Time Warp: Off The Map [Rhea]

[Cecil Wathen]

[17th February 2012]

Cecil knew just how lucky he had been to find a hotel with vacancies that was willing to take him, especially considering that he had turned up unannounced, in the middle of the night and with a young puppy in tow. The bus out of New York had brought him to this rather quaint little town in the mountains, and whilst Cecil knew he was somewhere in Vermont that had been the full extent of his knowledge until the hotel owner had mentioned Pilot Ridge. He'd never even heard of the town and yet it was where he was going to be staying for the next few days. Just until he got his head around things. He would go back to New York once it was all sorted. Once it was all...

Forcing himself to open his eyes, Cecil sighed deeply and stared at the empty space in the bed beside him. The hotel room was dark and silent save for the soft breathing coming from the Australian Kelpie puppy that was sound asleep on the end of the bed. He hadn't taken the time to pack properly before leaving the apartment, barely managing to contain his sensibilities enough to remember to grab some clean clothes and a toothbrush. He'd needed to get away, to get out of that apartment and just... gone. Away from that city, away from Aaron, and especially away from the man his own husband had been lying with on their couch.

Cecil's phone had been switched off since he had gotten on the bus out of New York, and now it lay inside the drawer of the night stand next to the hotel bed. There it would stay, for now at least. Until he had time to come to terms with exactly what had happened, and decided what he should do now. The Welshman had no idea how long he'd been lying sleepless in the bed, but when he was disturbed by Mephit yelping herself awake he looked over to the clock on the desk and read that it was 6:24am. As much as he wanted to lie in the bed and wallow all day, he knew that he had to at least try to function on some level, for the pup's sake if not for his own. Eventually he managed to drag himself out of the bed, shivering as the chill air prickled at his skin, and after making sure Mephit had drank something he got in the shower and forced himself to be determined to go look around the town. Moping in his hotel room would not change what had happened less than thirteen hours before.

Showered and dressed to face the winter mountain air, Cecil clipped on Mephit's lead before heading out of the hotel. Everywhere was still mostly quiet, most sensible people no doubt hiding away from the snow and bitter cold, and after the pup had done her business the pair began to head into town in search of something resembling breakfast. However it wasn't long until Mephit began to tire, so Cecil scooped her up and tucked her inside his jacket to carry her, with her head poking out so she could still see the world around them. It wasn't long after that when Cecil realised he had absolutely no clue where he was going. He rubbed at his exhausted eyes, the tiredness and hurt taking their toll, and sat on a nearby bench as he started to question just how it had all gone so very badly wrong. After everything he had sacrificed to get to New York, what on Earth had he done to deserve this?

From her nest inside Cecil's jacket, Mephit whined softly.

[Rhea Hartman]

There were days when Rhea missed New York. Days when Pilot Ridge was just too small, too quiet, too white, too lacking in any halfway decent Ethiopian food. Days when she got stuck on school zone speed enforcement for two weeks, sitting in her patrol car and watching the Subarus scoot by at 20, 21, 19 miles per hour, and wondered if the NYPD would make her start back as a bottom-rung cadet if she transferred. 

And then there were days like today. Rhea stepped out into the early February morning and inhaled a breath of cold and semi-darkness. The middle of winter and the peak of summer were her favorite times of year to run. There was something about the extremes, pushing herself to keep running when her face was numb or sweat poured down her back. She jogged down her apartment stairs and onto the icy sidewalk. Silence greeted her—Rhea never ran with headphones. She relished the empty streets, the rasp of her own breath, and the pounding of her footsteps.

Rhea's usual route took her in a four mile loop, starting and ending at her apartment and lapping around the nicer residential district and the center of town. She ran past sleeping houses, tiny parks, snow-laden trees and stirring coffee shops. The cold always spurred her on, and Rhea could taste the hint of iron in the back of her throat that meant she was making good time. She had just passed mile three and was considering taking a more direct but challenging shortcut home when she noticed the man sitting on the bench.

In the scheme of things, it wasn't unusual for him to be there. That's what benches were for, after all. But Rhea was a police officer, and she was trained to pay attention to things that were out of place. And an unfamiliar man sitting alone on the side of a small-town street at seven in the morning in twenty degree weather struck her as odd. She watched him curiously as her route brought her down his side of the road. He didn't look homeless, or drunk, or like he was waiting for anyone. In fact, if his crumpled shoulders and hanging head were anything to go by, he looked about ready to throw himself under a bus.

