Reaching Out (Closed)

[Jesse Adams]

December 21st, 2013

Jesse had spent a good deal of the afternoon sitting stone still on his bed, staring into nothing. Even Ty’s gentle scratching in his wood shavings hadn’t roused him from his trance. He couldn’t think about much more beyond simply replying the conversation in his head over and over again.

Hammel was supposed to be safe. The thought of his father storming down and trying to extract him just... it made him want to curl into a ball and never move again. The cold chill that had tingled down his back had settled across his whole body, despite the heat in the dorms being higher than usual due to the cold.

He had to get out of here.

Anywhere was safer than here. Even though darkness was starting to fall, it didn’t matter. Breaking curfew wouldn’t matter either. Not when he had to get away. Dr Neville would understand, right? And the headmistresses? Maybe?

Well, maybe not, but he didn’t care. He threw a few essentials into his backpack, and after a moment of consideration, picked up his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He didn’t want the thing near him, but he had things in it still. Emails he’d transferred from his old phone. Pictures that had also been transferred. Contacts.

Though not a single name in his contact list could save him right now.

He hastily ripped a page from his notebook to write Clement a note, which would be fired under his door on his way out. It simply said ‘Take care of Ty – Jess’ on it, with the writing significantly messier than usual. As he locked his dorm, he shoved the paper under Clement’s door and practically sprinted to the door leading to the hall.

It felt like he was running away all over again.

Once he was outside, he didn’t know where he was going. Nor did he care he hadn’t grabbed his jacket. He just headed down to where his car was parked, threw himself inside, and just stared ahead. Motels sucked, and he didn’t want to leave forever. ... Besides, as far as he knew he was still being watched. It made him cringe. Where could he go if Hammel wasn’t safe?

... Wait.

Just fifteen minutes later his Mustang was crookedly parked out on the street. Vincent had given him his address and phone number just in case he ever needed it. At the time, Jesse had scoffed it off. Now, he was glad he kept it. His GPS said he was in the right place, so after a minute of trying to calm down, he hauled himself out of the car and walked up to the front door. The doorbell was pressed with a slightly shaking hand, and then he waited.

[Vincent Meian]

Saturdays were normally quiet and relaxed days. Unlike Fridays, they held few of his more difficult students, which meant classes were done no later than four - during the winter, that meant being home even before dark. This Saturday heralded the start of the winter break, which meant that his few students were out for the holidays, and those that remained asked to reschedule for the following week for other reasons. The trainer agreed to all of them, and left the school early around noon.

After school, Saturdays were for cleaning the house and cooking dinner (served at seven). It was incredibly domestic, but being that he was the one with not only a knack for cooking but a severe propensity for cleanliness as well, it fell to the head of household to manage both of those tasks. Thankfully, there was only so much filth a lived-in house could accumulate in the course of a week, and today it was completely done by the time his girls returned shortly before dark.

Today, despite being the shortest day of the year and a holiday (albeit a not oft celebrated one), things seemed like they would be normal, like any other day. Dark fell, the meal to be served had started being prepped, and everyone who should have been in the household was.

Therefore, the ringing of the doorbell came as a profound surprise.

Vincent rarely gave out his address and phone number to students, but not because he didn't trust them. Both his home phone and his residence were listed in the school directory as public knowledge, as were they listed in the phone book. For certain students, ones that needed a little bit of a push to perceive the trust he had in them (and as a show of faith that he was serious about any offer for help), he openly gave the information. Jesse Adams was one of those students who had been given the information, in neat lettering on a small card. He hadn't expected the boy to take him up on his offer ever, but he was prepared for it if it happened.

Pausing for a moment at the kitchen sink, the trainer looked up from the vegetables he'd been washing with a frown, uncomprehending. Who could be here today, at this hour? It was shortly before six, but still dark - most people would have called ahead. Figuring that it didn't really matter and he should at least check who it was anyway. Stepping away from the sink and turning off the water, he dried his hands on the coarse apron before untying the article and lifting the blue fabric from his shoulders to hang on the wall. Then, with quiet yet measured steps, he walked to the front door, unlocked it, and opened it.

The fact that Jesse Adams stood there nearly floored him.

Crinkling his brow slightly in an expression of confusion more open than he normally showed to his students, the Japanese man hesitated before asking, "Adams-san?" He also almost asked out of habit what the boy was doing here, but given the chill in the air and the fact that he was even here at all, he changed his mind quickly. "Come inside - you look chilled."

