open; late arrival

[sparkedtoburst]

It had been somewhere around about 2am when Spencer's train had finally reached Washington, and then it had been a further hour and twenty minutes on a bus to Lincoln City before he was greeted, albeit stoically, by a member of the army. After so many hours travel and so many hours in cramped, confined space, Spencer just allowed himself to be

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[double_dynamite]

Tabitha wasn't an early bird by any means, but lately she'd taken point in being up before anybody could manhandle her out of bed and as a result wasn't exactly her fresh as daisies morning self-which may explain how she nearly runs smack into Spencer.
"Crap! Sorry dude."

[sparkedtoburst]

It's more a reflex from the bustling streets of L.A than any sort of ability to move quickly that saves Spencer from tipping coffee all over her. Instantly taking a step to the side, hopefully avoiding any kind of slip, Spencer waves his hand in dismissal, "No, it's fine, it's...it's really early so," so he can understand working on autopilot.

Despite the thrum of restless energy, something that always happens when he's fighting off a severe lack of sleep, he's still got that quiet, tired quality to his tone and his voice. "Should've been looking where I was going anyway." He doubted his mother would be impressed with him letting a young woman take the blame when he was equally at fault.

[double_dynamite]

"I hope I didn't like ruin your coffee or anything hon, hey are you new?" Tabby was smiling in a friendly manner as she yawned and ruffled her hair in a sleepy manner.

[sparkedtoburst]

Looking down at his cup, Spencer managed a smile, "Um, no it's fine." Maybe sloshed over the side a little, but nothing horribly terrible, like a piece of egg in it or anything.

"I ah, yeah. Got in almost four hours ago." And he wasn't exaggerating or anything.

[watch_the_nails]

Victor is already in the mess hall when the new arrival makes an appearance. The feral is digging into a congealing mass of warm and cooling meats - sausages, bacon, and something that looks like it may once have been part of a cow. He glances up at the new recruit, clearly giving him a quick once-over, assessing the man for combat capabilities, and trying to see any visible mutations. Seeing none, he curls his lip in a sneer and continues to eat his food, dismissing the man as not being important enough to merit his attention, at least not just yet. He doesn't look like he's made of muscle, and he's too scrawny to be any use for sparring. Maybe - like Bradley - he'll prove to be of some use as some kind of chew toy.

[sparkedtoburst]

There's a tendril of something; not fear, not panic, more of a sort of wariness about it all. Spencer could liken it to the times he's been in court to report on the dealings of a trial, or interviewed inmates when their appeals are coming up. It's the sort of feeling that leaves him minding his surroundings and avoiding corners -corners are not his friend, they will end his life.

Being the scrawny kid never bothered him, he's athletic, he's muscled in a wiry, hidden strength sort of way. But the way he catches sight of what has to be the most homicidal looking thing he has ever seen -and L.A has it's share of psychopaths, Spencer is pretty sure that his feet will be the only muscles he needs to consider.

[watch_the_nails]

The feral senses the other man's unease - he's seen it plenty of times before on the faces of his victims, in the women he's abused, that wary, disturbed look of caution that so often accompanies fear - and it makes him smile. He draws upon that fear, feeds on it, because it makes him feel proud, strong and superior, as if he owns the place. It's an affirmation of his position as the true Alpha Male. A wicked grin spreads across Victor's face, and he flashes his fanged smile at the smaller man, deciding after all that, yes, maybe he will be an amusing distraction.

"Ain't you gonna join me for some breakfast, kid? It's almost fresh."

He's missed this, this feeling of smug superiority, and he's going to savor every moment of it as much as he can.

[sparkedtoburst]

Oh yes, definitely of the homicidal variety. Clutching his coffee, Spencer opens and shuts his mouth before working out his reply, "No, thank you," as a journalist, words are usually very carefully considered. "I tend not to eat anything that once had a pulse." Although evidently, that didn't seem to be a problem for the large male who appeared to have a whole cow on his plate.

Besides, he's almost worried he'd end up being breakfast. "It's a bit of a dine and dash scenario here." Because he doesn't really want to engage in conversation, or anything else with this man, but also because he cannot be late for what he assumes will be his introduction to what the hell this is.

"But, again, thanks." Not like the fanged man offered out of politeness, of course.

[lightbulbtrix]

Bradley was picking at a very runny egg with his fork when Spencer walked in. He'd never been an early riser, but he'd learned the hard way that if he didn't get up for breakfast, then he wouldn't get any. That cook ran his kitchen like a Nazi.

"New recruit?" He asked curiously when the other man walked by his table. It had been a while since any new mutants had joined the team, and Bradley was beginning to wonder if Stryker, or Emma, or whoever was running the show had finally reached their unspecified quota. Bradley just hoped this guy was friendly. They already had enough psychos who were way too eager to kill on base as it was.

[sparkedtoburst]

Head turned, Spencer chanced a small smile before his face returned to passive, either because of his exhaustion or some subconscious urge to just not smile too much -either way his mouth felt like it wasn't up for the smiling anyway. "Um, yeah, new recruit."

