still maintains a ready smile. "Welcome to Burger King, may I take your or-- no, sir, I'm afraid we don't sell Big Macs -- that would be McDonald's. Would you possibly like a Whopper, instead?" Yes, this is Alyssa's life.
Give me food. John's stomach rumbles as he pushes open the door to the burger joint and joins the waiting line. He already knows what he's ordering, so no need to look at the menu. Instead, he stares downward, absently flicking his lighter open and closed. They have whole grills of flames out back---certainly no one will comment on a single flickering one out front. Not that he's doing it to make trouble. Just... habit, y'know?
Alyssa likes people who know what they're ordering before they walk in her doors -- they make her life a heck of a lot easier. Fortunately for her, Mr. Big Mac seems to be the most unsure of her customers today, and the line moves quickly. This results in bringing John closer to her register (providing he's moving witht he flow of the line, and not standing there like a lump). She notices the lighter before the face, and announces, in a resigned sort of voice. "I'm sorry, but there's no smoking inside. May I take your orde--" And that's the point where she looks up, and blushes. Way to go, Alyssa. Harrass the nice writer boy you met yesterday in the park. "John?"
John is paying enough attention to move forward a step or two with each satisfied customer. At the smoking line, he looks up, smartass remark on the tip of his tongue, cut short only by recognition of the face. He slips the lighter back into his pocket, moving over to her register. "Uh, hey, Alyssa," he says, name coming back to him fairly quickly. "Eh, wasn't smoking, just... fooling around. So you work here?" Well, duh...
Alyssa nods, ducking slightly over her register. "Fooling around's okay, so long as you don't light up. We've had some problems with that in the past. And, yeah. Every day after school, except for Fridays. Do you know what you want?" She finally looks up at him as she asks, and grins, "I'm off it a bit, if you don't mind company that smells like french fry grease." Fingers are poised over the keys of the register, waiting for his order.
"Yeah, no problem," John says, not bothering to elaborate further. "That's cool. Least it makes you some money, hmm? And..." he trails off, glancing up at the board above, just to make sure it hasn't changed, "I'll have that Number 3 combo. With a coke." He glances over his shoulder, making sure there are tables available. "Yeah, I'm not in any hurry to get back. Just over there eating then. How soon's 'a bit?'"
Alyssa punches the appropriate buttons, then mentiones with something of a self depreciating grin, "Yeah, I guess it's alright. I feel horribly overqualified, though. There are /pictures/ on the buttons." And here I'm going to make up a price, because the Burger King website was no help at all. "With tax, that comes to six-thirteen, and 'a bit,'" eyes flick up to the clock at the back of the resturaunt, and she grins, "Is in about fifteen minutes."
John peers over at the register, smirking slightly. "Yeah, but it takes a bit of schooling to interpret those symbols. Is that a burger or... a balled up sock? I'll have one of those." He fishes several crumpled ones out of his pockey, passing them her way. "M'kay, I think I can make the fries last that long then."
Alyssa rolls her eyes. "That's a burger, thank you." Accepting the ones, she rings up the sale, tucks them away, and fishes out his change. This is handed over along with his receipt, and she gives him another smile. "You're number eighty-one. Should be ready in just a few minutes." In the meantime, he can either hang out in the quasi-lobby, or go find his seat.
John wanders off to the corner, receipt in hand. He finds a table, sliding into a seat and laying the receipt down. The jacket is shrugged off, and the notebook flops open to a blank page. He doesn't write just yet, though, instead just stares out the window at the people walking by.
And lo and behold, about five minutes later -- give or take a few, John's food arrives. This isn't quite procedure, as usually numbers are called and people have to come up to get their orders. "Number three combo, and a Coke.." The tray is slid onto the table, and Alyssa grins down at him. "I managed to get my manager to let me off a bit early -- I never ask, and I told him I'd skip one of my breaks, tomorrow."
"Oh, personal delivery. I bet you do this for all your customers," John grins as he looks up from a still blank page. Writer's block, oy. "I'm not stalking, you really, just in case you were wondering."