A pair of running shoes paused in front of Cecil. The shoes were attached to formidable legs, hands on hips, a broad red jacked and a face wincing against the cold. A few stray pieces of black hair drifted in the wind, and smoke billowed from her mouth. The figure smiled and wiped her nose on her wrist. “Morning! Cold enough for ya?”

[Cecil Wathen]

In truth, the winter didn't usually bother Cecil all that much. Sure back home it had never gotten to the extremes that he had experienced while living in New York, but he had always been a very outdoorsy kid and had quickly learned how to bundle up well in order to keep playing outside long after all the other kids had retreated back indoors. Besides, he'd been a scout right up until he'd been snatched from his home and dragged to frigging Switzerland. He'd camped halfway up Garnedd Ugain in the middle of January and gone snowboarding in the Swiss Alps. He could cope with being outside in the snow.

He had hoped the chill would help clear his head a bit, help him refresh his thoughts, but it just served to be reminding him that he was in a very strange place where he knew absolutely no-one. He couldn't even phone his family for comfort because with the time difference it was the middle of the night back home. They would all be sound asleep, except maybe for Reese who might be up caring for his new baby daughters, but on the off-chance they were finally getting some sleep, Cecil would not want to disturb them. Besides... What the hell would he say?

A part of Cecil wished that he could deny it, that he could just pretend it wasn't what it seemed and that tomorrow he could just go back to the apartment in NYC and everything would be well again. How could his husband have done that? After all these years... Perhaps it had been an accident. But then again, how could someone accidentally slip their cock into someone else, on the sofa, while their other half was conveniently at work?

Cecil was so lost in his miserable thoughts that he wasn't even aware of anyone approaching until Mephit barked loudly from her nest inside his jacket. The young pup squirmed and wriggled in excitement, tail thrumming against Cecil's chest as he fought to gently calm her down. “Hey, shhh, missy. You're gonna wake up half the town.” Cecil's accent still carried it's Welsh heritage, toned down little after years of living in London and New York. The Kelpie quickly calmed down a bit but her quiet whines of excitement broke through the quiet of the morning.

Glancing up at the rather formidable looking woman, Cecil managed to force a small smile to curl his lips. It wasn't too hard, years as a bartender had ensured that he could keep a civil demeanour whatever crisis was going on, but if the woman was paying even the slightest bit of actual attention the ruse would be evident in the lack of glimmer in his brown eyes. “Nah, this is mild. Don't you get proper winters here?” The jest in his tone was there but it was tired and half-hearted. “Glad I'm only passing through if this is the best you can do in lack of a decent gym.” His own words made him cringe. Was he only passing through? Where would he be tomorrow? Next week? Next month? What the hell was he going to do?

[Rhea Hartman]

The red-coated woman's smile widened as Mephit's nose bobbed wildly. "What a cute little dog! Can I pet her?" She squatted down on her heels in front of the bench and laughed as the Kelpie frantically licked her fingers. "What's her name?"

The contrast between the wriggling puppy and her owner could hardly have been more acute. Rhea watched a smile like oil appear and then slither off the man's face. She felt a stab of sympathy for the poor sod, whoever he was. "Why run on a treadmill when you can be outside? The cold keeps your blood moving." She scratched Mephit underneath the chin while deftly avoiding the puppy teeth trying to make friends with her knuckles. "But between us, yeah, the gyms are pretty awful."

Hm. A little piece of the puzzle fell into place, though it raised as many questions as answers. She gave Mephit a final pat and stood. "Well, if you're just passing through, the bus station is about a mile off. But if you want somewhere to wait, I can show you where a decent breakfast place is. We might be able to get some bacon for your little girl here."

[Cecil Wathen]

For such a young dog Mephit was so very unafraid and wanted to befriend absolutely everyone, something which amused Cecil but also brought him some chagrin. He honestly believed that anyone could just walk up to her and pick up her lead and she would follow them, eager to start on her next adventure. Hopefully some training down the line would help teach her to be a bit more wary, without losing that playful and happy spirit. “Yeah, she's really friendly. She's called Mephit.”

Cecil unfastened his jacket enough to let the black and tan bundle of fur bound out to greet the stranger, but he kept his fingers hooked through the lead loop so the pup couldn't actually run off. Mephit greeted the woman with licks and snuffles of affection, tail wagging so hard her entire body was swaying, but her owner merely gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess. I used to love running through the hills at home, but...” He gave a quiet, defeated sigh. “Lived in London and New York for... too long, I think. Probably not quite so life-or-death to jog down the street here.”

