Glaring is Caring [Jesse]

[Clement Evans]

It had been two and a half weeks since the fight. Clement was still calling it a fight, too, even though it had been more of a beating. He'd gotten his hits in, and the other guy didn't look so great, but as fights went Clement had clearly come out the loser this time.

It made him grumpy.

Sure, this time the kid he'd fought had been older and a lot bigger (and on fire), but the school fights Clement had been in before had been a lot more even in terms of damage done. This one had been more like what happened to him at home, and paradigm shift was hard to straighten out. School had been the place where fights could be won. Now it wasn't. Clement didn't feel less safe, but he did feel unsettled. There was no separation of school and home anymore. How was he supposed to figure out how to protect himself if everything was combined?

Under his t-shirt, pads of gauze were still taped loosely to his chest over the most serious of the burns. Mostly for protection and to keep the chafing down. The skin was shiny and pink and tight, and had been peeling around the edges in itchy curls. The little plastic tent that had held his broken nose had come off a few days ago, but a strip of gauze was still taped over the area to cover the new skin that had finally formed. Clement's face and chest were still tender, and if he took too sharp a breath or made certain expressions his ribs or healing cheekbone would be assholes about it.

Sitting on a bench outside the dorms, Clement felt small. The school was too big, there were too many kids, too many teachers. If he hadn't needed medical attention, hadn't gotten into that fight, it would be easy to be overlooked. There were a lot of kids at the school like he was, with no parents or family, and as Xavier had proven, kids who were a lot more trouble than he'd ever been. Clement had no need to stand out, never had, but thought he could feel himself becoming... lost. Like he didn't matter. Maybe he'd never mattered. Maybe that had been the problem the whole time.

He didn't know. Clement found himself muttering in Korean more often than not these days, something he'd never done before. He didn't talk to himself, not out loud. But it felt good to hear Korean again, even if it was just himself.

So when he felt something pulling on his shoelaces, he looked down and murmured, "Aigo, jinjja? Tokki?*"

The black rabbit was probably someone's pet, but... where had it come from? His ribs wouldn't let him lean over to touch it, but he bent over as far as he could to allow himself a better look, squinting to focus. "Annyoung, tokki.*"

*aigo, jinjja? tokki? - oh my god, really? a rabbit?
*annyoung, tokki - hi, rabbit

[Jesse Adams]

It had been a long, long time since Jesse had scrapped with anyone. At least on purpose. The last time he’d instigated it had been back at the compound, trying to kick Jacob Lawrence’s high and mighty ass. It had ended with a dislocated shoulder, and a sleeper hold that had seem him into MSAD’s doctor’s office. The memory alone still made him shudder for numerous reasons. Since then, he hadn’t been the instigator again. Verax had kicked the crap out of him when he’d first come back to Pilot Ridge, but he hadn’t fought back. At the time, he’d deserved it. He probably still did, too. That and more. He had a sin or two to repent for. If being on the receiving end of a few key hits would help, he’d take it.

The only scars he bore now were his old gunshot wound, still an odd mess of healed skin. Once it had been to that point, he hadn’t allowed the former doctor he’d lived with to fix it further. He also had a few from his time at home, all carefully placed to be covered by clothing. Not that it mattered. Jesse had thought of cover stories for each and every one a long time ago. It was easier to wield them than think of excuses on the spot. Stuttering and grasping for straws didn’t only make you look weak, but made you look like a liar, too.

He was trying to relax after a particularly long session with Dr. Neville. Their meetings always left him slightly rattled, mostly due to having to face up to things he’d long since buried. He was still point blank refusing to talk about his relationship with Gabriel Underwood, and he was well aware that he was going to continue to attend sessions until he did. He just wasn’t ready. He’d spent so long dealing with the grief that had come with his mentor’s death that he didn’t know what it was to not carry it around with him. If he let go, he had a fear of losing him forever. It was better to just carry it with him, damn the consequences.

