Naptime, Interrupted (closed, Sabretooth)

[Birdy]

After a morning spent peddling shotguns to people who had never even held one before, and telling the punk kids that their girlfriend's ring wasn't even real gold and therefore not even worth a sawbuck, Birdy returned to the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House feeling just a little grumpy. It was mid-afternoon, Saturday, and she had gotten up entirely too early this morning without there being school involved. But at least now she could eat lunch. A very late lunch.

The house had needed groceries anyway.

The blonde telepath killed the engine on her pickup and nudged the door open. She slid to the ground, her booted feet crunching on the gravel, and leaned over the passenger-seat to grab the bags of food she'd brought back. Some vegetables, meats and other assorted things -- also a bag of charcoal. There was a neglected little grill in back, and she was making ribs tonight; she didn't care who had them with her. But she figured if people wanted other things she could spare a little time for burgers or hot dogs or something else.

It's not like everybody was going to leave the food alone anyway if she put her name on it and walked away.

Someone was in the living room when she entered through the front door. She got the impression they were sleeping before she even stepped through the door, so as the screen door moved to snap shut behind her she stuck her foot up to stop it from slamming. Closing it quietly, she glanced sidelong at the couch and its inhabitant and found herself stopping.

That one was new.

[Victor Creed]

Victor was in a reasonably good mood; he'd arrived at the Boarding House today and 'made himself at home' which of course meant claiming a bedroom, ferreting around the place and taking in all the odours and sounds and breaking all the locks on the various doors and windows. The reason Victor did this - breaking the locks - was somewhat peculiar, yet to him it made perfect sense, for one it ensured he would never be locked out, and in light of his natural ability to get under peoples skins that was always a concern in shared living-spaces, but more especially it showed he wasn't afraid; nobody would break into a home owned by Victor Creed, not twice, not unless it had a wheelchair ramp for the second try. Victor was the lock; he was the guard dog and the house alarm. As if the illustrate this very fact the deep sleep into which he had slumbered on the downstairs couch was disturbed by the sound of a new arrival.

Victor could probably have guessed the make of pickup had he been bothered, so clearly did he hear the vehicle pull up. He knew, roughly, the weight and gait of the girl - or very small man - and he knew the kind of shoes he or she was wearing. It was of course, not a man, and he knew this also, but it was not his hearing which gave that clue and rather his sense of smell; Victor inhaled deeply as the girl stood on the threshold so that he could recognize her scent if he ever caught it again. She'd been working with bullets, he could smell the heavy preservation grease and guessed they were either 9mm parabellum or .22 LR rounds. He could further pick up the resinous, tell-tale scent of gold, and the old smell of much-handled, well circulated cash, which lead to him guessing she worked at a pawn and gun. Of course Victor had not even seen the girl, but such were the nature of his senses that already he had formed an extensive opinion regarding her. It was mostly negative, albeit tempered by the smell of meat; ribs he guessed, and Victor wondered if she'd be cooking them tonight. He hadn't eaten since he'd arrived and was thinking with his stomach for now as a result, and the potential promise of ribs would stir him to acting with some civility at least.

Charcoal too. He could smell that. It made him wrinkle his nose. Victor didn't like it; it got stuck, and made everything else harder to pick up. Still it was a good way to cook ribs, so he could forgive her for bringing it into his house. Yes, his house, it was his now.