As the woman stood and spoke again, Cecil was quiet for a moment as he considered his options. The bus station was tempting; just hop on whatever bus was there and see where it took him. He'd heard that Colorado was quite nice. On the other hand, travelling with a young dog was difficult and besides, he couldn't keep running away forever. “I'm... honestly not sure when I'll be moving on. Soon I would think, but... I honestly don't know what I'm doing.” Admitting that was hard, and Cecil was quiet again as he fought back the tears that were threatening to well to the surface. After a long moment he was able to speak again without his voice cracking. “But pointers to a good breakfast place would be great. Thank you, miss...?”

[Rhea Hartman]

"Mephit, huh?" While unfamiliar with Dungeons and Dragons lore (in fact there were few things further from her realm of experience), Rhea at least knew how to treat a puppy. She rustled the dog playfully around the ears. "She sure is! What a sweetheart."

The woman looked up when Cecil mentioned New York, and she paid for her lapse of attention with a frenzy of licks on her chin and mouth. "Ppthh...New York, really?" She clamped the jumping puppy down with more petting on her shoulders. "I lived there for years. I still never run with headphones in, it'll get you mugged. But there's some great hiking trails out on the east side of town, and hardly any crime around a small town like this." And she would know.

As Rhea listened to the man haltingly admit his lack of a destination, the scales in her mind tipped heavily from 'wandering melancholic type' to 'recent life crisis.' Crumpled on a bench in the snow while his puppy frolicked around his ankles, this was clearly a man lost in every sense of the word. Poor bloke, she thought again to herself. Well, maybe there was something she could do. She didn't have to be at work for a few more hours yet.

Rhea gave Mephit a final pat and extended a hand to help Cecil to his feet. "Hey, we've all been there. Pilot Ridge is a nice little town, you could have picked a lot worse place to land on your ass."

She started down the street back the way she'd come, but at a walk rather than a jog this time. "My name's Rhea," she replied. "I work for the county police and fire departments. Where're you from originally?" She hadn't been able to place his accent, and had learned that people tended to get offended if you guess their origin incorrectly. Occasionally shout in your face, jab you in the chest offended.

[Cecil Wathen]

Mephit was quite clearly revelling in the attention from the stranger, an excited yap escaping from her as she tried to bat at the hand that was fussing her head. Her and her owner were like night and day sat on that cold bench, but her clear joy did bring a tiny touch of ease to Cecil's heart. At least the late night journey hadn't upset her, and she was clearly doing just fine being away from home and away from... her other owner.

Cecil gave a small nod of his head, fidgeting slightly with the lead loop between his fingers. “Yeah. I moved there about two years ago. Quickly learned that it makes even London look tame. I mean, I'm a pretty big guy, but even I wouldn't go through Brownsville on my own after dark.” Talking was helping take a touch of the edge off, giving his mind something else to focus on other than his current deeply hurt state, and he honestly didn't much care if he was rambling a bit. It was much more than likely he'd never see this woman again after today; what did it matter what she thought of him?

With a weary smile Cecil took the proffered hand and stood, though he of course did not actually put any weight into the contact. Instead he turned it into a shake once he was upright. He gave a short, tired chuckle at her choice of words to describe the quaint little town. “Maybe that should be the town motto. Pilot Ridge – You might be miserable, but you'll still think our mountains are pretty.” Which he had to admit, they were. Maybe he would hire a car later on and go for an explore around a bit, see what was here. It wouldn't hurt to spend another day or so here. Just until he worked out what the hell he was supposed to do now.

As the woman who introduced herself as Rhea started to walk off, Cecil was quick to quietly interject. “Oh, you can just point me in the right direction if you want. I wouldn't want to interrupt your run, or take any more of your time than I already have.” It would of course have been rude not to introduce himself now though. “I'm Cecil. I just got here, obviously, but I'm from Wales originally. Aberystwyth, on the coast.” Cecil hadn't felt homesick for many years, but mention of his hometown caused that uncomfortable little stirring in his chest. “Are you a native New Yorker?”

[Rhea Hartman]

Rhea nodded with her hands on her hips. "Smart guy. I worked for the NYPD while I was there. A lot of places aren't as dangerous as people think as long as you're not being stupid, but you wouldn't believe the stories we got." She rolled her eyes. "Macho idiots who think they're hot stuff if they carry a switchblade in their pocket. We've sent a lot of those off to the ER."