He’d taken his rabbit outside for a bit of fresh air, confidence that he could run faster than the little animal if he felt like making a break for it. It wasn’t wearing a harness because that was stupid. He wasn’t going to lay in the grass holding the end of a tiny leash, no. Instead, he was just keeping an eye on it as the thing hopped around and nibbled grass and dandelions.

All it took was one moment of closing his eyes and not paying attention. One second the rabbit was there, the next it was taking off across the yard. Jesse looked at the disappearing black tail and hissed a curse under his breath before getting to his feet and chasing it.

... Okay. He’d stopped near a kid. A kid looking a little rough, but a kid. ... Was he eating his shoelaces? He frowned and leaned forward, scooping the rabbit into his arms. “Don’t run away, dumbass,” he grumbled, running his hands over the rabbit’s ears. Once he was assured that his pet was safe, he gave the kid a look. “And you. Don’t let him eat your laces. God knows where they’ve been.” If his new pet got sick because of him, there would be hell to pay.

[Clement Evans]

Under the care of curiously pale doctor, Clement had not only not lost weight (easy to do with the combination of his meta abilities and burns), but had gained a few pounds. Not enough to make a difference in his appearance, but enough that his power had spare energy to draw on for once. The second his peripheral vision caught a tall blond figure running toward him -

"Jolla!*" Armor to his elbows. And dammit, now his ribs hurt too from sucking in breath so fast. There was no way to hide his hands, and Clement didn't know if he'd need the protection. So he just held them still on his lap and pretended nothing had happened. The kid got close enough that he could tell it wasn't Xavier O'Conner before he spoke, and some of the tension left Clement's shoulders. He caught some of those same flecks of light coming off the bigger kid that had gotten him into so much trouble on his first day.

“And you. Don’t let him eat your laces. God knows where they’ve been.”

What was it with him and angry blonds? Clement found that he was too tired to be angry back. He exhaled slowly as the armor vanished. He squinted up at the kid, who was holding the rabbit now. "To-"

Dammit. English for the waegukin. It took Clement a moment to readjust his brain to the right words and syntax. His brow wrinkled a little but he said, matter-of-factly and in the correct language this time, "Your rabbit was eating my laces. How is that my fault?"

He looked down at his shoes, but he couldn't tell if they'd been damaged. It was doubtful. The rabbit hadn't been pulling on them that long. "And they're new."

The shoes had been the single clothing item between he and Xavier that had not gone up in flames, because they hadn't been on Clement's feet at the time. The plain sneakers hadn't been especially pricey, but they still had cost more than anything Clement had ever worn and he'd been relieved and glad that they hadn't been damaged. Minho's hand-me-downs still fit, but there was something about wearing new clothes that made Clement feel... he didn't have a name for it. Better, maybe. It was one less thing to be embarrassed about.

Which was great, because he was feeling mildly embarrassed now and had no idea why. How was he supposed to have made the rabbit stop chewing his shoelaces? Why was there even a rabbit outside? And why did the big kid even care what his rabbit ate if he called it a dumbass and couldn't even keep track of it? Clement couldn't see the kid's expression very well, but he'd felt glares before and knew one was being leveled at him. He guessed this was the sort of situation that needed an apology, but he'd be damned if he gave one. Still, the other kid was bigger than he was. How did he get into this shit? God, he hated Vermont.

"I... kind of have broken ribs," he said reluctantly, looking at the ground in front of him. "I... c-couldn't bend over and I w-wasn't gonna l-like... kick it."

Dammit again. Clement scraped his tongue against his teeth, as if he could rub the stutter out. He greatly looked forward to the day life was even marginally fair.


*jolla - fucking. This isn't how the word is meant to be used, but it's what Clement would've said in English and how he often uses it.
*waegukin - foreigner, aka a non-Korean. In this case it means someone who doesn't speak Korean.

[Jesse Adams]

O...kay. Kid now had funny looking arms. Well, this was Hammel. Stranger things happened. Still, Jesse was vaguely ticked off. Mostly at himself for letting Tyrone run away, but he was fine to deflect that elsewhere. The kid made a nice target. Yes, he was trying to change for the better, but dammit, it was hard and he needed to figure out some kind of outlet beyond chain smoking.