No, he wasn't going to ask. And no, he wasn't going to pester about the car - he could re-park in the morning if he wanted to. What mattered was getting Jesse indoors and feeling... if not completely safe, at least more relaxed than the anxious half-panic that was written on his face.

[Jesse Adams]

The entire time Jesse waited on the front step felt like eternity. Not just because of the cold (though he really wasn't feeling it despite the goosebumps on his newly pale arms), but rather because he just couldn't shake the feeling of being followed. True or not, it was making him somewhat paranoid, and he didn't like it. Hell, what if his phone was being tracked? Monitored? Oh Christ this was not good.

When the door opened, Jesse honestly never thought he'd be so happy to see his trainer in any capacity. Even the surprise, though warranted, didn't bother him. Somehow, Vincent had been flagged in his mind as safe, and now he was there, he would be okay.

He didn't even protest his trainer's greeting like he usually did. "Yeah. Hi." If he was trying to come off as normal, he really wasn't doing a good job. At the invite to come in, he glanced over his shoulder in a last ditch attempt to catch anyone following him before crossing the threshold. "Thank you," he said softly, almost in relief as the door shut behind them. His backpack slid from his shoulder, and he let it drop wherever it would fall.

"Mr. Meian. You said.... you said if I needed help, I could come to you. Does that still stand? I need to know." Between the almost wild, fearful look in his eyes and the near desperate way the question had come out, anyone could guess he had just gotten himself into a world of trouble. Perhaps met up with his old comrades. Instead, he was just trying to run from the one person he was supposed to look up to and feel safe around.

[Vincent Meian]

The shock of seeing the boy made Vincent glance up and over the shoulder half a second later, trying to see whatever threat was perceived. He saw nothing, but stepped aside to allow Jesse in regardless, closing and locking door once both were completely inside the home. It wasn't to lock anyone in - merely force of habit after living in a large city all his life.

The bag fell to the floor, and once again out of habit the trainer picked it up by the braided handle atop it, letting it rest against his leg as he straightened. If it had things that were needed for an overnight (or extended) stay, those would need to be placed elsewhere rather than in the entry hall. But the question remained; why was his student even here? What had made him seek out a man he barely trusted, in the middle of the longest night of winter? And without even a coat, he must have left in quite the hurry... was he in some sort of trouble?

Of course, the respectful address and the question (not to mention the way it was asked) immediately stopped all supposition on why the blonde was here in the first place.

"Yes, it does." The answer was simple, to the point. He had offered his help, and by his word the Japanese man would hold to it.

"...Are you hungry? I have begun preparations for dinner, if so." The question was asked without hinting or nudging, merely seeing if his student needed anything else for the moment. Dinner was still on schedule, but he could take a few moments away from preparation to make up a bed for his guest. If it was needed.

[Jesse Adams]

Vincent wouldn’t see the threat. For the moment it was in Jesse’s head, but he had no idea when that could, or would, change. He was just grateful for the refuge Vincent had granted to him. The instant the door was locked behind them he felt that tiny bit safer.

He didn’t even care when Vincent picked up the abandoned bag. He didn’t think he had the strength to hold it up anymore anyway. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what he’d thrown into it, or if anything could have broken when he’d dropped it. He just watched with a wary gaze as it rested against his trainer’s leg.

Yes. Yes. He was still allowed to come for help if it was needed. And goddammit, it was needed right now. He just didn’t know how to word it. How crazy did it sound that he was in a panic because his father had called him? Even with what Vincent might have picked up from the journal... well, it didn’t matter. That was why he was here.

In response to the question, he shook his head. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The afternoon had been spent in a trance like way, which hadn’t broken for things like lunch or dinner. But he wasn’t hungry. “No. I just...” He reached for his pocket to pull out his phone, managing to control the shaking of his hand, but not his fingers. They wrapped around the small device and he pulled it out. It felt like a lead weight, and he still wanted nothing more than to throw it as far away from himself as possible. “My father called me,” he finally said. “On a number he should never have had access to in the first place. He... he wants me to come home. And if I don’t, he’ll find a way to drag me back himself.” Though the words were spoken in a rush, he tripped over some, and felt himself go cold again at the thought. He might not like Hammel, but he didn’t want to go home. “He hired someone to find me. It’s how he got the number. I just... I don’t...” And that was all he could get out without his voice breaking. His fingers balled into familiar fists as he tried to get a grip on himself. He didn’t know what to do.

