Playing With Fire (Sam Rixon)

[Vincent Meian]

Given the choice, this would not have been Vincent's first pick for a first training scenario.

He would have much rather been outdoors, however his student's powers (and, by proxy, his side-effects) made training in cold weather noticeably more difficult. Fire manipulators tended to do rather poorly when they themselves were cold, and while it would likely be something for them to work on later, the Japanese man didn't want his student sick after a single day of training.

So, in the training rooms it was.

Given that Vincent was most often fifteen minutes early to every training session he scheduled, he'd had plenty of time to ensure that he'd set everything up properly; a fire extinguisher, a bucket of water and a bucket of sand in case of a wayward blaze; a blanket, in case the boy lost body heat rapidly or lit himself on fire; a small box with firestarter inside, as well as a few candles for practicing purposes; and a number of water bottles and small snacks in case there was a needed glucose boost. He was fairly certain he had everything he wanted, and that there was enough preparation even if they didn't get to fire control today, so the trainer stepped back from the supplies and checked the time on the wall clock.

The session should start in a bit less than five minutes. He had time.

Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly to calm his nerves, the tall Japanese man walked to the training room's window and opened it to let in a cool breeze while he waited. The room wasn't stifling, but he did feel better with the slightly damp March air against his face. Leaning against the windowsill, his golden colored eyes scanned the field outside as Vincent thought over his lesson plan for the day and recalled the advice Sean had given him earlier in the week.

Hopefully, things would end well today; all he had to do was keep his temper and let things flow naturally. Control came with time, and the pair of them had plenty of it.

[Samuel Rixon]

Changing trainers was all too familiar with Sam. Either his trainer moved on to another job or school, or they got sick and tired of his shenanigans and fobbed him off on someone new. Usually it was just a game, and a chance to annoy someone else.

This time he’d been a little reluctant on the change. He’d liked Sabine, when she wasn’t being a complete bitch. He’d made some sort of progress with her, however minimal it was, and now he was changing. He didn’t even know who this ‘Vincent Meen’ was, but if he was anything like his best friend (also Vincent), maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Vincent Verax as a trainer is a terrifying thought.

As a rule, Sam was usually late to his classes. It didn’t seem to matter when he got up, or how organized he tried to be. He was unfailingly late. Today was no different, and he couldn’t even blame it on his math teacher keeping him behind to discuss his behavior, or his grades. He was just... well, Sam. Unorganized, and unmotivated.

As such, he slunk into the room a solid five minutes after he should have and dropped his ‘bitching’ shark bag with a bang on one of the desks in the room. “I’m here!” Looking a mess as usual, not to mention mature, he eyed up his new trainer. Definitely not as cool as his best friend, but hey, he’d take it. “Can we make s’mores? I can make the campfire!” Yes, he was hungry, and s’mores sounded like a great idea to practice with. If only his new trainer agreed with his logic, and if he was awesome in any kind of way, he would.

Well, he could hope, right?

[Vincent Meian]

Despite the fact that Sam was late, the trainer hadn't been terribly surprised, nor was he upset. It had been noted that the boy would be late wherever possible, regardless of how hard he seemed to try, so there was little point in being upset with him. Still, the bang from the other side of the room had made the trainer stiffen noticeably before he turned around and greeted his new student with a nod.

Well, at least he had energy.

Closing the window to a crack, the tall man moved away from it and over to the desk with the small stack of food. He had a couple of simple candy bars (for the hard sugar boost), but also a box of fruit-filled hum bao for something a little heavier and more filling. "If you are hungry, you may help yourself," he stated, opening the box and motioning to the snacks inside. "However, please refrain from eating them all - you may need something to eat after the lesson."

He also didn't know what "s'mores" were, but he was sure he could look it up somewhere. Additionally, the campfire suggestion wasn't a bad idea - they could do that another time, once Vincent was sure that Sam wouldn't hurt himself doing it.

For now, it was best to start small.

"We will try a campfire another time," he reasoned, giving the teen a chance to eat if he needed. "For today, I will just assess where you lie in terms of control of your abilities. Whenever you are ready, we may begin."

[Samuel Rixon]

Sam had energy, yes. That much was very much true. He seemed to have two modes of operation. Tired and lazy, or hyper and energetic. Vincent was lucky that their first meeting was not on a lazy day. He was also lucky that the teenager had finally kicked his pot habit. Showing up high to training sessions had never gone well, if history was anything to go by.

Better yet, Vincent hadn’t yelled at him for being late. That was a first. He hadn’t even had to drag out pitiful, flimsy excuses as to why he’d shown up late. Vincent was freaking awesome.

“Sweeeeeeet!” Sam practically howled the word as he bounded over to the desk. He had no idea what was in the container, but he was more or less a human garbage disposal. As long as it wasn’t fish, he would try just about anything once. So, into the container he went and retrieved one of the fruit things. “Ohhh my freakin’ GOD, dude. These are wicked good.” So much so that he might have inhaled the rest, were it not for the warning.