“It’s your fault because you let him,” he growled back, like it was painfully obvious to everyone else. Now he was closer and had Ty back, he actually looked at the kid. Beyond the odd appearance to his arms, he was... shit, the kid was skinny. Probably one of those metabolism freaks that couldn’t keep weight on. He looked a little rough, sure, but didn’t they all from time to time? Maybe he was a scrapper. That could explain it.

Regardless. He didn’t feel bad for him. Not really.

“I don’t care if they’re new or eighty years old.” Yes, he was still in a bad mood. That wasn’t going anywhere quickly.

He’d never been in a position like Clement’s. His father had had the means to provide the family with more than enough of everything, even if it was just for show. He’d never wanted for anything growing up. Designer clothes, the latest electronics, they’d had everything. It had felt hollow, sure, but it had all been there. Even at Hammel, he’d had a loaded credit card ready to go whenever he needed it. And then there had been Gabriel, who had given him everything again. His car, money, wisdom. All in all, at eighteen Jesse really wasn’t too bad off. Even if Dr. Neville had said not to spend anything Gabriel had given him. Joke was on the old man. He planned to use that money.

Jesse was ready to dig into the kid again when he spoke up. For a moment, he backed off, trying to separate his irritation from... what? Pity? Ugh. He sighed and leaned back on one foot. “What’d you do that was dumb enough to break ribs, kid?” He actually knew what that felt like, though he’d never give the real reason why. His cover had been that his brother had been responsible while roughhousing. Everyone had believed it. Even his own mother.

After a moment of debate, he flopped down on the bench and sat Ty on the space between them. “If you wanted to touch him, do it now, or forever hold your peace. ...Or whatever.” With that, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, as well as his lighter and toyed with them, watching the kid from the corner of his eye.

And the rabbit. So help him if Ty made another break for it.

[Clement Evans]

The big kid didn't mention Clement's arms, and that was a relief. Not that Clement didn't think he didn't see, but he didn't say anything.

“It’s your fault because you let him.”

This close, Clement could see the kid's sour expression even though there was a ton of hair in his face. He'd never understood that, the whole bangs covering everything. Ajima had given him a trim every time his own brown mess covered more than half his ears or fell more than an inch below his eyebrows. Clement squinted back at him.

“I don’t care if they’re new or eighty years old.”

Newer ones would have fewer germs, but Clement didn't say anything. There wasn't going to be any arguing with this kid, he could tell. Clement just looked down at his shoes. The laces weren't even crinkled, just moved a little. Maybe a little rabbit spit-y. Later he would find little black hairs.

The admittance about his ribs seemed to give the other kid pause. Maybe to change his angle of attack. Clement didn't have enough energy to get up and leave, and besides, where would he go? Back to the infirmary. Or possibly the library. He had essays.

“What’d you do that was dumb enough to break ribs, kid?”

Well, that was a loaded question. Shifting uneasily on the bench, which was suddenly sort of hard and uncomfortable, he said, "Drank the wrong beer."

When the tall blond moved again, Clement thought he was leaving. So he was surprised when the guy sat down and placed the rabbit right next to him. . “If you wanted to touch him, do it now, or forever hold your peace. ...Or whatever.”

The way it was phrased made Clement think the kid thought he was going to do something pervy, so he kept his hands to himself. But then the rabbit started to nose his jeans, and Clement did not want the blond to start ragging on him again. Moving very slowly so he didn't startle the bunny and because it hurt a little, Clement turned to face the little animal with one leg folded on the bench seat, foot turned away to keep tempting laces out of reach. He held out a careful hand for the rabbit to sniff as an alternate to his pants, and when it began to nuzzle, he gently, gently used a finger to brush its cheeks.

Without looking up, he said, "What's its name?"

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse knew all too well what wayward powers did, and talking about them was even less fun. Though his own powers were less obvious about it, it was only his dream manipulation that tended to go a little haywire. It sometimes resulted in night terrors that likely woke his roommates now that he was back in the dorms. He still had to find a way to control that, but training it was difficult.