'Cook me some'a them ribs, girl, an' I'll share my beer with ya,' he smiled, but it was not entirely a charming expression; it seemed like the smile of a man who did not do so often, or the kind of smile more often associated with violence and negativity than one linked with friendliness and openness. Victor slowly raised himself up on his hands as he spoke, turning to one side and sliding his legs off the arm of the couch upon which they'd been propped, his heavily-booted feet slapping down noisily atop the hardwood floor. He looked at Birdy now for the first time and without pause, or a moment for introspection, without self-consciousness in any degree or measure Victor lazily allowed his gaze to shift first to her feet, checking her boots, before following her legs up, over her torso, arms and neck before finally stopping at he regarded her face. 'Cute,' he thought, while lazily now casting his gaze about him for his shirt. Victor never dressed to impress, but right now he was even more ill-kept than normal; wearing nothing but a pair of military-style trousers belted heavily about his slender waist with high-top combat boots and no shirt, having removed it earlier to sleep more comfortable; it was a tank-top, and he found it partly-under his torso, pulling it out and dragging it on over his shoulders before he snatched up a wife-beater from the floor in addition, but he did not put this on just yet, simply sitting there with it in his hand instead.

'S'in the Kitchen,' Victor now went on, grinning in a way that showed his fangs. The grin, although hardly charming itself, was allot more pleasant than his smile; it set off a somewhat roguish twist to his features that made him seem very devil-may-care. ''n Grab me one while yer at it, they been on ice fer a while, should be just about cold 'nuff' of course Victor had not put the case of beer into the fridge or freezer, as this would have taken too long and also perhaps lead to his room-mates pilfering them. Instead they were in a trash can he'd 'borrowed' from one of the neighbours and filled with ice which he'd purchased from a Garage, to keep unwanted pilferers out Victor had put a hole through the lid and clipped both sides on with light padlocks. He'd planned to take it up to his bedroom once he'd had enough of couch-napping, so that he could get a little buzzed before going out to explore the town, but now that plan had to be put on hold. Victor would wait and see what happened with this girl first. 'Here,' Victor added. 'You'll need these,' with that he tossed a set of keys toward Birdy, so she could unlock the can. 'There's a bottle o' Wild Turkey on ice too if yer not into beer,' he added.

Then, it occurred to him, that there was a girl who was apparently staying here whom he had to meet. He remembered Magneto telling him of her Telepathic abilities and how they might be of use to Victor; naturally he wondered, therefore, if this was her. He had no way of telling though. A curious expression now drifted across his features as he wondered while pulling the wife-beater shirt over one shoulder and then the other, letting it hang wrinkled and unkempt with the buttons undone as he awaited the girl's responce.

[Birdy]

Birdy shifted the bags she was carrying, realizing she was probably going to be standing there for a second. He hasn't even opened his eyes when he started to talk to her, but she was aware, at least, of just how aware of her he was. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. He was smiling, too, but it wasn't exactly a nice smile. But hey, at least he was offering her beer. "That so?" she asked.

He knew she had ribs. She guessed he could smell them. Yeah...this was probably the guy Magneto wanted her to look to. Sitting up, he finally looked at her, and Birdy just kind of watched him watch her. He didn't hate what he saw -- she knew that much at least.

"S'in the kitchen." He grinned at her, and that all but confirmed that he was the one she'd been waiting on to show up. The fanged youth tossed something toward her. A jingle, the glint of light in the air, and Birdy turned slightly to the side to catch what appeared to be a key in one of the grocery bags. She debated being difficult with him -- she'd picked fights for less than telling her what to do, but if Magneto wanted her to work with this guy, she'd have to try not to make it too rough on herself.

"Two beers comin' up. Ribs are for dinner tonight, though." She said this last part with finality, then turned to head into the kitchen. She set the bags down on the counter -- her beautifully newly varnished counters, and set to unpacking, pocketting the set of keys as she got to them. "Anythin' else you want while I'm in here?"

[Victor Creed]

Victor could tell she wasn't entirely happy about him telling her to get him a beer, but since she was going ahead and doing it anyway - he wasn't entirely sure why - it didn't bother him. Aside from that slight note of stand-offishness which Victor was able to detect he couldn't tell if she was bothered or annoyed by him, but then he only had his eyes, nose and ears to go on; Victor was no telepath, though he made a fairly accurate turn of reading the expression and posture of most people, there was something about this girl which he found slightly opaque. Victor disregarded it however since it was not manifesting itself in any negative fashion he could discern; she was, after all, prepared to do what he had told her to do, so far, and went on to offer to cook the ribs just as he had asked, albeit saying they were 'for dinner' which Victor assumed would come a little later than if he had his way. No point getting his back up over it, though, he thought; the food was hers and she was the one who would be cooking it.