Alyssa eyes the blank page for a moment, then seats herself with a shy grin. "Only the cute ones who're nice to me in parks." She shakes her head in response to the question, and grins a little more confidently, this time. "I wasn't -- I hadn't told you where I worked, remember? And it works out okay. I was going to try calling you, after work." Because she honestly has nothing better to do. "Are you still in school?" Alyssa, queen of small-talk.
John smirks slightly at that. I'm cute, I'm cute. She said I'm cute.... "I'd offer you fries fries, but I guess you're probably sick of them. Still, if you want..." he gives the container a little nudge between them, slowly unwrapping his burger. "For another four weeks, I am. Then done." That part has no hiding the anticipation there. He folds back the paper and bites into the hamburger. "You?" he manages a moment later after swallowing, reaching for a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth.
Alyssa grins. "Nah, fries are my one weakness. Them, and the little ice cream cone thingers. It's the burgers that I'm sick of." Apparently, that doesn't stop her from carrying on intelligent conversation with someone eating one. Reaching out to snag a fry, she makes a slightly envious noise. "Four weeks? Lucky. I've got about that, plus another year. I'm a junior." She nibbles on the fry, then adds, "I'm hoping to transfer out, though. The sooner the better. Where do you go?"
It's odd that one of the most common questions amongst highschoolers should also be one of the most difficult. "Eh," John says, pausing to munch a couple fries himself. "Small private school. You'd not've heard of it." There's a slight grimace on the word 'private.' "M'not really that smart or anything; just worked out that way so I could come to school here. How about you?" And yes, let's quickly turn the conversation on its head.
Alyssa shrugs. "Public. They're all the same, really. But I'm hoping to get to transfer to a private school." The last two words are slowed as if she's processing something, and then she tilts her head to one side. "I'd never heard about it 'til about a week a go, when.. I guess you could say a recruiter showed up in my living room. Drove a /wicked/ cool car, though." She steals another fry, then shrugs. "Guess I'm lucky. I hate where I am, right now."
"Recruiter, hmm?" John asks between bites. "You didn't say /you/ were a genious. People out wanting to get you to their schools. You had any college offers yet? Dang, maybe I /should/ have pretended to be smart then."
Alyssa rapidly shakes her head, and stutters out, "I, I'm not a genious. I'm not even passing /pre-calc/. But I'm--" Er. She doubleblinks, and only one set of 'lids slides back open. Pupils narrow slightly, as well -- all of this is reflexive, unfortunately for her, and a sign of nervousness. "...just.. lucky," is the rather lame followup.
"Pre-calc? Sounds pretty... smart... to me..." John trails off, trying not to look too closely at her face a moment. Ho-hum. Recruiter. Wicked cool cars. "Lucky. Yeah." He mutters, suddenly digging into the burger with flourish.
Alyssa swallows hard, and suddenly becomes very, very interested in the french fries. "Yeah, lucky. An' I tested /into/ pre-calc. That doesn't mean I'm gonna do anything but fail it miserably. Probably have to repeat it, which'll suck." Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look at hi-- "I think I need to start wearing sunglasses. Everywhere."
John frowns slightly, though for a moment it could be at the huge bite of pickle as much as anything else. "You shouldn't have to," is all he says for a moment, not elaborating any further yet. And if he squeezes that burger any harder, it just might pop out of the wrapper into his lap.
"If you don't like pickles, you should have said something." Alyssa's not looking directly at him -- no, rather, she's looking up at him through her eyelashes, attention still aparently focused on the french fries. In regards to his comment, however, "I'd like to keep my job, though."
"Eh, they're fine. Just not all at once," John says, still frowning. "You do a good job, right? Stupid people. If they fired me over...something stupid like that... I'd burn the place down." Yes, slightly agitated. On her account, of course. "When?" he quickly adds. Keep her answering questions and she'll ask none of her own.
John's not the only one agitated, but Alyssa just nods slowly, "Yeah, yeah I do. I mean, it's a decent enough job. A trained monkey could do it." Slowly, she raises her head, and looks at him, head tilted to one side. "When? About a week ago." Gaze drops again, and she casually mentions, "You see the fine print on the sign n the window? The one across the lobby. It says.." Eyes flick over, and she scans it once, "Copyright 2003, 2004, 2005." Back to the french fries. "You?"