The kid looked you, too. He was probably new, or at least a recent addition to the place. New with powers yet uncontrolled. It wasn’t like that was rare, but coupled with the kid’s appearance and admission about the broken ribs? That was a little less common. Somewhere deep down he felt something akin to what he tended to feel around his little sister, but he quickly squashed it. He wasn’t here to make friends or play happy family. He was here to train, go to class, graduate, and get the hell out. He couldn’t afford distractions, even if he kept being told he needed to make an effort to make friends.

One eyebrow arched up at the answer he was given. “Kid, you’re too fucking young for beer.” Not that he was one to talk. He actually surprised himself by saying it. What did he care if the kid got shitfaced on his own time? Didn’t he do just that when he was... okay, not at young as the kid looked, but still. This protective urge needed to slither off and die in a dark hole, because Jesse was getting tired of it already. He was protective of his little sister, and that was it. Seriously.

All the same, if he wanted to touch the damn rabbit, he’d let him. He took careful measures to make sure he was nowhere near being close to touching the kid, and Ty worked as a kind of barrier. Having a buffer helped in dealing with interactions, and as long as the kid wasn’t going to hurt his pet, he would let him sit there with Ty. The little rabbit actually seemed to enjoy the new person, snuffling at his leg and leaning into the attention he got.

Jesse, on the other hand, was trying to ignore the boy, though he did keep an eye on his rabbit. The question made him sigh and tilt his head back. “Tyrone,” he muttered. “Don’t bitch about it either. A friend named him.” His only friend, if he was honest. And he hadn’t been about to tell his only, pregnant, hormonal former operative friend no.

[Clement Evans]

Even though this kid wasn't on fire, he was still grumpy and gave off the kind of vibes that had Clement watching where the blond's hands were. Just in case. Something about him said he was older, or at least older than Clement was. Clement was living proof that height was not a good indicator of age. Maybe it was his voice, or the way he didn't feel the need to impress. Either way, older meant he'd been around, and the attitude meant he probably wouldn't sugarcoat any opinions he had of the staff.

So it was unexpected to hear what he did. “Kid, you’re too fucking young for beer.”

Clement sighed. "I know."

It wasn't said as lip service or with any sarcasm, but with the gravity of someone who honestly understood the ramifications of alcohol. Clement had spent a long time in the hospital and then the infirmary wondering just what in hell had made him drink the beer in the first place. He'd hated what it had done to his father, and it was directly linked to why he was in Vermont. Beer had played a part in every bad experience he'd had outside of school, and now the worst one he'd had within one. That said, it just confused him further when he remembered how he'd felt when he'd seen the cans dangling on their six pack rings. Relief.

It made no sense.

"I don't know why I did it," he muttered, mostly to himself. It had been stupid, the most consciously stupid thing he'd done in awhile. Fucking Vermont.

Stupid or not, the little rabbit didn't care and lifted its head to let Clement's finger rub its chin. Clement hesitated, as that was getting pretty close to where those big teeth were, but then he realized the only way to get bitten would be for the thing to bite through its own jaw.

“Tyrone. Don’t bitch about it either. A friend named him.”

Clement frowned again as he went back to petting the rabbit's... Tyrone's... cheeks. "Why would I bitch about it?"

He couldn't think of what made 'Tyrone' a weird name for a bunny. Pets as a rule could be called anything and everything, and as names went, Tyrone was at least a name. Unlike Fluffy or Carrotbutt or whatever people named rabbits. Clement couldn't think of any famous Tyrones, but as one who avoided books and things shown on screens, he wasn't very up on his popular culture.

And because he had to know, just for his own peace of mind, he asked, "Uh. You... you don't... l-light on fire, d-do you?"

Tyrone, who was very happy with the attention he was getting, then did what rabbit owners called a flop. It showed he was relaxed and content, but to an observer who did not know rabbits, like Clement, it also resembled the bunny version of playing dead.

Shit, I broke him. Looking up at the other kid, Clement's eyes showed a small amount of panic and guilt and a bigger amount of confusion. "Is... is he okay?"