Victor smiled to himself as the girl caught the keys and left the room; watching her unabashedly and regarding her tiny backside with some measure of laconic interest as she walked. He liked the way it moved. 'Great,' Victor said. 'An when's dinner?' he asked. 'Nothin' fer me,' he added, then, content, for now, with just a beer until dinner rolled around.

With this Victor pulled his shirt around him a little, as though he were trying to smooth out the wrinkles in the girls absence. He sat up properly then and placed his feet on the chest which, between the two couches, was serving as something of a coffee table, sliding up a little to ensure there would be room for Birdy when she returned whether she wanted to sit next to him or opposite him. 'Sit down,' Victor called out, and it was difficult to tell from his tone whether he was ordering her to do so, or merely suggesting she do.

As Birdy came back into the room a somewhat thoughtful look overtook him now, and Victor raised a hand to his neck, using one finger to pensively stroke the heavy stubble beneath his lip as he thought to himself. Victor sat like this for a moment, a few seconds, simply regarding the girl as the two sat before he reached out to pick up his cold beer from off the table. ‘That Wild Turkey I stole,’ he explained. ‘I ain’t into Bourbon so you can take it if ya want,’ Victor did not actually mind Bourbon, but he had something, a request of sorts, and so he thought that this might grease the wheels of diplomacy as it were. Extending his claws as he took up his beer can Victor tore the top off it, taking a deep pull which emptied more than half the can before he set it down again, and he burped loudly, although he made an effort to cover his mouth with his forearm as he did so. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered almost inaudibly before going on. 'Been here long?' he asked. 'Reckon you could tell me how things roll in this town, Bayville, y'know, what's the local buzz, what we're doin' here in this Boardin' House, that kinda thing,'

'I just got here,' he added, taking a moment to explain his situation so far as he was willing. 'Been in New England before, but never 'round here, spent mosta my time outta th' way, y'know; runnin' the border an' occasionally steppin' over, kept myself busy 'n fed with smash and grabs, but I don't reckon that'll fly here so I gotta find a way to bring in th' cash with less heat since I'm plannin' on stayin' here fer a while. Might try enforcement, somethin' in that line; y'know, muscle fer hire,' Victor shrugged. 'Now you work in a pawn 'n gun, right-' he held up a hand. '-I ain't a stalker, s'my powers, I can smell bullet grease 'n cash on yer hands so easy, tiger, 'cuz I'm just wonderin' if you got any contacts is all,' with that Victor sat back and took up his beer again, finishing it off. ‘Another?’ he asked, prepared to get up and get them both another drink, or at the very least to get himself a new beer and grab the bottle of Bourbon for Birdy.

[Birdy]

Birdy never answered when dinner would be. He replied to her question too soon for her to think to anyway, so she just finished putting the things she bought in the refrigerator and the appropriate cabinets -- for a moment having to climb up onto the counter to reach the higher shelves. Once all that was complete she used the keys that Creed gave to her and fetched a couple beers. Just one wouldn't hurt. She didn't touch the Wild Turkey, though, because the last thing she needed was for Magneto or Emma to show up and catch her drunk.

She relocked the 'can' and returned to the living room, plunking down on the couch next to the larger mutant with hardly a second thought. It certainly didn't occur to her that she might be invading his space, but then if he expected to intimidate her he probably shouldn't have offered her free booze so readily.

Birdy handed one off to him and listened. He offered her the Wild Turkey to keep for herself, which she sensed might have had an ulterior motive, though not necessarily a bad one. She didn't push too deep to find out and it passed so quickly she only had a second to think on it anyway.