Vin always got to eat in class. Something about cell regeneration and needing food for it. Well. Now Sam’s trainer did the same thing, and even provided the food. Amazing food. He had something to brag to his best friend about later, now.

After swiping his hands against his jeans to brush off crumbs, Sam beamed at his trainer. “Awww, shit, dude. No one told you?” He wiggled his fingers. “My control sucks ass.” Yes, that was a legitimate measurement, in his mind. “But I can totally show you!” He had no problems showing off his power, controlled or not. “What’d you want me to burn?” He was so used to this, he knew the drill.

[Vincent Meian]

"I am glad that you enjoy them," the trainer replied, a slight smirk of amusement touching his face. He really hadn't realized that the boy would be so eager - if control was the only issue, Sam would be fine. Training would be challenging, of course, but there should be no problems with the progression of such. "I will be sure to make them more frequently."

'Sucking ass' was not a legitimate measurement of control in the Japanese man's mind, as it really didn't get the point across. Given the fact that anecdotes and slang were something that he was still working on understanding, and the fact that few of his students swore in front of him (despite vulgarities being of entirely different structures in English and Japanese), the inherent foulness of the phrase escaped him, even if the general concept was predominantly understood. Still, it was better to see regardless.

Walking over to his supplies, Vincent lifted up a very light bag and rummaged around for a moment before plucking out an object and tossing it to the teen. It was a pinecone, and one about the size of a softball. "That is your assignment," he explained, placing the bag back under a desk before looking back to Sam. "If you can, attempt to hold it while it burns without burning yourself."

Something that the trainer didn't add was that pinecones tended to burn quickly, even without starter or lighter fluid. If the blaze got out of hand, it would only last for a few moments. There were other surprises as well, but those would be handled when they came to them. For now, this was all the boy had to do; light the kindling on fire, and they would go from there.

[Samuel Rixon]

“They’re amaaazing, dude. Your wife make ‘em?” Yes, Sam was stuck in the dark ages where women cooked and men did... well, manly things that did not involve cooking or baking. He was useless in the kitchen himself, and was usually happiest when Spencer cooked at her apartment. Sure, he’d tried to learn, but he’d quickly lost interest. Though he quickly did a double take when Vincent continued. “Duuuude. You made ‘em? That is...” Sweet? Lame? He couldn’t decide. So he just crammed another one in his mouth before speaking anymore. “Awesome,” he finally decided after he swallowed.

In Sam’s mind, ‘sucking ass’ was definitely a legitimate measurement of his abilities. His best friend said it to him often enough, so it had to be true to some degree, right? (That was going with the theory that Vincent was right... well, ever.) Oh well. His trainer would learn soon enough.

Sam caught the little pinecone and looked it over. He was used to lighting training blocks, or things outside. Or joints, when he still smoked. But this was new. Granted, it could also be fun. He could lob flaming pinecones at Vincent all summer long. Surely that was best friend love, right? “... That’s it?” Controlling burns to his skin was something he’d been able to do for a while now, simply because he’d needed to. This might be something he was good at.

“Okay! WATCH THIS.” Sam grinned as he cupped the pinecone between his palms and focused. For a moment all the thing did was weakly smoke. When it did ignite, Sam promptly looked pleased with himself. He grinned as it flamed into oblivion.

He just hadn’t banked on the fast burn time. The pyro jumped when he felt the scorch of the heat on his hands and hissed, dropping the blackened, hot thing on the floor. So much for showing off for his trainer.

[Vincent Meian]

Being rather used to people mistaking his mastery of the culinary arts for his wife's was something that the trainer had grown used to. Many people didn't know that Nakia was abysmal in the kitchen, so he often glossed over that when making corrections about the source of whatever dish the Japanese man brought for them to try. With a nod of his head in thanks, he replied, "I am glad that you approve."

If any sarcasm was there, it was very subtle and very deadpan - the thanks was well-intended regardless.

Vincent nodded in confirmation. "Yes, that is all," he replied. This would actually be a bit more exciting than Sam thought it would be, considering the fact that pinecones not only burned quickly but had a tendency to pop sparks if pockets of air or sap were hit with open flame. However, the teen would see that soon enough, he was sure. The trainer watched closely as the object began to smoke in his student's hands, then lit abruptly. Then, of course, was promptly dropped to the floor as a scorched core and cinders.

Honestly, Vincent was mildly impressed - Sam had enough focus to put all of his attention on one object and not light an unintended target on fire. Given the fact that he hadn't known about the burn time, the reaction was expected, and the trainer nodded appreciatively. "Your focus is good," he replied, reaching down and picking up another pinecone from the bag. "Now that you know what to expect, try again - do not burn yourself."