[Vincent Meian]

'My father called me.'

That, exactly as Jesse had supposed, explained everything. His trainer shifted minutely; pulling back of his shoulders slightly, a small redistribution of balance in his long legs, lifting his chin by bare centimeters. It was an unconscious change, one born out of instinct and years of applying the 'fight' portion of his fight-or-flight response to daily life. But all of those pieces put together someone who was more ready for a conflict, someone who was becoming defensive in response to the words.

Why shouldn't he? This was his student; his responsibility. The Japanese man had offered a safe place, a home to go to in times of need. He would defend that and his charge against anything he possibly could. Anything and anyone, using whatever means he had at his disposal. If that included his intimidating stature, temper, training, or accursed power, then so be it.

The explanation, though stumbled over and laced with anxiety, served to smooth the look of confusion on Vincent's face. It was replaced with a cool sort of understanding, and when the boy finally trailed off his teacher reached out carefully and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was a touch that could be easily shrugged away from - he wouldn't keep it there if it wasn't wanted. "Take off your shoes and follow me," he stated gently. "You may stay here as long as you need."

Pulling back his hand, the older man led the way to the living room, where his daughters were sitting together on the couch. Cassi (his younger) was watching a movie on the small but functional television, while Appoline (closer in age to Jesse) sat doodling on the couch. Both had looked up at the sound of voices and glanced curiously between their father and the newcomer. "Appoline, Cassiopeia, this is Jesse Adams," he introduced, gesturing to the boy. "He will be staying here for a while. Adams-san, these are my daughters."

There was formality in his tone, but it was touched with love and pride. His girls meant the world to him and it was very clear.

"Dinner will be in an hour," he told all of them, placing the backpack against the side of the couch. It was large enough to allow Vincent himself to stretch out, and comfortable enough for the whole family and guests to sit when they watched movies. It would be temporary (and they would set up a more permanent solution in the office later, if Jesse stayed longer than a the night), but at least it would be more than enough space. "Would you prefer to settle your sleeping arrangements or speak with me in the kitchen as I work?"

This statement was addressed to Jesse alone, and Vincent gave him his full attention. Nothing less would suffice.

[Jesse Adams]

However small the motion was, it was enough to make the already on edge teenager flinch. He recognized the stance as someone readying themselves for a fight, and regardless of his feelings for his trainer, he still shied away. It was reflex, nothing more, and he felt bad afterwards. "Sorry," he muttered, staring at the ground in something akin to shame.

Much as he tried, he couldn't help but tug his shoulder out from under Vincent's touch. Good intentions or not, he wasn't a fan of being touched in general. Right now he was in overdrive, and just about anything was fair game to send him right over the edge. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment, ad with his father fresh on his mind he wasn't going to receive it well.

Still, in an uncharacteristic display of obedience he kicked off his sneakers and followed Vincent inside. He didn't know how long he planned to stay, or what his plan even was. All he knew was that he needed to stay the hell away from... everything.

The girls were given a curious look as Jesse jammed his hands in his pockets, and were given little more than a tiny nod in greeting. His bangs spilled across his face as he tipped his chin down. There was nothing more awkward than being in someone else's home and only knowing one person.

And that person was his trainer.

The tone he took with the girls surprised him. With someone as stern as his trainer could be, he had expected.... well, not that. It was a warm, gentle tone and he had no idea what to do with it.

His chin snapped back up at the question. Something was telling him it was safer with Vincent, even if he didn't always see eye to eye with him. "I'll go with you," he relented. If he stayed with the girls, he wouldn't know what to do with himself beyond fidget and stress out.

... Not that he wouldn't be doing that with Vincent, too.

[Vincent Meian]

The reaction wasn't expected, but it was understood despite the fact that the older man did not relax. He'd entered into a more aggressive state -a lingering reaction from having very poor control of a very volatile temper until he was an adult- in front of someone who was already on edge. Jesse's reaction was perfectly reasonable, and thus a simple head shake was a good answer. "You do not need to apologize to me."

The shying was expected as well, and thus it was with no offense that he pulled his hand away. Some people did not work in the same tactile sense that he did; that was fine.