Time to come clean. Because you shouldn't have to hide. And if it were any other restaurant, John might give a bit of a show. Just because. It's a pity too, what with all those flame-broiled grills out back. It's amazing how he can go from cheery to surly in such a short period of time. He reaches to the bench beside him, slipping the lighter from a pocket, and sets it on the table between them. "I don't smoke. Well, often," he says, before beginning to chew on the remainder of the burger.
Alyssa blinks -- normally this time -- at the lighter on the table, and reaches out just a little bit, as if she wants to touch his hand. "I'm.. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. It's.. okay. If you don't want to hang out with me anymore." Not because she's a mutant, but because she's such a complete and utter dork. "I'll stil think your cute." Alyssa. Shut. Up.
John crooks a smile at that, then chuckles slightly. "Don't mind me," he finally says, pushing the last of the fries her way and reaching for the lighter. He slides out from the bench, slipping his jacket on. "Finish those off while I hit the dunny. If you're still here when I get back, we can go for a walk. I'll... show you my lighter, and you can tell me about this wicked cool car. Firebird?" Without waiting for an answer, he's off across the restaurant toward the restrooms.
Alyssa is most assuredly still waiting by the time John gets back -- let's see, he's found out she's a mutant, a /complete/ dork, and probably has a fair idea that she has a crush on him. Or at least thinks he's cute. Annnnd he's still willing to go for a walk with her. How can she /not/ still be waiting? She's also got a reply for him on the tip of her tongue, once he returns.
John returns several minutes later, plenty of time for her to escape if she wants to. The lighter flicking open and closed. Since she is still there, he offers a bemused smile, waiting by the door for her.
Alyssa didn't want him to think she was going to disappear -- so she holds up a hand, indicating that he should wait just a sec. She disappears back into the employee section of the joint, then pops back out, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Meeting him by the door, she offers, "Aston Martin, actually. Not Firebird." She's going to assume that the latter belongs to one of the other teachers.
It's getting to be summer, so the evenings are quite pleasant. And not quite dark. "So... recruiter, hmm?" John finally ask, a half-block later. "Hey, um... you... want to go get some coffee? I know this place..."
Alyssa would probably reach for his hand at this point, if she'd known him for more than a day. As it is, she stuffs her hands in the pockets of her pants, and looks over at him with a bit of a grin. "I guess you could call her that. I couldn't think of anything else that wouldn't give it away. Guess I kinda failed at that one, though." She looks around a bit, then back over at him, and asks, "Coffee?"
"Yeah," John says, glancing around and nodding toward the subway station a couple blocks down. "Little hike, if you have the time. If not another night."
"I've got the time. Is there a phone there? I'd need to let my mom know where I was, but.." But once Alyssa explains that she's met a boy like her, and he's nice, and.. so on and so forth, Theresa Carter isn't likely to object. "And so long as I don't stay out /too/ late.."
John nods. "Yeah, they have a payphone. And the subway's not too far, so you can get wherever home is pretty quick." With that, he begins to move in the direction of the subway. "So... Jean Grey, I'd guess then, from the Astin. She just... showed up on your door?"
Alyssa returns the nod, and grins. "Yeah, okay. That should work." She follows him, grinning as she explains. "Well, not exactly. Apparently she had contacted my parents earlier, and talked to my mother over the phone. But yeah -- one day I came home from work, and there she was, /the/ Dr. Grey, drinking tea in my living room." She drifts slightly closer to him, then admits, "I'd had a feeling soemthing was up, for a little while.. but she sort of.. confirmed it. Apparently all I do is blink funny, and see exceptionally well, though." She's cool because she's lame.