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse generally looked irate when he was on the Hammel grounds. Though he was trying to curb that habit, it was sometimes hard. Especially if he happened to see the trainer responsible for his mentor’s murder. It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself and his tongue in check as he walked by. Those days were harder, and it was for that reason that he avoided the hell out of the training hallways unless he had no choice.

The blond gave the kid a look of slight surprise when he admitted that he knew he was too young for beer. So... why had he done it in the first place? Jesse didn’t want to think about reasons why, because who knew? Maybe they’d hit closer to home than he really wanted things to. This was why he didn’t make friends.

“I don’t care why you did it. It was dumb.” Even more dumb than just underage drinking, if his appearance was anything to go by. Not that he was one to preach, being that he’d been under eighteen when he’d first drank, and he’d been smoking longer illegally than legally.

At least Ty didn’t seem to care about any of this. He was getting attention, and now he had a home he thrived on it. Jesse just kept a cautious eye on him, ensuring he could catch him before he launched off of the bench and took off through the grass again.

The question made Jesse snort and roll his eyes, pushing his bangs away from his face. “Because it’s a dumbass name for a rabbit. Couldn’t tell the person that named him that, though.” Not if he’d wanted to live. He had let Fifi name him as a way to cheer her up. Just because he disliked what she picked didn’t mean he’d change it, though. Stupid as it was, he still felt a vague tug of loyalty towards Fifi, especially since they’d both been out of MSAD. He owed her, and if naming his rabbit something stupid was a small way to repay her, he’d deal with it.

Questions. The kid had a lot of them. Jesse sighed and shook his head. “You ask a lot of questions, but no. I don’t.” After a pause, he hunched his shoulders and clasped his hands, resting his forehead on them. “I do worse than that. I get into your head, change memories. Dreams, if you’re sleeping, too.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to scare the kid or not. He seemed kind of... skittish already, and really, Jesse’s steam for antagonism was running low. “Pyrokinetics are stupid as a rule, though. If you’re gonna be a bitch with your powers, at least be subtle about it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ty move. The flop got his attention, but only a fraction of it. He really wasn’t worried about his pet moving anywhere now. And, because he’d decided he wasn’t actively trying to spook the kid, he just shook his head. “He’s fine. You made him happy is all. He’ll get up in a minute.” Maybe. If Clement stopped touching him.

[Clement Evans]

“I don’t care why you did it. It was dumb.”

For just a moment Clement didn't care that this kid was older, bigger, stronger, and that he was in no shape for another physical confrontation. The blond was no boss of him, and Clement let a wave of irritation and fuck you to pass over his face.

“Because it’s a dumbass name for a rabbit. Couldn’t tell the person that named him that, though.”

If you were going to let someone else name your pets, you got what you deserved, in Clement's opinion, but he didn't say so. "It's just a name," he murmured. The rabbit didn't look like a Tyrone to him, but Ty... he could see it. Ty was pretty cute too. Clement had never seen a pet rabbit this close up. The thing's nose moved like mad, and it groomed like a cat. It leaned right into Clement's ministrations.

“You ask a lot of questions, but no. I don’t.”

That made him feel better and embarrassed again, and a little grumpy that his cultures were mixing. Embarrassment was sort of a dongsaeng feeling and he shouldn't be having them with another waegukin, since the blond hadn't been raised that way, even though it sounded like a rebuke. Still, his shoulders lowered a little when there was no lighting on fire.

“I do worse than that. I get into your head, change memories. Dreams, if you’re sleeping, too.”

"You wouldn't say that was worse if you'd ever been on fire," he said. Memory changing sounded like candy sprinkles next to what Xavier had done. Could this kid take away that last memory of his dad? It was tempting. Very tempting. But it would mean that what was left was a lie, and it couldn't take away the whole last six months before it.

“Pyrokinetics are stupid as a rule, though. If you’re gonna be a bitch with your powers, at least be subtle about it.”

"...Pie... row... what?"

And then Ty took on a pose Clement was more used to seeing in swimsuit magazines that looked... really weird on a rabbit. “He’s fine. You made him happy is all. He’ll get up in a minute.”