It made sense that he'd be easily picked out as 'new'. It made more sense that these people would show an active interest with that said 'new' person. Quickly grabbing a cup of coffee, Spencer ventured back towards the blond and his eggs with a mildly sheepish expression. "I take it I'm gonna get that a lot?"

[lightbulbtrix]

"Figures the higher-ups weren't done with their collecting yet," Bradley said, shrugging. He'd seen so many people come and go during his time with the time that his enthusiasm towards anyone new was considerably less than it had once been. No need to get attached to people who would just end up in a body bag a few months later.

Bradley nodded at Spencer's question. "You're lucky you arrived during a period where there's been a lot going on around the camp, or everyone's curiosity would be a lot worse." He wondered about the other man's mutation, but felt that might be a bit too personal to start right off the bat with.

[sparkedtoburst]

Curiosity was like Spencer's distant cousin, he was used to curiosity, he had a healthy dose of it himself on a daily basis. Kept the senses sharp, the pencil blunt and the ink running out. Although lately he was starting to think that his curiosity was going to get him killed, instead it just planted him here. Which might have the end result, but he was hoping on that not happening.

"It is the kind of environment that would breed that kind of atmosphere." He'd been there barely four hours and already he was itching to get into the questions; who were you, what could you do, why were you here, how long had you been here, what had you been doing? There were so many, and he had a good handful of people just sitting around.

But politeness outweighed professional curiosity, and really, asking that to the wrong person could get him killed or whatever. "Do things get busy a lot?"

[sparkedtoburst]

Up until this point, Spencer hadn't really been surrounded by that many of what people would call 'his own kind', despite the fact that he'd been digging and digging into the different conspiracy theories surrounding the mutants of the world. He wasn't sure what he should look for or even if he should look for anything at all -it was rude to stare, after all, even at people with horns, blue skin or extra arms.

But, standing to get his coffee, fiddling with the milk container and having an internal debate of if sugar really should be added or not, Spencer had the slight, fleeting feeling of, well, of something. His hand raised to scratch lightly at the back of his neck before he continued with his coffee, although that didn't really help anything at all, except make him want to scratch his neck again. It was like a nervous tick.

Coffee in hand, other than still rubbing at the back of his neck, Spencer was left standing at the far end of the hall, frowning. And he had no idea why.

[sparkedtoburst]

He was feeling a little more than just out of it when the dark haired male sauntered over, gaining another frown, "Spencer," it was practically just an automatic response to the question, "and thanks, I guess."

Having the place called 'Base of Doom' probably wasn't the best indicator of anything; he knew of a place in L.A called the Coffee of Doom, but that was a completely other sort of thing and the owner was just a little bit more than scary. A military base -one in which Spencer was expected to work in, shouldn't have 'Doom' in the name at all. Even an unofficial nickname.

"I, uh, yeah." Flustered didn't start to cover it, "Who're you?"

[movetheearth]

Apparently, Ric had discovered, there was a limited amount of time during which you were allowed to play on the fact that you were injured and then had been attacked by a gun wielding crazy mutant before people (namely his boyfriend) started to get a little sick and tired of the routine. So this was why the mexican was currently having to get his own breakfast, not to mention the pain killers had yet to kick into action so a lay-in wasn't an option

[sparkedtoburst]

"Wha-" It took Spencer a few moments to work out what it was he was being asked, and when he did, he had to stop and think when the rough part of the day started, "Oh, something like that. Long day, long night, rough morning."

Spencer wasn't a stranger to long days and nights, there were times when he'd have to push himself to the limit to meet a deadline, some pieces just didn't want to write themselves and all he could do was drain energy drinks and force himself to stay awake another hour to finish it. Meetings and interviews were never at the most convenient times and there were times when Spencer didn't get any sleep at all.

Then again, those times weren't usually right before he was thrust into the body of an all mutant training team with the army. "Bit of a rollercoaster really."

[movetheearth]

Reaching past the guy Ric grabbed a plate piled high with bacon, eggs, sausage, toast and hash browns whilst flashing a smile at the soldier who was serving. This was a perk of the camp, decent food designed to to ensure you were well fed for training. It looked to him like the guy was about ready to audition for a part as the living dead. "Looks like you're having a time of it gringo."

Setting his plate down Ric held out a hand, nudging the tray along the rack with his hip. "Welcome to the carnival I'm Julio Richter but everyone calls me Ric or Rictor. I take it you must be new seeing as the Captain won't let just anyone in here."

Julio wondered just who the poor guy had encountered so far, casting a quick gaze across the mess hall it was easy to see that the team were slowly arriving in dribs and drabs.

[sparkedtoburst]

Spencer quickly took the hand and shook it, noting that this guy seemed to be fairing a little poorly. "Spencer, um, Spencer Trip, but Spencer is fine, unless you're my sister, she calls me Spence." He wasn't exactly sure why he'd decided to ramble that out a little bit, but he seemed to just keep talking right then.

"Captain?" Since no one had mentioned anything about any Captain -although the common sense part of his brain argued that of course there would be some sort of military official involved with all of this, how stupid would it be otherwise? "I'm not sure who that is, but I am, yes. Fresh off the bus, and train and car."

Three tiered travelling was something he was going to try and avoid from now on.