Rhea returned the shake with a much warmer smile than his own. Now that they were both standing they were nearly the same height, with the woman perhaps a hair or two taller. "Careful, or they'll stick you on some tourism committee," she laughed. "They're very enthusiastic about that sort of thing." One of her coworkers had tried to persuade her to help out with a public safety seminar once. Rhea had said that unless they wanted her trying to teach all the old money and overenthusiastic lawyers in Pilot Ridge how to break sternums, they'd be better off finding someone else.

The woman paused and looked back over her shoulder with faint surprise on her face. "Oh no, it's fine. I've got time, and I'll finish my run later." She gestured with one arm down the street. "It's not far."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Cecil." Rhea nodded and resumed her course down the block. He seemed polite and gentlemanly, in a down-to-earth kind of way. "I'm not. My daddy was in the navy, so I'm from all over. Never crossed the Atlantic, though." She looked curiously at her companion (companions, if you counted the puppy). "What's it like?"

[Cecil Wathen]

It had taken Cecil a long time to adjust to living in the states. Back home owning a gun without a license would land you in jail, and even with a license carrying one in a public place would also land you in jail. For the first few months every sudden noise had made him startle and he expected to see someone holding a gun around every corner. Thankfully he had never experienced a nightmare moment like that in the flesh, but the horror stories kept him constantly wary. “I can very easily believe the stories, sadly. All it takes is one nutter with a gun or a knife, and suddenly there's headlines across the ocean.”

Rhea's comment about the tourism committee actually brought a tired chuckle out of the Welshman, and he gave a small shrug of his broad shoulders. “I suppose I should keep it quiet that I studied sports tourism, then? I imagine you get a lot of hikers up here in the summer, but I don't much fancy trying to hand out brochures to them.” Cecil's degree was a long time ago and so very removed from the life he had now. So utterly useless.

As Rhea commented that she didn't mind showing him the way, Cecil gave a grateful smile and gave Mephit a gentle fuss before following the way Rhea lead. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I know missy here will be getting really hungry about now.” Cecil's own stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of food, but he knew he would have to eat something.

“It's good to meet you too, Rhea.” Mephit trotted next to Cecil, occasionally playfully biting and chewing on her lead. Cecil listened carefully as Rhea talked briefly about her past, and he gave a soft nod of his head when she finished. Then she asked about his home. “Aber? It's... perfect.” The note of wistful longing was clear in his voice. “The ocean on one side, the mountains and valleys on the other. Green and quiet and peaceful and just... home... I miss it more than I can say.” He sniffed hard, forcing back the tears that were once more brimming to the surface, and tried to change the subject. “What's life like here? Not a patch on the drama of New York, I'd imagine.”

[Rhea Hartman]

Rhea was not a civically minded person. Occasionally, when her political apathy accumulated enough guilt and the current episode of The Bachelorette was a re-run anyway, she turned on the late-night news and watched for a while. Then she remembered how fed-up she got with politicians and their endless, ineffectual talking and turned it off again.

Local news she followed closely, because city mayors and referendums about law enforcement funding actually did something. In her mind that wasn't politics, that was work. When she did bother to get involved in elections she usually leaned conservative. She had voted for Bush both years and then Obama because he was black, a fact that she enjoyed using to horrify the liberal gentry of Pilot Ridge. One notable exception, as Cecil had brought up, was gun control. It was her opinion that the president of the NRA aught to be arrested, and she'd show anyone who bleated 'free speech' a row of bodies and the "clear and present danger" clause in the first amendment.

She sighed. "Most of the stories don't even make the headlines. Just everyday crime for the police to deal with." But she didn't elaborate, as Cecil from Wales was depressed enough without hearing about the unpleasant parts of police work. His weary chuckle pleased her. "We do, and no, you don't." She smiled another sly smile. "New York, Boston, Philly, they all empty in the summer. They're rich and cranky, and if you gave them a brochure they'd probably hand you their luggage."

Mephit gave another yap of excitement, and Rhea couldn't resist a pat mid-walk. "I bet she is. What a cutie." She shivered a little and zipped up her coat. The chill of the morning was starting to set in now that she was stationary and drenched in sweat, and she wouldn't mind a plate of hot food herself.