The younger of the girls seemed openly interested in this new boy and said hello, but seemed to catch on that he was nervous and went back to her movie with a bright smile. Appoline, ever shyer, muttered a similar response before burying herself back into her sketchbook. They found nothing strange in their father's way of speaking, nor in the fact that someone they didn't know was staying in their house. It was simply something that happened - no more, no less.

Question answered, Vincent nodded and beckoned the teen to follow him again. "It is this way."

Leading Jesse into the kitchen, the tall man slipped the apron back over his head, glancing over to the blonde as he tied the lacing behind his back. There was a bit to do, but everything would be done quickly after the preparations were complete. "Do you cook?" he asked, trying to get his student's mind off the subject a little. "I would not mind a second pair of hands, but if you feel uncomfortable you may make yourself comfortable instead."

There were a number of places to chose from, and the kitchen was still warm from the heat of the oven earlier in the day. The island in the center of the room (extra counter and cupboard space) had four stools set around it that peeked over it in a bar-like fashion, and a table just outside the tile had a number of chairs around its rectangular frame. There was also plenty of room to stand and lean, as the workspace was rather expansive.

[Jesse Adams]

At least Vincent understood, and let him be. In the past he had had various adults react with more contact - like hugs - that only served to make him shy away that much harder. As for the apology, he just shrugged. "It's not like I mean to. It's like a reflex." A reflex he had no idea if he would ever get over. He could think of only a few people he didn't shy away from. Most of them were women, and family members, though even his mother had been flinched away from sometimes. Most of it seemed to depend on whether he was expecting the contact or not.

If he hadn't been in such a state upon arrival, he might have actually engaged with the girls. Despite his perceived nature, due to his little sister Jesse had a soft spot for kids. He'd already swept Clement under his wing, sort of. But right now he wasn't up for socializing beyond seeking what he needed from Vincent. Maybe later, once he calmed the hell down.

... If he calmed the hell down.

He followed Vincent into the kitchen, realizing in a very detatched way that the scene would have been entertaining at any other time. His huge, tough trainer in the kitchen. Cooking. In an apron. Yeah, if he wasn't worked up, he would have laughed. Instead he shook his head. "No. My mom never taught me much. I was too busy overachieving anyway." This was said with an almost bitter tone, mostly because overachieving had never been his idea. "Not like now." Though it was almost liberating to not have to worry about his grades the same way he had to in L.A., it was also weird.

Instead of helping, he situated himself on a stool by the island. Almost instantly his leg started to jig up and down anxiously, and he pulled out his phone again. It was off now, but he was still treating it like a snake that could strike at any time. "I'm sorry I just showed up. I didn't know what else to do."

[Vincent Meian]

People had reflexes for a reason. It was the body's conditioned response to various things, most commonly trauma or comfort. Some people pushed into touch, others pulled away - it was all about how they'd experienced such things in the past. Given what little of Jesse's past he knew... the response was reasonable.

The fact that Vincent was domestic at home was mostly a result of the fact that his wife very clearly and adamantly was not. Not that the poor woman hadn't tried, but some tragedies need not be repeated daily. So, with his cooking not only being functional and skillful but a genuinely enjoyed hobby, the tall man took to it every day without complaint. (The apron, of course, was designed only to keep food from splattering his clothes. No more, no less - there weren't even any pockets on the plain navy fabric.) Of course, not many people saw him cook, but that was more of a matter of him rarely inviting people over than anything else.

Finishing the tie smartly, the trainer glanced over the boy sitting in his kitchen curiously. There was a lot of bitterness there, but no fear. Perhaps there was a reason why his mother was not featured in his dreams (or, perhaps, simply not mentioned).

"It is all right," he replied, tone honest and open as he retrieved a mug from the cupboard. Jesse may not have been hungry, but he still looked chilled - hot tea or perhaps some coffee would warm him. "If I were concerned about you visiting me, I would not have offered you my home as refuge." There was a pause, and he held the cup up by the handle. "Would you prefer coffee or tea? I have a selection of both and you still seem cold."

That, and having something aside from that phone to hang onto would probably help.

[Jesse Adams]

Just once, Jesse wouldn't have minded his issues with trust and touch to be lifted for the day. To see how normal people functioned without worrying about having to duck away from a potential swat, or worse. It had been a long time since he had felt like that. Normal.

The domestic feel was... alien, yet strangely familiar to the teenager. How often had he sat on the counters watching his mother cook or bake, handing her things when asked? That seemed so long and out of place now, like his life had fractured into two separate pieces. Or more, now. Domestic things had no real place in his life anymore, but to have it with Vincent? Just a little weird.