"Oh." That was happy? Huh. Unable to resist the long fluffy sides, Clement gently ran his finger down Tyrone's back and belly, and again under his chin. He was so soft and warm, Clement didn't see why the blond didn't pet him more often.

It was another question, but Clement felt a little absurd knowing what to call the rabbit but not the kid. "What's your name?"

[Jesse Adams]

The irritated look on the kid’s face actually gave Jesse an odd sense of amusement. How often had he given others that very same look at that age? Too many to count, probably. Done behind certain people’s backs, of course. It made him smirk slightly. Sure the comment had been born more of an almost-caring feeling, but the reaction it had sparked was unexpected. And pretty entertaining.

Ty’s name had come about as a distraction for Jesse’s former ally. He’d been pretty proud of it at the time. At least until she’d given Ty a stupid name. He was getting used to it, but really. Tyrone. Thank you so much, Fiona. “Yeah, it’s just a name. Like Hitler’s just a name.” Yes, he was sulking. He’d been hoping to win people over to his side when it came to stupid pet names. Oh well. At least Ty had a name now, rather than being called just ‘bunny’ or ‘hey you.’

The kid’s reaction to the knowledge that he wasn’t a pyrokinetic was also a little surprising. It looked like relief, which he could understand. He just didn’t get the reasoning for it. Not until he explained. A tiny frown took over as he swallowed the urge to haul off and track down the pyro responsible. Rixon wasn’t this big of a dick, he was pretty sure. Then again, if it had been over beer... maybe he could bribe it out of the kid. Somehow.

“I’ve never been on fire,” he admitted. “But if I wanted, I could make you think you were two years old again. Wipe your entire memory clean.” It would probably also punch a huge hole in his own memory banks, which didn’t sound all that desirable. “Not that I would.” Not unless he had a very, very good reason.

“... Pyrokinetic. Fire starters?” He didn’t know how else to tactfully explain what a pyrokinetic was, mostly because he didn’t like most of them. Well. Rixon. But that didn’t really matter, unless Rixon had been the one to burn the poor kid. “That’s the power that makes fire,” he tried again. God. Since when had he possessed this much patience?

He glanced down at Ty again, who looked like he was soaking in the attention. The blond made a small mental note to keep him out of his cage tonight and try to bond with him some more. Maybe he’d track down that animal talker girl from the pet store and see if she could talk to him, make sure he was happy.

When the kid asked for his name, Jesse almost wanted to walk away. He knew his reputation around the school. At one point he might have delighted in it, but now? Now it was almost a source of shame. There would be no escaping it if the kid had heard anything. “Jesse,” he answered, voice softer now. “What about you?”

[Clement Evans]

“Yeah, it’s just a name. Like Hitler’s just a name.”

That made Clement raise an eyebrow. "If you really hate it, change it."

The friend would understand, wouldn't they? If they were a friend. If Clement had let Minho name his pet and he'd chosen something Clement really didn't like, he knew his hyung would be amenable to choosing something else.

It was good there was Ty between them, stupid name or not. It gave Clement something to concentrate on rather than the kid. Made him less nervous.

“I’ve never been on fire. But if I wanted, I could make you think you were two years old again. Wipe your entire memory clean. Not that I would.”

Granted, Clement had been armored up when his clothes had gone up, so he'd technically been on fire even though he hadn't felt it. The armor was probably the only reason Xavier O'Conner wasn't in jail. If Clement had gone into the hospital with second degree burns over more than seventy percent of his body, three months of gardening probably would not have cut it.

Rather than be scared of what the blond could do, Clement was thoughtful. "Could you make someone remember being born? 'Cause there's people who'd pay for that."

What would it be like to have no memory, anyway? Would it mean he'd forget everything? Like how to walk or talk or... think? It was an idea Clement rather sourly thought might do him some good, to get his brain rebooted and learn everything again from the ground up. Maybe he'd do things right the second time around.

“...Pyrokinetic. Fire starters? That’s the power that makes fire.”