"That's cool," John confirms. He glances around quickly. No one exceptionally close, least enough to see anything beyond a teenager playing with his lighter. Because 'shouldn't' doesn't count for anything. Out comes the lighter, and with a practiced flick of the wrist, the top pops open and the flame springs up. Only for a moment, though, before it leaps from the lighter to hover atop his index finget, which he swirls around in the air, for a moment before letting the flame grow to baseball sized in his palm. Which he then makes a fist, extinguishing it. Well, not quite as simple as that, his forehead does have a thin line of sweat across it, particularly at that last little display. But his showing off has given them time to get to the subway stop, and he quickly tromps down the stairs.
The Sanctuary
Alyssa is nearly dancing by the time they get off the subway -- making inane chitchat and smalltalk (what can be made on the subway, anyway -- though being in close proximity to John for the whole ride made her happy, too) when you want to squeal about whatever you've just seen results in a very, very energetic teenager. Once they're far enough away that they're not likely to be overheard, she leans over and squeals (quietly, quietly) up at him, "That is the /coolest/ thing I have /ever/ seen!" Her expression is earnest, and excited, and she reaches -- hesitantly -- toward his hand. "Does it ever.. hurt? When you swallow it back up with your hand, like that.."
"Naw," John says with a grin, eating up the attention of a new performance. It's not all that often that he gets to show his powers to someone new--and, well, Magneto just doesn't squeal. "Well, just once," he admits. "Got to make sure I concentrate on it. If I let it go, it'll burn me just like---sticking your hand on a stove or anything else." He reaches out and taps her hand. "See, it's still cool." But then, he quickly pulls it back to his side. "M'kay, down here," he directs her down a nearby alley. "Don't worry, not going to kill you or anything."
Alyssa keeps her eyes on him, brow furrowing as he mentions that once. "Oh.. I'll try.. not to ever disturb you, or anything, when you're doing that, then." She blushes a little as he reaches out to prove that his hand's still cool, sucking in her breath a little at the touch. But then that worry's back again, as he directs her down the alley, and this time she /does/ reach for his hand. "It's.. not /you/ I'm worried about, y'know?" He's already proven himself trustworthy, at least to her.
John is either oblivious, uninterested or too busy to notice the attempt. He quickens his stride, toward a light that's spilling out. It's not a dark shady alley, really. Just one that's not of much interest unless one really is intending to come here. "Naw, nothing will bother you here," he replies, over his shoulder, then pulling open the door for her as he reaches the coffeeshop. "Ta-da."
Alyssa earnestly hopes it's either the former or the latter, and nowhere near the middle option. Either way, she sticks close by John until they reach the door, then hesitates, and finally slips inside. She blinks slowly, eyes widening slightly as she takes in the scene. Impressive. Her hand -- the one that wasn't unsucessfully groping for John's -- reaches up to slide her backpack off her shoulder, and she says quietly, "I'm gonna go change out of my uniform," because, presumably, anywhere that sells coffee logically has a bathroom, or is run by masochists, "And meet you either in the line, or at a table. Um. If you have to pay before I get back, I'll reimburse you... chai tea?" And then without waiting for an answer, she's retreating.
John crosses the room toward the counter, smirking a bit to himself. It's a nice shop, but wait until she runs into the clientele. Which from their vantage point you couldn't exactly guess at the common denominator. "I give it... oh, a minute and a half?" he murmers to himself as he slides into line. A few minutes later, he retreats to one of the tables, tea and iced mocha in hand, waiting for her return and response.
For someone who didn't know she was a mutant until a very short time ago, and just met her first Confirmed Mutant, so to speak, Alyssa handles the clientele with a measure of grace that's probably a testament to parents who taught tolerance above all, and a bit of excitement on her part. Because tails are cool. When she emerges from the bathroom, she looks much more like her normal self -- from mary janes to kneesocks (brown, this time), to pleated black skirt and a snuggly, russet-colores turtleneck. Her eyes are slightly wide as she emerges, and she scans the shop for John, finally finding him and the table. She slides into the seat across from him, drops her backpack into her lap, and starts rummaging around in it for her wallet. "Thank you, John. For bringing me.. here."
John pushes the mug of tea toward her, glancing around. Tails, ears. Fangs should be coming out tonight too, pretty soon, more literal than figurative. The latter's simply not allowed. "Yeah, helps to know you're not the only one, I guess. Nice place to beat down the depression. And besides, the coffee's good."