"Why did you?" Surely he knew some of his past by now. Why was he willing to expose his daughters to that? If their roles were reversed, he wouldn't have let himself within a mile of them. Clearly, Vincent was willing to extend trust. Even when it wasn't fully deserved. As for the question, he chanced looking up. "Coffee." The chances of him sleeping tonight were slim. He might as well start the caffeine intake now.

His foot continued to jig as he twisted his phone in his hand, setting it down only to pick it back up again. Distraction. He needed a distraction. "... How old are you daughters?" Maybe it was a bad topic, but maybe it would allow for that tone to revisit his trainer's voice again.

[Vincent Meian]

If Jesse wanted to see how 'normal' people functioned, he was in the wrong house. Granted, there were a lot more things that were typical of the family than not, but that was still only part of the dynamic the group had with each other. But given that it was Jesse looking in... they probably would seem like the most caring family around, and it wouldn't be a big exaggeration.

Take the request for coffee with a nod, Vincent moved to the coffee pot and reset it for a fresh pot. He didn't obtain the same effect from caffeine that most other people did, and Nakia would likely have paperwork when she returned home. If she was still remotely awake enough to do it. "I do so because I trust that you will not put my family in danger," he reasoned, setting the machine to do its work after checking the water level. "You are not the same person you were six months ago, no do I believe you are the same now as you were two years ago. I trust that you came to me for help, rather than to cause trouble intentionally."

Looking up from the pot, his light colored eyes sought the younger man's from across the counter. It was an honest statement, as everything he said was. Even his wording was precise - if there were to be trouble unintentionally from the blonde's arrival in his home, it would be something the trainer could deal with easily. That Jesse had come here without that as his primary motive was the most important thing.

The topic shift was not subtle, but it didn't need to be. There needed to be a new line of conversation, and the subject had been chosen by his guest. So be it. "Cassi celebrated her thirteenth birthday on Christmas Eve," he answered with a slight smile, moving back to the kitchen sink to retrieve the washed vegetables and place them on the island's cutting board. "Appoline is seventeen. She attends the Institute as well, as a student. Perhaps you have seen her occasionally; I have heard her drawings are in the school newspaper frequently."

The fact that his voice changed when speaking about his daughters was something unknown to the veteran, but if told he wouldn't have been surprised. The women in his life meant the very world to him; why shouldn't he reflect that in his tone and his face?

[Jesse Adams]

Anything could be considered more normal than how Jesse had grown up. Kids pushed beyond their limits to succeed until they broke, a father that nothing was ever good enough for, and a mother that did her best to hold everything together and keep her children as safe as possible. Jesse had watched his brother crack under the pressure, turning away from a football scholarship and his classes to get drunk, stoned, and run wild with his friends. Once Keith had become a black mark, Jesse’s father had turned to him to become the star. Suddenly grades that had been passable before were now grounds for punishment in one form or another. Bronze and silver medals at track meets – once celebrated – weren’t good enough now. Everything he did involved scrambling and pushing himself to meet his father’s expectations, or suffer the consequences. Breaking free of that when he’d come to Hammel had been a godsend at first. Then he’d let his rebellion get out of control, landing him in the biggest trouble of his life. At least he was trying to fix things now.

And if his father came to drag him home, all of that would be ruined.

Now he was still, the chill from outside was starting to catch up with him. Though he had a hoodie tossed in the backseat of his car, it was still sitting there. All he had on was jeans and a thin t-shirt. Not exactly winter weather gear, but he was already feeling exposed enough. He bit down on any attempt his body made at shivering. There was only so much feeling weak and helpless he could handle for one day. Buying into the cold took it just one step too far. “I won’t.” And he meant it. Even threats from M.S.A.D. were null and void. Few members were left in the area, and of them Fifi had cut her ties and reformed, and Max... was hiding outside Pilot Ridge masquerading as a human under a new name. If he was even still there. “I know what everyone thinks about me, and I don’t blame them. I deserve it. And if I didn’t think I didn’t have anywhere else that was safe, trust me. I wouldn’t be here.” The fact that he was leery about Hammel’s safety of all places was a little scary.