Oh. Clement immediately felt grumpy again, that there was a big science-y word for what Xavier did. All he'd heard during his powers assessment was 'body armor'. No fancy-schmancy name. For a moment, his brain almost made a connection between his brief resentment of a lack of better term for his power and the kid's dislike of the name Tyrone, but it couldn't finish itself and fell through. Still, Clement was left with a vague notion that they were having similar feelings... though he still saw nothing wrong with Tyrone the rabbit.

And even though he had the definition of the word, Clement still didn't quite have the word itself anchored in his head. "Pyrokint... pyrokin... eck..." His eyes narrowed in concentration. "...S-say it again?"

As one who had spent his first week at Hammel in a hospital and his second in the infirmary, Clement hadn't had much of a chance to hear any of the local gossip and still hadn't even met his roommates. So the blond's name had no resonance or meaning to him, though he would've understood the trepidation, given that he was known as 'that kid who was set on fire' to those who'd heard of his own infamous episode.

"Clement." And then he added his last name, because sometimes people thought his first was his last. "Evans."

Ty seemed more interested in his fingers than in petting, so Clement held them near the bunny's active nose for him to sniff.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse snorted at the response he got and ran his fingers over Ty’s hind legs. “I value my life more than a name change. An old friend named him for me, and you don’t mess with pregnant girls and what they want.” Even he knew better than that. Fifi had seemed so happy after giving the rabbit a name that he’d feel bad about changing it. He’d just sulk about it until he was used to it.

He kept stroking Ty’s legs, careful to avoid touching Clement. His question took him by surprise. Make someone remember being born? Well, if he delved back far enough... maybe. He’d been told that his searching through memories felt like idle thoughts to those he did it to. If he flipped back far enough, could he make that kind of memory come back? He didn’t know, so he shrugged. “I’ve never tried. Who’d want that, anyway?” He couldn’t think of a reason someone would want to remember that kind of thing. He was more used to people wanting memories wiped, not restored.

He’d been idly threatened with the notion of having his memory wiped before, and he couldn’t say that the thought had excited him at the time. Though there were key things he thought about having removed from his memories, he hadn’t actually acted on it. Removing his father from his memories was one thing, or at least the things he’d done to him growing up. But removing his mentor was something that had crossed his mind, only to be tossed aside. He didn’t know what it was to not carry around the grief from his death, and he was scared to find out. Dr. Neville could take anything else away from him. Just not that. Not Gabriel.

If Clement was going to sulk over the lack of a science term for his power, then Jesse could join him too. Memory and dream manipulation was just that. Nothing more, and nothing fancy to call it. Not that it bothered him. He didn’t care, as long as he could wield it properly.

He arched a pierced eyebrow, but said nothing at Clement’s attempts to get the word. With more patience than he normally showed, he just sighed and said it again. Slower, this time. He wasn’t going to be an ass about it, shockingly. “Pyro, kin, etic.” Hopefully that would help him.

Not that he cared. Of course not.

“Okay. Clement.” It was better than kid, he supposed. Sort of. “What were you even doing out here? Avoiding your roommates?” It was something he knew a little about. Or a lot. Especially when rumors trailed the halls after him. “Not that it matters. Free country, I guess.”

[Clement Evans]

Clement had no experience with either female friends or pregnant ones, which at his age were hopefully mutually exclusive, but he understood that certain conditions made people very touchy. Which made why Jesse had allowed his pregnant friend to name his rabbit all the more mysterious, trying to be nice or no. At least if he had to yell at the thing he'd be yelling 'Tyrone' and not 'Mr. Fluffers'.

Who'd want to know what it was like to be born? Was he serious? "Doctors," he said, "and scientists." He shrugged. "Don't they go on about knowing stuff like that?"

Well, at least Jesse's power had 'manipulation' in it. And 'dream and memory manipulation' certainly sounded a lot cooler than 'armor'. Clement couldn't do anything that someone with money and access to either the armed forces or a sports shop couldn't do.

“Pyro, kin, etic.”