Creed asked her if she'd been there long, and she was caught half shaking her head 'no' and half shrugging when he simply went on, talking about where he'd been to in the area, work, lack of work, and then finally that he knew where she worked because of how she smelled. Saying he could smell the gun oil on her hands still made her look at them a little self-consciously, even though she knew he'd probably pick up on even faint traces.

For a -- what was it Magneto called them? -- feral mutant, he sure did talk a lot. Changing had if anything made her brother quieter, after all. She opened her beer just as he asked her if she wanted another, and took a gulp. She hoped he was asking her that, and not seeing if she'd get him another one.

She still had the keys anyway, and offered them to him.

"I'm Birdy," she said. "And you're Victor Creed, right?"

[Victor Creed]

Victor had assumed Birdy would sit opposite him, but was surprised - albeit pleasantly - when she in fact took the seat next to him on the same couch. He knew why, Victor did not need to be able to read her mind to understand this much; it couldn't be attraction because so far as he could tell there was none, it was too early for that, no, it was stubbornness and pride rather, she'd sit next to him just to show that she wasn't intimidated which, ironically meant she was experiencing a degree of intimidation or at the very least recognized the potential for it given their respective sizes, but the fact was she was showing pluck by doing it and Victor had to respect that. Of course he had no idea what her powers were, unless she was the blonde Telepath Magneto had told him to find - but in the world of mutation size, of course, meant little. Nevertheless it carried much weight in the mind and in how one regarded people, and it was good to see she put little stock by it, being pluckier than most girls, and having, clearly, a measure of heart and courage which Victor could not help but respect even if he did so with a farcical touch of humour.

Sucking on and finishing the beer Victor crushed the empty can in his large hand, the flimsy aluminium easily wrinkling up, bending and contorting into a misshapen ball; it did not, of course, take any measure of super-strength to do this and any man of Victor's size could easily have crushed the can, but nevertheless if one were watching closely they might catch the fact that Victor seemed to crush the can into an even smaller ball than one might think probable; further more the jagged edges of the contorted aluminium seemed excessive and almost dangerous due to how utterly he'd crushed down the vessel. In fact, if Birdy was watching she could have seen a thin trickle of blood stream down his wrist from where the jagged edge had caught beneath his thumb and torn through his skin, but this small streak of blood quickly slowed, drying onto the skin. There was no more to be seen after a few seconds of dripping; Victor's healing factor had closed the wound.

'On it,' he said, and Victor picked up the keys off the table before standing up. He spent a moment stretching his large, muscular arms in a languid fashion while stifling a yawn before he lazily paced into the kitchen while scratching the side of his neck with his long claws extended, being careful so as not to cut himself or slice off any of his long hair. 'Yep,' he replied as he returned to the room, carrying or partly dragging the trash can full of ice and beer behind him. 'Folks call me Vic., Creed, or Victor, I don't much care which; Magneto reckons my mutant name's Sabretooth,' as he explained this Victor dragged the bin over by the small coffee table, setting it down within arms reach of Birdy and himself from where they were sitting. Had she attempted to lift the same bin it may have surprised her; being full almost entirely of ice and beer it was rather heavy, and yet Victor lugged it along all with relative ease and seeming laziness in his gait as he manhandled it into position with only one arm. Clearly he was stronger than he looked.

'S'nice ta meet ya,' he said, taking the lid off the bin and retrieving another beer from within it before also removing the bottle of Bourbon and setting it down on the table in front of the girl. This time however when Victor sat down, he placed himself opposite Birdy on the other couch so that they could converse more easily, facing each other comfortably and naturally. This he did because he knew now this was the girl Magneto had wanted him to meet, and it meant they would have much to say to one another. Victor wiped his hand once quickly across some of the protruding ice which was spilling over the top of the makeshift esky and then proceeded to wipe it on his shirt so that the blood was cleaned off before he extended it toward Birdy offering it to shake.