Tossing the object to the boy, Vincent crossed his arms over his chest and waited again. There was a notation in the files (as well as from Sean) that his new student was notoriously lazy and disliked hard work. Burning pinecones was easy and went by relatively quickly, however it could be tediously slow if they went one at a time like this. He'd watch and wait, and see how long it took before Sam got fed up with this game.

[Samuel Rixon]

Approve? Sam liked food in general (really, it was a miracle he wasn’t in the running for the Guinness World Record for biggest waist – curse teenage metabolism), but these were something else. He really hoped he could figure out an excuse to inhale more of them. After practicing, apparently. And now he was sugared up, and had some sort of motivation to work. He was so ready.

Sam had actually gotten quite good under his last trainer’s instruction at focusing. It was rare he lit unintended objects on fire now, but he still had issued controlling flames he started that grew, and he still couldn’t extinguish flames bigger than, say, a lighter’s fire. It had been a great trick when he’d still smoked. That was something he was still missing, but at least his withdrawal symptoms had slackened somewhat. It had been much, much harder than he’d ever thought, but Dr. Neville’s coping techniques, lame as they were, really had helped. He still had cravings, but they weren’t as strong or close together anymore. Normally when he was stressed out. Or bored.

He didn’t think his finer control had anything to do with quitting. Nope. Not at all.

The pyro caught the pinecone and looked it over, giving it a stern stare. “I can totally do this. You just watch me!” He leered harder at offending pinecone, jamming his finger against the scales. “Listen here, you. You’re not gonna burn me, got it bitch?” Yes, he just called the pinecone names. With that settled, he focused again, feeling the familiar warm surge throughout his body. Sadly, he seemed to have forgotten about the burn time again. No sooner had it ignited that he yelped and dropped it again. He shook his hands, rubbing them on his jeans in the hopes that it would alleviate the feeling of sticking his hands on a hot stove. Now it was a personal battle. The pinecones were working against him, and damn it, he was going to show them. “Gimme another one!” Well, at least he was working.

[Vincent Meian]

Once again, the usage of profanity somewhat passed over the trainer's head, though he was somewhat amused that Sam was going to the trouble of cursing at an inanimate object which was likely just going to make the boy more cocksure and do absolutely nothing to the pinecone. It seemed to help him focus, though, so the older man simply watched as once again the object lit on fire and once again was promptly dropped the moment the quickly smoldering ruin hit flesh.

Knowing that expression of outrage and determination all too well, Vincent lobbed another pinecone towards the boy with a slight smirk. This one was a little larger than the others, but nothing that would affect its burn rate very much. "May I make a suggestion?" he asked, nodding towards the oversized seed before it became so much charcoal on the floor. "Begin with the heat in your hands - then you will not need to rely on timing to protect them."

Some pyrokinetics could only use their abilities if they were touching something. Others could be burned by their own flames because they could only use them at a distance. Some could create an inferno by thought alone, and some needed proximity to a source to try. Part of this exercise was to determine what kind Sam was, and just how much frustration he could take before he finally broke down and gave up.

Not that Vincent was a mean teacher or anything. No, not at all.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sam would curse at anything. Best friends, inanimate objects, and sometimes even teachers. Granted, that was only a) when he was going through withdrawal at the start of his mission to quit smoking pot, or b) he was really, really frustrated. Usually in training. He’d cursed a blue streak at Sabine more than once. It would probably only be a matter of time before Vincent was subjected to the same thing.

“Uhhhh.... what?” Sam blinked, not understanding the instructions he was being given. “Nah. I can do it my way.” This was another reason he tended not to make progress in training. He was stubborn to a fault, and even when the suggestions given were probably helpful, he tended to ignore them until he was just about flat on the floor from exhaustion and frustration.

He concentrated again, heat flooding his body. He got the thing to light, and managed to hold it for a fraction of a second longer before a little sap pocket snapped and he lost his concentration. Again, he burned himself and growled, lobbing the pinecone to the floor rather than dropping it. “Sonofabitch,” he hissed, pressing his hands together. “This is stupid.” He hadn’t quite hit his wall, but he could see it now. Forgive him Vincent, burning his hands tends to make him a tad cranky. “Can’t we do something funner?” Because ‘funner’ is most certainly a word in Sam’s world.

[Vincent Meian]

The rejection of the advice only made the trainer nod his head in assent. If Sam wanted to try it his own way, that was his choice. Vincent's job was to advise him and show him other ways to do the same thing he had been doing. To mentally and (in some cases) physically exercise his students to show them how to control their abilities. Students refusing his advice were not uncommon, and as such it no longer annoyed him. He was a patient man; more often than not, they eventually asked if he had any ideas on how to do something.

They had time.