Alyssa quietly watches people passing back and forth, then wraps ehr hands around her mug of tea, and lifts it to blow on it, cooling it until she can take a sip. "This is an amazing place.. Amazing people.." Someone catches her eye, and she watches him or her (she's not entirely sure) pass, then returns her attention to John. Now that they're here, considering the surroundings, she figures she can ask slightly less guarded questions. "How.. did you find out?"
John works at his own coffee a minute, brow furrowing just a bit as he thinks back. "Eh... playing with matches," John says finally. "What you Americans call 7th grade. I was twelve. Just... got a bit out of hand."
Alyssa considers this for a long moment, then whistles quietly. "I was still in Arizona, when I was twelve.. what was it like?" She pauses, then shakes her head, and blushes slightly. "I mean. I don't mean to pry or anything, but it's so /different/ from mine, and it's really cool. So I'm just.. curious." She's also fairly obviously hanging on his every word, while /trying/ not to be that obvious about it.
John's face starts to border on scowl now. Not exactly, but the eyebrows are going further down as he stares at his coffee. "Wasn't all that great, really. Just... y'know." Because obviously she should know, right.
"No, John. I don't. I /don't/ know. I can't even feel when things happen, with mine. All I know is I have fantastic eyesight, and it's been getting even better, lately." Alyssa's head lowers, and she stares into her tea, then admits, "I only know about the eyelids because my mother explained when it happens."
"Well, at least that's useful," John nods, looking up, some of the scowl fading. "And safe. Yeah, I get to be cool. Was cool back home too. Soon as I burned that cat up when the fire exploded that first time. Kids thought that was very cool." Um, did someone slip some veritaserum in the coffee here? Where did /that/ come from. "So wait, your mom /explained/ it?" Ah, there's the John we know, pushing right past the awkwardness.
Alyssa snorts quietly. "Yeah, safe. Safe, safe, safe. Do you have any idea how /boring/ safe is?" Apparently, this is one of those Alyssa-things. "Or maybe I'm safe because /I'm/ boring. I dunno. You'd have to ask all the kids who've ever gone to school with me, or the boys who giggled and laughed at me when I asked them to dance." This time it's her turn to scowl down into her mug, though after a moment or two, she sigh and bloows a bit of hair up out of her face, though it settles right back down. Looking over at him, she says, "Yeah. My mom /explained/ it. She's apaprently known my whole life. Never told me, though. 'Cause it wasn't that noticeable, 'til my eyes started changing."
See, John /always/ knows how to get to the sore spots and tapdance on them. He watches Alyssa as she talks. "Well, maybe it'll turn into something cool, then. Like X-ray vision or something. You said it's getting better all the time, and things usually just start now and change as you get older. Jean might be able to tell you more." Oo, see Encouraging John, now with Random Thought action.
Alyssa needles John, John needles her, and round and round they go. "Yeah, maybe. With my luck, though? I'll end up bein' the best sign-post reader the world's ever seen. Never miss your turn, with Alyssa in the car!" She's grinning by the time she comes out with that, and leans in for another sip at her tea, peering at John over the rim. Now it's time for her ransom thought. "Do you have a girlfriend?" Blink. Blinkblink. "Wait, no! I mean. I meant.. to ask about the school.." This last trails off into a mutter, as she blushes brightly, and becomes oh so interested in her tea. Mm, tea.
John leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "Well, then, since you /meant/ to ask about the school," he starts with a smirk, "I'll not mean to answer 'Heck, no,' then proceed to mean to ask you what you want to know about the school."
Alyssa continues blushing, and if there are any telepaths in the room, they can probably hear her very loudly and fervently wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. As this rather fortunately doesn't happen, she's forced to actually address the realization that she really did just ask him that. Oh dear. His answer, however, inspires hope -- as does the tone he takes in answering. She's still blushing, though, as she says, "I'll not mean to ask why 'heck' no, then. And mean to ask.. I dunno, /everything/. Do you like it there?" Yep, still blushing.