Her father's job in the military meant that Rhea's family had moved every two years and always lived on nigh-identical navy bases. Even while she lived in New York she had changed apartments frequently; she liked the shake-up and exploring new neighborhoods. But even though she had never had much attachment to particular places, as Cecil described the landscape of Aber she felt a twinge of his homesickness. She wanted to ask more about it, but it looked like the poor stranger would start crying if she did. So she let him shift the subject towards Pilot Ridge.

"No, it's not," she said with a laugh. "Honestly, some days I feel an inch away from packing up and moving back. But once you're used to this it's hard to leave it." She gestured around at the silence and pine trees heavy with snow. "I can't say I miss traffic outside my window all hours of the day. People are nicer, it's quiet and pretty." She exhaled a cloud of white smoke. "And it's not as boring as I thought it'd be. You get some odd people in small towns, and there's a high population of metas so there's usually interesting stories floating around." She shrugged. "And my brother and his family live nearby, so that's worth it for me. I can always visit New York."

[Cecil Wathen]

It wasn't that he was completely naïve to the very real gun threat back home; just because there were strict gun control laws didn't mean they were always followed. He could very vividly remember several incidents where someone had gone postal and taken out multiple people with a weapon, but it had never seemed to be anywhere near the same frequency or severity as it had been in America. In truth, what he had read about the NRA terrified him to the core.

As they spoke, Cecil found himself warming to Rhea a little. Her conversation was free and easy enough to listen to, and the mindless chattering was helping to keep his mind away from more painful subjects. Of course he knew that he would have to face them eventually, but for now it was a relief to just be able to talk without the pressure of having to face the reality of what it was that had actually brought him here. “All the rich bastards come up here, huh? I can kind of see why though. Compared to the city, this place is an Eden.”

Her compliment to Mephit caused a slightly warmer smile to curl the corner of Cecil's lips, and he ruffled his pup's ears gently. “Thanks. I've not had her all that long, obviously, but she already means so much to me. She can be a little terror, but she's a sweetheart really.”

Cecil listened intently as Rhea spoke about the sleepy little town, jiggling the lead slightly so Mephit could play with it as they walked. His attention visibly perked as Rhea mentioned the high population of meta's being in town, and he gave a thoughtful nod of his head. “I see.” It was reassuring to know at least. He'd heard of some small towns being so overtly anti-meta that he had been a little worried about just where he'd end up. Granted his own ability was hardly overt, but it was good to know he wouldn't be a misfit while he was here. “That's good to know. About the people being interesting, I mean. I'm a sucker for a good story, and I bet there's a fair few floating around here.”

[Rhea Hartman]

"It is." Aside from the peace and quiet, the surrounding mountains had beautiful hikes and even some decent rock climbing. "We get a lot of normal hikers too. You don't notice them as much though, they just stop by the grocery store and head out of town." It was the yuppies and their gentrified parents that grated on her nerves.

A change of expression wasn't unusual when someone found out a town had a high population of metas, but it was usually interest or suspicion, and Cecil's tone didn't quite fit. Rhea glanced at him again with a slightly raised eyebrow. She had the means to figure out if her new companion was a meta or not, since she could tell when a suppression field took. However, this was generally considered extremely rude at best, low-grade assault at worst. And on the slim chance he really was a meta, she doubted his mood would be improved by suddenly feeling like he was having a heart attack.

"Oh, you have no idea." Rhea laughed in exasperation and ran a hand through her sweaty hair. "They end up sounding like bad jokes. An empath, a probability manipulator, and a power augmenter walk into a bar..." She shook her head. "Augmenters are the worst. There was this one little punk who would sneak up on other kids, who of course can hardly control themselves in the best of times. Made an electrokinetic blow out half the power grid downtown."

[Cecil Wathen]

“Hikers, really?” Cecil's tone was quietly surprised, some of the cloud above him rising as he gradually became a little more absorbed in the conversation. “Don't you get, like, bears and coyotes and cougar's up in the hills here?” Whilst Cecil was hardly a local, he knew a bit about north American wildlife and the mountains around here seemed like they would be ideal hunting grounds for larger predators. The scariest things there were to worry about back home were the foxes and badgers.

Cecil listened with great interest as Rhea told the story about what had happened in the town, managing a weary chuckle and rolling his eyes slightly. “That's ridiculous, one little brat causing all that. I feel sorry for the poor electrokinetic; having a power like that must be tough at the best of times, never mind when getting spooked into shutting down half the city.”