The only possible trouble that could follow him would be either Dr. Neville or the headmistress’ wrath for running away. Hell, he was missing the curfew still hanging over his head from his probation. Oh well. He’d deal with it. The other possibility was... no. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t say he was coming, just... said he might. Or should. He couldn’t remember now. Either way, the anxious look was back with only his thoughts fueling it. The teenager put his elbows on the island counter and hunched over, fingers digging in his blond hair as he rested his forehand on his hands.

He all but latched onto the new topic in an effort to distance himself from his thoughts. “She’s a year older than my sister. Sasha’s twelve.” And hopefully as innocent as he left her almost four years ago. “But she’ll be thirteen in April.” Maybe if he was lucky she’d manifest too. Get her the hell out of that house. As for Appoline, he hadn’t looked at her closely enough to determine if he knew her at all. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Despite his desire to keep from showing he was cold, his arms wrapped around his body. Why couldn’t his father have pulled this in the summer?

[Vincent Meian]

The Adams home was a poor one, indeed. Physical abuse, while terrible and inconceivable for a loving parent, was second to emotional abuse. Telling your children they weren't good enough, that they didn't deserve the things they had because they were somehow not up to your standards - this was fundamentally wrong to the Japanese man, despite the strict culture he'd been raised in. There was a difference between being strict and being cruel, and Mr. Adams had crossed that line a very long time ago.

If he'd been asked his opinion on the matter, Vincent would have easily said that Jesse was doing well for someone who missed two years of school. His grades were rising, his training proceeding at a consistent rate of understanding, and there had not been disciplinary action against him for anything more than tardiness in months. Even the fight that they'd had at the beginning of November proved that he was making progress; he was able to be upset in front of someone, openly, without resorting to violence. The resolution of that conflict was an even bigger step, showing that even someone the teen didn't trust was brought into his inner world because he knew that they could help. Or, at least, relate.

In his mind, Jesse was doing marvelously. If anyone had made as much progress emotionally during the year, he couldn't think of them off the top of his head. Anything to set back that progress would be fought against with everything the trainer had as well, and he was fairly certain that the administrative board would agree that the blonde could not leave the campus yet. No matter what his father said or did.

Vincent studied the boy's face and posture, mistaking the cold for insecurity (though that was probably not inaccurate either). "I believe you," he answered, his tone filled with quiet confidence. It was all he said, as addressing the blonde's self-deprecation right now probably wouldn't help matters, though it felt like it should. Jesse would have to see for himself that not everyone thought he was a monster in human skin.

Of course, he also hadn't thought that punishment was on the teen's mind, so when the anxiety flickered across his face and he buried his hands in his pale hair, the tall man had to resist strongly to reaching out and touching fair, cold-reddened skin. Instead, he held back and spoke softly, preparing the area on the island for cutting vegetables. "You have my word that you will be safe here, and that you may come to me at any time if you feel threatened or overwhelmed. I will not turn you away, regardless of who knocks on my door after you."

Moving through the motions of chopping scallions, daikon radish, and a small kabocha squash with relative ease, the older man continued to talk, seeing that while the conversation didn't seem to be all that interesting to his student... well, it was distracting enough. "She attends the local middle school, so perhaps if your sister were here they could meet," he stated, moving from one vegetable to the next in seamless transition. He also didn't hide the fact that his younger daughter wasn't a meta - there was no point in doing so, as he'd care for her regardless of whether she manifested or not. "Cassi is a very friendly girl, and enjoys very much meeting new people - I am certain that you will see more of that the longer you stay."

Stopping briefly in the midst of cutting the large pale radish, Vincent wiped his hands again and pressed a button on the coffeepot to make it stop reminding him that it was done. He poured a cup of the black liquid, brought with him a sugar bowl and spoon, and placed all three items on the island within not only Jesse's reach but limited line of sight. It would help to warm him up, at least. "There is both milk and cream in the refrigerator, if you prefer your coffee that way."

Personally, he'd grown to like the flavor of coffee as it was, but not everyone felt the same way - Nakia drank it with quite a lot of milk but no sugar, whereas Sean took it with both.

Going back to the vegetables, it took a moment's thought before he started talking again. "As for Appoline, she is very shy, so I am not surprised that you may not have met her in passing. She has a tendency to shirk from attention." This was not accusatory, or even pitying - merely a way things were. He did not blame his daughter for her social inadequacies, but he didn't feel the need to explain them either. That was her own business. "If you asked, however, I believe she would show you her sketches. She is very good - better, even, than she was at gymnastics."