'Magneto said I was sposed to meet you,' he said. 'Well, he said I was 'sposed to meet Birdy, but I din't know that was you 'till just now, he said yer a Telepath an' yer powers are gonna help me or somethin', I gotta admit I don't understand half of it. Reckon you can fill me in?' Victor was trying to be pleasant and civil. It was for this reason he had removed the Bourbon, given it to her, it was for this reason he had gotten the beer instead of asking her too. It was for this reason he no longer mentioned dinner. He did know, to some degree, what it was she was supposed to help with; Magneto had explained to him that she could nullify the effect of his more terrible memories and that this would help him to be calm, but to ask her to do this Victor would need to admit he needed help, and to do that would leave a very bitter taste in his mouth. He would try, instead, to have her bring it up and speak of it. Victor did not like being thought of as someone in need to aid or help, much less to be thought of as helpless, he hated his memories and they made him do terrible things, but he could live with that, he could not live with being thought weak though. ‘I’ll find some way to pay ya, maybe,’ Victor wasn’t sure how he would do this, no doubt he could earn money via some criminal activity though and he would happily give this girl some for her help. Reaching over to grab another beer Victor opened it and took a few thoughtful sips as he wondered idly how he could make some cash quickly. He felt that if he offered her a monetary reward it would seem less like he was being helped or coddled.

[Birdy]

Birdy switched her beer into another and shook Victor's fearlessly. People usually said she had a pretty strong handshake, but in this particular case, the act looked less like a greeting and more like a small animal being swallowed whole by a much larger one. Considering she'd just watched him mash a can to the size of a shot glass, she didn't doubt he was strong, and had noticed, if only briefly, that he bled out quickly -- maybe more than that, considering she didn't see any place where he was cut. But right now she was just thinking size. He couldn't have been all that much older than her, but damn if he wasn't huge. All things considered, she didn't exactly have a wide catalog of people to compare him to -- her brother had been a smaller, and Mile would have looked like a grade A wimp next to this person. She couldn't say this didn't please her, either.

Her eyes stopped on Victor's claws for a moment -- not because she was troubled they were there, but they didn't resemble Jem Jr's, either. The way the skin creased around them, not quite attached the way human fingernails were, and they had an odd curve. She might have imagined like a house cat, and assumed they got longer and shorter from that, but the only cats she'd ever met up close were declawed, so her first thought was of a raccoon instead.

Either way, though. "Cool," she mused, before sitting back on the couch and taking another gulp from her can.

He mentioned being aware of what Magneto wanted her to do, but she picked up quickly enough that he knew exactly why and wasn't going to be the first to say it. It wasn't like it was some huge taboo thing, either; she would have gotten the impression that he had been told not to talk about it. No, he just didn't want to appear like he needed anything -- accentuated by the fact that he offered her payment almost immediately.

Birdy could handle that, but then Magneto was already putting a little extra cash in her pocket for this.

"Well boss," she started a little vaguely -- the nickname popped out as her first reaction to the feeling that help was never going to be asked for; give the man a little more control, or the feeling of it, "if I'm understanding my job here, Magneto wants me to use one of my abilities on you." Of course, the blonde didn't look the most comfortable with discussing it, herself, because she didn't know how she felt about doing it for a stranger. "What that'll involve is me stepping into your mind, and sorting some bad things -- memories, dreams, stuff like that -- to the back for you. It'll make you calmer, more focused, and for a little while you'll just be generally a little sharper than usual. Consider it a perk. Won't be doing it often, just as much as is needed. Can't do more than that; it fucks me up too much." Birdy raised an eyebrow at him. "Hows that sound to you?"