It was peaceful, watching the sleepy little town starting to stir as they walked, and for a moment a little of the weight lifted off Cecil's shoulders. It was still there, crushing him so brutally that every step was an effort, but the daggers were not sinking quite so deep as they had been when he'd been sat alone on the bench. “The worst I remember, from when I was a kid, was one of the girls in class sneezing and accidentally turning into an alligator. Oh God, the panic was insane. You don't know terror until you've seen a kid with super-strength literally leave a person-shaped hole in the wall.”

[Rhea Hartman]

Rhea threw back her head in a burst of laughter. “You really are from Wales!” she chuckled. She gave the Welshman a light tap on the shoulder with her knuckles. “Even out hiking you're more likely to be murdered than attacked by a bear or cougar, and you can beat off a coyote with a frying pan.” She shook her head. “Nah, if you see one, which you probably won't, just stay quiet and watch, and it'll go on its way."

She pointed to a ridge of hills to the east of the little cluster of buildings that made up downtown Pilot Ridge. "If you like to hike, even if you're just passing through I'd say it's worth a trip out of town. There's a lot of trails, but my favorite one in the winter is Kitchner peak." She made a zig-zag with her fighter up the face of a low range of mountains. "It's got a steep front face, and starting about November there's almost always a low could cover. For the first part of it you're going up some brutal switchbacks, and between the trees, snow and fog you can barely see ten feet. Just white all around." She smiled and exhaled another cloud of smoke. "Then you round a crest and you get the whole valley, cliffs on one side and all the clouds and snow on the other." She mimed the route with her hands. "You take the side of the mountain around for a couple miles and then follow a stream back down. It's gorgeous. Good bit of work, too.”

As a suppressor working for the NYPD, Rhea had seen a lot more metas out of control than most people, and nine times out of ten she couldn't say she had much sympathy for them. Wrestling down a telekinetic who had been trying to lacerate your fellow police officers with a set of flying cutlery tended to do that to a person. It was one of the reasons she had moved to Pilot Ridge—Hammel was where she had learned how important it was for her take responsibility for her powers, and she wanted to help pass the lesson down other young metas however she could. “With a little more training she ended up just fine.” She grinned. “And the little punk finally figured out that augmenting the powers of people you've pissed off isn't always the best idea.”

It was Rhea's turn to have Cecil catch her attention. She laughed at the image, but her eyes were quizzical and a bit calculating. “A whole wall? Wow! Hey, you didn't go to Kocher, did you?” she asked with a tilt of her chin. Unless he was a meta, she knew he wouldn't even know the name of the place.

[Cecil Wathen]

Cecil managed a quiet chuckle at Rhea's laughter and exclamation, the sound seeming slightly alien even to his ears when overlaying the crushing pain that still weighed him down. The corner of his lips curled into a faint smile as she spoke about the animals in the region, and he gave an understanding nod of his head. “That's good to know. The scariest things back home are the badgers and foxes, but you're more likely to get attacked by a street cat than either of them.” He gave a quiet breath of a laugh. “Then again, the packs of youths that gather on the street corners at night count as wildlife, I'd think.” Cecil leaned over slightly as they walked, giving the puppy a little fuss behind her ears. “Mephit'd save me anyway. I'd hope.”

Listening to Rhea speaking about the hike up the mountains out of town, Cecil gave a smile that was the closest thing to real that had crossed his lips since before yesterday evening. “It sounds perfect. It kind of reminds me of Snowdon, except bigger, obviously.” Everything seemed to be bigger in America, even the landscape. A pang of homesickness hit him hard, but it was funnelling into a sudden burning desire to get out and explore. He had been cooped up in London and New York for far too long; it would do him the world of good to go adverturing through the mountains, even if it was only for a day or two before he had to go back to... attempt to deal with things. “I'm keen to get up there, though. If you have time, do you think you could maybe draw up a quick map for me?”

The swapped stories about the hyper-powered kids had brought Cecil along on a little nostalgia trip, and he found that the deeper into the conversation he let himself fall, the more it seemed to be cushioning him. “I'm glad it worked out okay for them. Too many kids go off the rails; it's nice when they manage to turn it around.” As Rhea asked the question about which school he went to, Cecil was a little hesitant to answer for a moment. Not because he was embarrassed or nervous, but just because it wasn't really something he was used to talking about in normal conversation. “Yeah, I did. Unwillingly at first, I admit. Me and my parents were sort of less than keen on the idea.” Since she seemed to have a decent knowledge about metas, it was of course natural to follow-up the question with his own. “Did you go to the one over here? Hamm... Something? Hammall?”