She could never compete, of course - metahumans were not allowed in competitions, especially those with physical powers on sports teams. But that didn't seem to be a problem for the tall man. He simply smiled gently, as if remembering going to her practices and once again feeling that pride of a parent whose child honestly enjoys what they do. He wished Hammel had a gymnastics team, honestly. It would probably boost her self-confidence a little more if she could participate in that sport.

[Jesse Adams]

For a long time, Jesse had perceived his home life as normal. It hadn’t been until he’d started spending time with his friends at their houses that he’d started to clue into the fact that things were a little amiss. Other boys had fathers that engaged with them, whether it was throwing a ball around in the yard or teaching them something new. They were affectionate. He hadn’t known what to do with that information. Sure, his mother more than made up for his father’s distance with her own affection, or at least that’s what he had told himself. Looking back, he wasn’t so sure. He loved his mother, of course he did. He didn’t blame her for anything that had happened as he and his siblings were growing up. Hell, he knew they weren’t the only ones to deal with his father’s wrath growing up. The more he thought about it now that he was older, the more he wanted to find a way to help her get away from him.

Though Vincent had been privy to his journal, his dreams only told small parts of his experiences. Whether or not he actually wanted to share the things he had already been over with Dr Neville, well, he wasn’t yet sure. Perhaps in time, especially if he ended up staying longer than a few hours. If for no other reason than to help him understand why he was forcing himself into trust.

The teenager had no illusions as to how he was doing at Hammel. It could have been years of being told that his efforts weren’t good enough, or just having a lack of reassurance that he was doing well. Either way, he wasn’t stretching himself to get top grades anymore. Some things came naturally, and others were a bit of a struggle. In his mind, as long as he passed, he was doing okay. As for training, he didn’t even want to think about it. With that alone, he was probably going to remain at the institute until he was at least twenty two.

“At least someone does,” he said with only the slightest hint of venom. Maybe not everyone thought he was so bad, but after all the time he’d spent trying to antagonize everyone, it sure felt that way most of the time. All he wanted out of this was some sort of safe haven. The fact it was with his trainer was something he’d just have to deal with.

Though he was grateful for Vincent’s hospitality, he did snort slightly without looking up. “You don’t know him.” Not that his father would ever actually track him down to here. But he knew adult men that had easily cowed to his father. He was tall, imposing, and had a certain something that most people recognized without realizing it, and before they knew it they were giving in to whatever Michael Adams wanted. He was aware that Vincent was a veteran, and imposing himself, but still. He didn’t know anyone that hadn’t bent under his father’s will. “He’s...” Scary? That was too small a word. “He knows how to get what he wants,” he finished softly. And he had ways to get what he wanted.

At least talking about Vincent’s daughters provided a small distraction. It helped that Jesse’s soft spot for kids was making him feel a little warmer. “Sasha loves everyone.” Even people that didn’t rightly deserve it. “At least, she did when I was recruited. I’ve sent her emails, and she seems okay.” Of course, she could have also learned to be just like him. A skilled liar when the situation called for it. That scared him. “I wish she was here sometimes. I miss her.” His brother, he could do without. But Sasha? She was his light. She would probably enjoy the Vermont atmosphere, even if winter was ridiculous cold. Metahumans fascinated her.

Once the coffee was placed in front of him, Jesse latched onto the mug and pulled it towards himself. He didn’t need to water it down, at least not right now. He liked black coffee, but if he really needed to keep himself up, he’d load it with sugar. Sometimes the combination of heaps of sugar and caffeine helped kick him through a particularly tough hour. Chances were, he’d be doing that later. Or dashing out for a case or two of Red Bull. Either way, he wasn’t going down tonight without a hell of a good fight. “Just black,” he assured before taking a drink.

Now he had mental notes about both girls. Not for malicious intent, of course, but simply so that he knew how to approach each one, if it came to that. Still, the idea of the older one being interested in sports got his attention. It was like his track. He still loved to run, even if it wasn’t for medals anymore. He’d managed to set a few school records for time when he’d been staying with Max and attending the baseline human high school, before he’d run away. ... Well, he hadn’t. Kenneth had, but that didn’t matter anymore. Kenneth had ceased to exist the second he’d run away.

Still, something was weighing on his mind. “I’m missing curfew,” he said quietly. “It’s still part of my probation.” He wasn’t sure if staying with his trainer counted as being accounted for, and he didn’t want yet another black mark on his record. But he didn’t want to go back.