"Because I'm gay," John says completely straight-faced. For all of seven seconds when a snicker breaks through, and he smirks at her, obviously teasing now. "Naw, the girls at school. Well, they're nice enough, but... not my type. Y'know, it's all so... 'safe,'" he says, falling back on their earlier word choice. "And... everything's a lot to explain, so how about we pick something to start with. Classes are just as hard as anywhere else, if you're wondering. 'Gifted' and all."
Alyssa's face falls for a split second before she's scrambling to cover, shooling her expression into one that doesn't convey heart-crushing disappointment. And then he laughs, and Aly just.. stares at him. Her reaction is mixed, and she makes a choked-off little sound before she finally comes up with, "I cannot /believe/ I nearly fell for that.." And then, the line of the century, "I'm not a girl at your school." Pause. "Yet." This is delivered with an equally straight face, and she doesn't start to blush until she goes for another sip of tea. Ahem. "I figured they might be -- 'cause my mom said that Dr. Grey had said not all parents were as supportive as they are.. so it's just gotta look like a regular school.. right?" She wrinkles her nose, peeking up at him as she asks, "Do you think they'll make me retake precalc? 'Cause I know I'm gonna bomb it.."
John grins widely as Alyssa, despite her comment, does apparantly fall for his statement. As for The Line (tm), John is apparantly more caught up in her closing statements. "Oh, it /is/ a regular school. Lots of homework, lots of classes. Just... other stuff too. Just being around others is good. And if you need help with your powers, well, sometimes the teachers are willing to do stuff after class. Mostly, though, just getting used to others' powers. This one guy is planning a capture the flag game toward the end of the year where everyone gets to use their powers. Tell you what, good eyesight would be much cooler for that than what I can do."
Alyssa sighs as her line goes unnoticed, then can't help but wriggle slightly. "Oh, /really/? Wow, that sounds awfully fun.. I hope I'm able to transfer, by then." Or at least come play with them, anyway. She leans back in her chair, cradling her mug of tea, and tilts her head at him. "Hey, John? I need to ask a favor of you..."
John settles down into a more comfortable position, raising an eyebrow at the favor line. "Oh don't worry. If Jean already came to talk to you, then you don't have to worry about getting in. Not that I hold much weight when it comes to stuff like that already." Unless you meant the /other/ favor, of course.
Alyssa blinks, then shakes her head. "No, no. It's not that. She just said that was a matter of time." She bites her bottom lip for a moment, then blurts out, "Okay, so it's kinda big, but kinda little, too. I need a date. To prom." She starts blushing again, then rushes out the words, "It wouldn't be like an actual date or anything, but you're nice, and you're fun to talk to, so it'd mean I wouldn't have to, y'know, talk to the floral arrangements all night, or something. I'd.. I'd pay for your ticket and everything, and I've got my license so mom said I can drive, an' you wouldn't have to wear a tux or anything, just.. come.. with me." She takes a hurried gulp of her tea, and mentally cringes for the inevitable rejection.
Awwww, how can you possibly say no to that? John may be corruptible, but he's not made of stone. Or Steal. Or whatever the immallable material of the month is. Still, he doesn't likely get the significance of the matter when he blinks, then shrugs and offers, a "Sure, why not?"
And when you're expecting rejection, and get an acceptance instead? How can you /not/ start grinning like an idiot. "Really? You'll really go with me? Wow! That's the greatest thing ever!" Yes, she's giddy. And giggling. And doing all manner of other stupid things. "Oh. Oh! I forgot to pay you for the tea.."
John blinks, truly speechless for a moment, before mumbling something to the effect of, "Oh, don't worry about it. Wasn't much." Which could be for just the tea but more likely for both. Girls. And their giggling. :sigh. "When is it?"
Alyssa coughs slightly. "Next weekend. That's not too soon, is it?" ...because asking a boy you've met twice to prom isn't moving a little bit fast, Aly. Right. She's stopped giggling, but she's still grinning over at him. "You're totally going to be better company than the floral arrangements."