[Victor Creed]

Victor let go of Birdy's hand and took up his newly opened can of beer again, putting it to his lips while the girl regarded him; he wasn't sure what she was thinking as she supplied few clues via her posture, bearing and expression, but Victor did not care to know either. She was being largely polite and respectful and that was enough, even if she was thinking differently he did not care so long as she continued to act with some deference toward him. It was as he raised his beer however that Victor noticed just what she was looking at, though he couldn't tell if her gaze had shifted or if she'd been watching them all the while, but it was clear to him she was looking at his claws. He faught the urge to tense his hands upon being made aware of this, lest the muscles in his forearms force his claws out further to make them even more noticeable, and Victor instead concentrated on withdrawing them, retracting them inward as far as he could, though he knew that would not entirely hide them from view; it would nevertheless hopefully serve to direct her attention elsewhere. Chugging his beer, now, Victor looked over the can toward the girl.

'Cool,' he heard her remark, and while perhaps this had not been meant for his ears Victor's sensetive hearing nevertheless detected the comment. 'What's cool?' he thought to himself. Did she mean to say she thought his claws were cool? If this was so, Victor was surprised, having never before heard such sentiment, and certainly never having expected to hear it for the first time from a girl. He raised an eyebrow at the blonde telepath, then, lowering his now half-empty beer can down so that it did not sit between them.

'S'part of my mutation,' he explained, and with this Victor grinned openly so as to show her his fangs before, placing the beer can down atop the table he held up one hand, fingers splayed and while he turned it about one-hundred and eighty degrees before her face so she could see from both angles his withdrawn claws. Victor then tensed his fingers, curling them slightly so as to project his claws full-length from their hidden sheathes while he turned his hand once more fully about for her studious benefit, more slowly this time, before retracting them and reaching for his beer. 'I heal fast, too,' he said. Victor was glad for this change of topic, because it meant he could now spend time explaining his powers to her and go on from that to some other irrelevant topic while if she wished to help him, she would need to approach the topic herself and so save him the trouble of looking like he was asking for it. 'An' I'm stronger'n most,' he added lastly. Victor drained the last of his beer before crushing the can as he had the first and setting it down atop the table next to the first crushed vessel before his free hand reached for the hem of his light shirt.

'Watch,' he said, pulling his shirt up until his hairy chest was exposed from within the half-closed wife beater shirt he was wearing over the tank-top. Victor's other hand came to his chest, one claw extending before he raked it visibly across his own skin directly across the sturnum. It was a sharp, incised wound and even though clotted by thick-black hair his blood was soon dripping down in one slowly-congealing channel that ran down his chest and over the edge of his ribs. Before the steady trickle had run to his stomach however the wound has visibly closed, miraculously self-healing as though one had watched many days, or even weeks of normal regeneration in time-lapse.

'Apart from that,' he noted, while using one edge of his wife-beater to rub the blood off his chest before lowering the hem of his shirt again and reaching for yet another beer. 'I smell, hear an' taste, real sharp, an' I can see in th' dark.' Victor made to open his beer, but then thought differently. 'You know, or ya got an idea, at any rate, what I can do-' Victor made sure to fix his gaze over hers with this. '-I ain't pretendin' ta know what you can do, but then I reckon it couldn't help ya much either, an' I don't want you to take this th' wrong way, cuz ya seem like a decent girl, but I gotta warn ya,' Victor tapped his forehead. 'What you see in here, stays in here, or between you an' me, you don't even tell th' boss man, I don't like strangers knowin' much about me an' when ye've been in my head you'll know this is true, I've killed people fer knowin' less than you will, an', word to god honey, I'll kill you too if you don't play straight.'

[Birdy]

The 'quick healing' thing was unfortunately not one of the talents her brother had -- at least she didn't suspect he did. After all, he was dead, right? That kind of ruled out any special unknown healing abilities. Birdy allowed Victor to show her how his claws worked, his fangs, and he even cut himself to show her just how quickly his powers kicked in. Though the latter did make her tense somewhat, it was simply a motion of empathy more than anything. It's not something she would ever do to herself, so even knowing that he'd heal kind of didn't figure into why it initially got a reaction from her. She downed the rest of her beer.

