This isn't gourmet... (open)

[Callum Bowen-Lund]

Unfortunately for Eloise, the clue she dropped about being able to read the blonde Canadian’s thoughts was lost on the boy. Like most teenaged boys, subtlety wasn’t exactly Callum’s strongest suit. (Being subtle and picking up on subtle hints, that is). “Hey, nobody said that you’re an older woman,” said the boy with a smile, wiping the side of his lips with a napkin when he felt that a piece of the potatoes missed its mark, “More like mature.” One of his dad’s girlfriends – Rowena was it? Or maybe it was Pauleen? – did tell him never call a woman ‘old’ to her face, lest you’re hoping for a quick and scornful rejection. While denoting the same thing, ‘mature’ suggests wisdom, poise and grace, three things that could never be bad when used as descriptors. “Well for one you seem to know a lot about the place, and despite being in Hammel for a few days you seem, well, already settled in. Half of the girls in here would kill to be, well, eyed by the men in here like you are right now.”

Because women were objects to be obtained and prizes to be won. Misogyny for the win.

Callum let out a small chuckle and shrugged his shoulders when she told him she’s sorry to hear his story. He didn’t really thought much about it, but hey, if it calmed her down and put him back in her good books, well, he’ll take it. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he said, his left hand giving a half-hearted wave as he picked up one of his last few ribs, “I mean it was hard at first of course, but I assure you I don’t have that angst TV usually suggests kids from broken homes have.” Oh how he hated that stereotype. One of the reasons why he hated telling people he came from one really. “Matthew’s great and Anthony and Julianna are the best step-siblings one could ever ask for.” And he wasn’t just saying that for show. He always told the two that he’s got their backs, and he knew they’ve got his, even though they weren’t the tiniest bit related by blood. “And Dad usually dates these A-list girls so whenever I’m around his place, I get exclusive access to places around New York, sometimes even abroad.” So really he’s got nothing to complain. “And since I live in Canada and Dad’s in the States, I get two Thanksgiving dinners. Ah-mazing.”

“Anthony always told me never to talk about heavy topics during the first date. So maybe we should move on to something lighter, like, I don’t know, do you do any sports?”

[Eloise Eaton]

Eloise stared at Cal for a good minute before she could even bring herself to say something. A huge part of Ella wanted to leap across the table and slap the kid across the face - but Eloise new better than to cause that much trouble over one kid's thoughts on her second day of school. So she took a few moments to compose herself. "Well I'm glad you've adapted to a broken family life but clearly you haven't adapted to having a dirt-bag father because you're just like him aren't you?" Eloise finally spoke up. Her words had bite but she still smoke calmly with a small smile.

She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and looked Cal straight in the eyes. "I'm sorry... but its going to really... really hard for you to get on my good side if you're going to insist I'm some sort of prize to be won..." Ella half smiled, and shrugged, sort of giving Cal the option to shut up (and stop thinking like such a douche). "You should probably break out your smartphone and google Telepathy at this point. Because you're clearly not all the bright."

Eloise sat back in her chair again, and took a long sip of her water. "On a lighter note I quite enjoy soccer..."

[Callum Bowen-Lund]

Just when Callum thought Eloise’s words couldn’t get much sharper, she then went on to say that his father was quite the dirtbag. To say that he was stunned would be an understatement. “Well that’s a little out of line,” he muttered, trying to compose himself. It’s one thing to tell a ‘yo momma’ joke out of jest or as an icebreaker, but that, well, he might be oblivious to most anything but he could’ve sworn he tasted contempt in those words. Add to the fact that he barely mentioned anything about his father (was that just a sentence or two even?) and the Canadian felt that he was looking at another drama bitch. Who was great at keeping her drama bitch-yness hidden by the way.

God knows he didn’t need another Isabella in his life.

(Isabella’s his most recent ex who got her older brother to hound him around and harass him relentlessly when he broke up with her. Didn’t help that he dated a guy, Keith, soon after too).

Despite finding her insistence on looking up what ‘telepathy’ meant entailed, since he really wasn’t in a good place to complain right now, the blonde complied. A quick Google search told him what telepathy was, and well, he’d be damned. “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” he groaned, facepalming himself hard and shaking his head, not even trying to hide the embarrassment he felt. “Would that mean that you – ever since we – good lord I was – fuck. Whoever said moving to a new place would be a great way to reinvent yourself clearly did not take note of mind-readers like you.”

Maybe that should be the first thing he should be asking people around these parts. Heck, did he even know what his roommates powers were? “I feel like a naïve little kid now. And I hate it.”

Thankfully she obliged with talking about something lighter, else the Canadian wouldn’t have much choice but to excuse himself from the table. Heck, that would’ve been the wiser choice most probably, but the boy was born stubborn, and he just couldn’t let one little hiccup get him down.

In fact, he felt challenged even. He’ll come out on top of this little…whatever is this is he’s gotten himself in with Eloise, if it’s the last thing he does.

“Funny how you call it soccer; don’t you European types usually call it football?” He didn’t mind either way, considering how Canada’s a weird mix of Europe and the US in his mind. “It’s cute, but not exactly my kind of sport. It’s too proper. Hockey all the way.” There’s just something about being able to release that competitive drive by bashing your opponent against the wall that gets Callum going. Turns him on even.