"P... Pie-row-kin-et-tick." Clement said it under his breath a few times till it came out right. If he was honest with himself, it was a pretty cool word, even if it was what Xavier was. He wondered if there was a Korean equivalent. Clement stroked Tyrone under his chin again, and the bunny lifted his head to allow access, very pleased with all the attention.

“Okay. Clement. What were you even doing out here? Avoiding your roommates? Not that it matters. Free country, I guess.”

"I haven't met my roommates. Dr. Nik said I could go outside." All the wounds had finally closed, though the skin over them was thin and delicate. Clement was still residing in the Infirmary, though the doctor had said he'd be going back to his dorm very soon. She had helped him dress, too, which was why he was currently wearing underwear and socks.

"...Why're you out here?"

[Jesse Adams]

Fiona was Jesse’s first experience with anyone pregnant beyond his own mother, and he couldn’t remember his mother ever being that moody. Granted, she’d been older, and more experienced with it. Still, he’d been nice and let her hug on Tyrone, and, when that had gotten old, hug him. It had taken a lot of will power, but he’d let her do it, and even hugged her back after a while. She had a weird effect on him, and it wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

“The problem with making someone remember that is how deep you have to go,” he said with a shake of his head. “Even doing it once, there’s a shitton of stuff to go wrong. ‘Sides, God only knows how many of my own memories I’d destroy.” His memories were already spotty due to the dozens of changes he’d made for Gabriel under his training regime. He didn’t want to deal with them going any further south. “Screw the scientists. ... And the doctors.” He’d never cooperate with them, no matter the compensation. The very idea of being near them, even for something like memory retrieval, bore a very, very large red flag for him. No thanks.

Huh. So he wasn’t avoiding roommates. Though the mention of the resident doctor made him wince involuntarily, he tried not to show it. “Well, it’s a hell of a lot better our here than in there.” Jesse jerked his head in the general direction of the buildings, not caring which one he actually indicated.

“Avoiding roommates.” What else was he supposed to say? “And to give Ty some fresh air that doesn’t smell like dirty teenager.” His dorms seemed to reek of it most days, no matter how much he tried to keep his room’s mess to a minimum. “Where’re you rooming?” Not that he cared. Honestly. He didn’t.

And why was that feeling of punching out any pyrokinetic he came across still burning? Goddammit, he did not care.

[Clement Evans]

"Oh." He hadn't said that, had he. "If it fucks you up, then no."

Making other people remember stuff made Jesse lose his own memories? That sounded like a bitch. Could he lose stuff like how to do math or something? Or just stuff that had happened? Clement decided he didn't want to know. And he hated doctors too, though for different reasons. Giving them the silent treatment didn't mean they didn't find things out. So. Maybe not such different reasons after all, not that he'd know it.

“Well, it’s a hell of a lot better out here than in there.”

"Kind of." In the infirmary he had the pens and notebook Mia had gotten him, and no one bothered him. Dr. Nik sometimes put on the radio, and his injuries didn't hurt too much if he didn't make any sharp movements. The doctor warned him to stay out of the sun, since his healing skin was sensitive.

“Avoiding roommates. And to give Ty some fresh air that doesn’t smell like dirty teenager. Where’re you rooming?”

Clement remembered just in time not to frown in that way he did that wrinkled his nose. He had earlier in the week and had instantly, deeply regretted it. Still, his brows drew together a little to form a little dimple between them. "The boys' dorm. Five oh one."

He had the key for the door back with his things. Clement had almost put his new key on his dad's old ring. But if anyone stole his key for any reason, he'd lose his dad's keys too. So he'd attached it to a plastic twist tie with the tab from the can of pop Mia had brought him on the other end.

With Jesse leaning over to pet Tyrone, he was inside that admittedly narrow sweet spot of Clement's (reasonably) clear vision. A pair of very light blue eyes took in the blond hair, the piercings, the fair skin, the stubborn expression. He recognized a certain... sameness. And however nervous the older boy made him, that similarity he sensed quieted him in places too. Clement looked back down at Tyrone.

About to say something more, he heard the doctor call his name. It was time to go in. Standing carefully, Clement started back, head full of thoughts, when he remembered and turned back, lifting a hand in goodbye.