This most recent pinecone had actually popped a little, startling both boy and trainer (though the latter less noticeably, save for a slight increase in tension along the shoulders). Instead of being dropped into the pile of charcoal and ash, the cinder was thrown, causing a slight plume of dust and black remains skittering across the floor. There was no doubt that with his concentration in check, Sam could do this all day long. However, concentration was the key.

"Oh?" The trainer quirked an eyebrow, vaguely amused. That took less time than he expected. "I thought that you were going to show me that you could do this. Are you giving up already?"

[Samuel Rixon]

Sam had all the time in the world, it seemed. His lacklustre attitude towards all things academic had already kept him at Hammel until he was twenty years old. All he had to think about was that he was still less pathetic than Vincent. His best friend would probably be here until he was thirty, unless he finally found the secret to being expelled, or just flat out quit. Then Sam might actually have motivation (and less distractions) to achieve success. Granted, with his girlfriend having graduated at the end of last year, he’d just found more excuses to leave campus and hang out with her. Sometimes she still tutored him, but for the most part he was happier with make out sessions and movie marathons than studying.

Concentration was key for training. Sam knew that. He also knew he lacked it at the best of times. Sabine had been able to keep his focus mostly through barking orders at him until he actually listened and tried. He’d also lost control the most under her influence when he let his temper get the better of him. Especially recently. Quitting his habit had left him with some impressive mood swings.

He was mostly riled up now because the pinecones were mocking him, dammit. At his trainer’s question, he shot him a tiny glare. “I can do it! Just...” How did he explain this? “That one hurt,” he tried. “Can we do something else?” Really, the burns were something he was used to, and they didn’t hurt that badly. He just figured if he looked sad enough and played the sympathy card, maybe he could get out of the pointless exercise. And the mocking pinecones. Vincent, herein lies Sam’s biggest problem. Enjoy.

[Vincent Meian]

Vincent was unconcerned with the fact that Sam was here past his expected graduation date. He had known a number of students at Eisai that had graduated both early and late, and such things didn't phase him. His job was only to make sure that Sam did eventually graduate - according to his school records, he was doing much better in his studies. All that was left was for him to master his abilities well enough to not start uncontrolled fires all the time.

For now, he'd just be happy if the boy could focus for more than five minutes on a task. Hmm... maybe his exuberance and pride could be tested. Or fear - fear might work, too.

The slight whine almost made the trainer laugh. Almost. He was about halfway between scoffing at the boy's concern and laughing about the attempt at looking cute and pathetic, before he simply settled for a slight smirk. A glitter of amusement was in his eyes, and he shifted his footing into something more relaxed, his scarred arms crossed over his chest. "I think we may be able to arrange that," he conceded. "Perhaps you would feel more at home attempting to contain fireworks?"

The fact that he had some in his office was actually the scary part.

[Samuel Rixon]

If Sam graduated, it would be a sheer miracle. Though he'd settled down somewhat since he'd weaned down from smoking pot, his grades were still close to circling the drain at times, and though his control had improved, well... he still had random bursts of flame from time to time. Vincent would have his hands full if he expected to be a part of Sam's eventual graduation. If it ever happened.

Focus was a problem area all around. Sam got bored in class, he got bored during training. If he didn't 'get' something, his usual solution became to do little more than start to doodle and forget to pay attention. At least he had Spencer's help in math still. The rest of his classes, well... he just found them dull. Training included.

Well. Had found them dull. Fireworks? Hello attention.

"Fireworks?" Sam was all too familiar with fireworks. He and Vincent had shot off more than their fair share of them in the past few years. "Y' want me to light them? Because I can TOTALLY do that!" He had no idea what containing them meant, but if it meant turning the training room info the Fourth of July, well, he was totally down for that. "Beats the shit outta pinecones."

No, he was still not going to watch his mouth. Especially not now, when he was all excited.

[Vincent Meian]

The sudden interest made the trainer a little wary. That much excitement over a new exercise (one that was more difficult by far) usually meant that there was a lack of understanding on the principle and execution of the attempts. With Sam's immediate response, the confusion seemed likely, however Vincent could see another point to it. If Sam found pinecones worrisome, it would certainly expand his horizons to try something a little more... volatile.

"I will retrieve them, then," Vincent acquiesced, nodding slightly. "However, while I do so, you must continue to practice with these." Gesturing to the sack of tree seeds, the trainer looked back to the cocksure boy. "If you can show me that you can burn them without hurting yourself, I will bring something larger later in the year."

By later in the year, he meant summer. Vincent wasn't about to let Sam fire off Roman candles indoors. The sparklers and small fireworks would be more than enough of a challenge to contain without adding things that classified as mortars into the list. To be honest, he found the idea of Sam trying to contain a children's firework in his hands while it was actively trying to escape very amusing. Almost as amusing as the boy putting out fireworks before they could explode if they were aimed in his direction. Or close enough nearby to be potentially hazardous.

Not that he would do such a thing. Well, at least not inside the school.