John squints in thought for a moment. "Next weekend... Yea, that's fine, sure." He think a moment. "I can probably dig up a tux from someone at school, if you want." It's her night, after all. Might as well go all out.
Alyssa blushes, and stutters slightly. "Y.. you don't have to do that. I mean, you could just wear a nice shirt, and some slacks.. 'cause.. I like the jacket." And John would look terribly out of place in a tux. "But if you really want to, you can." She takes another sip of her tea, then frowns as she realizes it's emptying fast. "Huh."
"Whatever," shrugs John. "You decide. I'll give you a call sometime this week then to see what you want. We'll give all those 'normal,' 'cool' students something to be jealous of." Which, of course, sounds so much more ulterior motives than there really are.
Alyssa wouldn't mind a little bit of alterior motivating going on. She really doesn't like the school, after all. "Okay, that sounds good. I'll try to figure out.. something.. between now and then." She sets her mug down on the table, and plays with the cuff of her sweater for a minute. "So do you have any friends at the school?"
"Oh, it's small enough that you really know everyone," John says, shrugging at the question. "Most of the seniors are pretty tight. Room with a guy named Bobby, he's pretty cool. Can make ice. Kinda ironic they put us together. You'll meet them, even if you don't come until next year, I bet. People tend to hang around after they graduate."
"That's pretty cool. I think I know about.. two.. of the girls in my class on anything more than a name-to-face basis." Alyssa snorts at the irony of putting fire and ice together in one room, then carefully tilts her head to one side. "Are /you/ planning on sticking around after you graduate? ...because I wouldn't mind seeing you around." She doesn't quite blush this time, but drops her gaze once again.
"Not you too," John mock-whines. "Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do after I graduate. My parents want me to come back there for a visit. Can't make it for graduation--too expensive, but they can swing one ticket, so I'm going to go back there for a couple weeks end of June. After that... get a job here. Do some writing. Pretty much whatever I want."
"I meant that on a purely personal level. It'd /totally/ suck if I met this cute writer-guy, only to have him disappear on me soon as he graduates." Alyssa wrinkles her nose at the whine, then straightens out her head, and flashes him a grin. "Promise you'll keep in touch with me? ...no matter what?"
John shrugs at that. Though being called "cute writer-guy" does have the expected ego stroke. "Won't be hard," he comments. Which is not exactly a promise. "Like I said, kinda hard for people to ever leave there completely. I'm sure I'll be around quite a bit."
Alyssa totally thinks John is the cute writer-guy. Hands down. "That's the lamest answer ever, but I'm gonna guess it's the best I'll get out of you." She'll probably ask again after prom. "I still can't wait until I get to see the campus."
"So now I'm lame too?" John asks with a grin. "Well, let me know when you're coming and I'll show you the /rest/ of the campus. Everything the teachers wish we students /didn't/ know about." With that, he downs the last of his coffee, glancing at her cup. "Well, you want to hang out here a bit longer, or do you need to get going back? Did you ever call home? Hate for your parents to think some pyromanical axe murderer got you."
Alyssa smirks. "Only in a good way, John. Only in a good way." She peers down at her now-empty mug, and grins. "I should probably start heading home. You can come with me, if you'd like? Make sure I don't get mugged on my way home, or anything?" She shifts in her chair, moving to swing her backpack back up over her shoulder. "And don't worry, I called her. Told her I found myself a nice mutant boy, and he was taking me out for coffee." Her eyes twinkle as she tells him this, "Mentioned you're a writer, too. Besides, it's only fair. I'm going to get to see where you live, after all."
Well, that just might be moving a long a touch too fast. "Actually," he starts, pushing himself up from the table. "I... really should be getting back to campus. I, ah, can walk you to the subway station, though. Maybe on the same line, but this is the nearest one anyways."
Alyssa awws softly, "Well, it was worth a shot, anyway. The subway station should be fine. I think I can manage to get home fairly well on my own." She stands as well, grinning over at him before she waves a hand toward the door, and asks, "Shall we?"
John nods, glancing around for his stuff and tucking the notebook under one arm, leads their way out. Good night, folk.