Shit did I just think about that?

[Eloise Eaton]

"Listen I'm not going to stop you from... reinventing yourself or whatever. But I highly... highly[/] suggest you reinvent yourself into something less disgustingly sexist. Otherwise that chainsaw is all the action you'll get," Eloise offered. She shrugged as if to say 'that's just the way it is. deal with it'. "I can turn it off if I want to. But with guys like you I'm not so sure I want to. And I know other telepaths still can't control it. All I'm saying is sometimes you need to watch what you think just as much as you watch what you say."

Eloise sighed, and returned to the conversation about sports. At least it was a topic she didn't think could go horribly wrong. "I lived in the states until I was 6," Eloise explained. "So I'm used to calling it soccer here. Football there." She took a sip of her water, still nursing the headache she had from being in such a public area, but not wanting to seem even more agitated than she was. That wasn't lady like. "Hockey is alright," Eloise admitted. "I saw a lot of it in Finland. But... I don't think it necessarily... turns me on,"Ella whispered the last part, making fun of the thought Cal was nearly immediately embarrassed about. He was taking this conversation as some sort of challenge. And he wanted to win. Usually Ella wouldn't comment on such an awkwardly embarrassing thought, just pass judgement in her own head. But since Cal insisted that this was some sort of war-of-the-words, Ella took advantage of the opportunity and did so with a little smirk and a twinkle in her eyes.

[Callum Bowen-Lund]

“No duh,” Callum said with a huff of resignation. As much as he’d like to call Eloise out for being, well, so upfront that it could rub on people off as offensive (and for a moment, Callum did find it offensive – that little explanation cleared the air out, he insisted, as in his mind it washed the fault off either of them), she did have a point. And at least she’d let him know about it earlier than later. (A little bit earlier would’ve helped, so he wouldn’t have committed the numerous faux pas he’d done, but hey, you can’t win everything right?). “High school coupled with puberty’s already hard enough as is. Then as muta-metas, we have to deal with whatever weird thing we’re ‘blessed’ with. And now you have to watch your thoughts ‘round certain people too?” That question was more rhetorical than anything really; Callum’s one of those people that, when he’s about to reach what he thinks would be a world-shattering conclusion, he’d need to say it out loud and possibly bounce it off someone. “Guess we’re such a special lot that we just couldn’t catch a break could we?”

Finishing the last of his sides, he looked up and saw the slight sign of pain in Eloise’s face. While he just went through the article on telepathy quickly, he did see ‘headaches’ somewhere in there and figured it was one of the side effects. “You ok? I’m crossing my fingers that it’s the food and not your powers, or are headaches really part of the whole meta-human telepathic package?” He added a little chuckle in the end, hoping to make it a little less, well, intrusive. “I saw it in the article but I figured, since it would most probably have been written by a – do we have a PC term for it? Baseline humans? Non-metas? Normalfolk? But yeah you get what I’m saying – I figured it’s not exactly 100% accurate.” He himself hadn’t experienced any negative side effects and he hoped to keep it that way. Then again, he hasn’t really actively used his – or had any realization that he was passively using it – so what would he know.

“Haha. Funny.” At least they’re back to semi-playful banter. He liked it better this way. Though since he still had to keep his thoughts in check, it wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place he’d want to be in. “It’s just that all that testosterone that suddenly gets pumped into your system during the game. Makes you so competitive and primal. It’s amazing.” Sex with Isabella right after one of their games was still the best he’s ever had. (Shit. Not again). “Maybe you just haven’t done any sports to turn you on. And if it’s not that, then what does turn you on?” he added, uneasy smile on his face, hoping for dear life that his passing thought about Isabella would just be forgotten.

[/justify]

[Eloise Eaton]

"No you're not going to catch a break around here," Eloise confirmed. "You've got your telepaths, your dream walkers, your truth detection, vocal mimics.... pheromone manipulators like yourself. And basically 100% of the new students have absolutely NO control over their power. I'm surprised that you haven't managed to really mess with my emotions. As far as I can tell." She didn't know exactly what kind of manipulator he was. He probably didn't know either. He probably had no clue exactly what his power did to people.

"I don't think I've lived a day of my teenage life without a headache," Ella explained. "Even though I can ... turn off my power per say... around this many people it's extremely difficult and takes so much energy, that I'd get a headache from the attempt anyway. It's kind of sad how used to them I've become." Ella shrugged, and ran her fingers through her hair to push it back out of her face. "You learn to live with the side effects."

She took a short breath, and willed the pain to the back of her mind as Cal went on about the testosterone increase he apparently received while playing hockey. She understood what he meant, but wasn't sure that she could relate to the feeling. He had mentioned Isabella in his head, but almost immediately regretted it. He didn't want Ella to talk about it, and as tempted as she was to bring it up, Eloise decided that she had used so much of her bitchiness in the past 10 minutes that it could probably use a break. "I ski," Eloise offered. It was probably the closest to the feeling that Cam was describing. "But I don't think a whole lot turns me on. There's too much in life that turns me off really," El explained. She'd much rather spend time alone in complete silence than going out and finding the sexual drive that most teenagers experienced.