When she explained what she would be there to do, everything that it felt like Victor might be thinking and everything he said synced up perfectly. She did not for a second doubt that what he said was true, that if she used her abilities on him and then shared his secrets with others, he would kill her. That, she had to take a moment to absorb, because she felt certain it was the first time anyone had ever seriously threatened her life -- though he was very much within reason to do so.

"I believe you," she said, and though the reality of the situation had reached her, she did her best to keep things conversational, calm. "And I promise you that if and when I finally do that, I won't go nowhere you don't let me go first. And no one hears about it. I've done it enough times to know that the things I see aren't meant to be shared; there's a reason why people bury those things. So you've got my word. Magneto gets no details, nor does anybody else." She swallows and holds out her hand. "That fair to you?"

[Victor Creed]

Victor brought the new beer can to his lips after he'd finished speaking, making his point, and he slowly drained it down to the dregs while he listened to what this girl had to say. A part of him hated the fact that he'd just given her a death-threat; she'd done nothing to deserve it, but more importantly such talk often set off shit-talking matches and the last thing Victor wanted was the hear about how tough this girl thought she was, how he didn't know what she could do and blah blah. Thankfully she did not respond like that though and so as Victor emptied his beer and set it down heavily on the table, he regarded her with a somewhat severe look, eyes fixed over hers, and then he nodded. 'I got it,' he said. 'An' I'm sorry fer having had to go so far in plain English, I know it ain't no way to talk to a team-mate, but I wanna to be level with ya, can't nobody say I don't give fair warnin','

[Birdy]

"Nope, definitely couldn't say that." Some of her humor was still there, but it was clear that Birdy was still weighing how she was going to thinking about things from here on. She believed him when he apologized just as much as she believed the threat. There were people, she'd imagine, who would know what she could do that would not want her poking around in their heads, and that was just as well. She'd never do anything she was capable of stopping or starting, for them, but it really let her tolerate a lot of things from certain people. They could lie to her face and keep certain things unspoken to save face but she always had a feel for what was meant, and for some reason that made things better.

She was starting to get the impression that Victor Creed would be one of those people. And maybe it was because Magneto had her reading for another feral. Maybe it was because of the beer, but once the moment was over, it was practically forgotten, and Birdy was suddenly very much in familiar territory.

It was weird. She didn't know this person. He wasn't Jem Jr. He wasn't even the same kind of feral. Jem Jr had times where he was almost what he was before his mutation began to appear. But when the moon came he couldn't be reasoned with. He didn't think human thoughts or speak human words.

It was why it'd been so important for Birdy and her Father to follow him when he took off into the woods. She liked to think it made him feel better, even then, that they were hunting with him. Her father said coyotes liked to hunt with family. Maybe that was why. But doing that, she wanted to hope it kept some part of them in his mind on the trail.

Victor Creed felt different, and the way Magneto had initially described him had made her think from the beginning that he'd be different. He wasn't sometimes a teenage boy and then sometimes an animal of some sort. He was both, and if he needed the glow to ease back certain tendancies, it meant that sometimes whatever balance he had tended to tip too far.

If it was a problem, she wanted to help.

In all that time she'd been thinking about this, she had simply been staring at some blank spot on the wall in front of her, holding her empty beer can like it belonged between her fingers and no place else. She shook her head out of her reverie, and she was Birdy again -- the welcome wagon, the door fixer, the cook, and none of those things came with baggage. "Anything else you'd like to know? I haven't been living here long myself, but I get around."

[Victor Creed]

Victor nodded, satisfied with her response, not just the verbal part of it, but the entire thing, and as if to visibly show his approval he made a show of then leaning back so as to be sitting in a more relaxed fashion while he regarded the girl, though a little of the intense scrutiny from earlier remained in the way he fixed her with his gaze. He listened as she asked whether or not he needed to know anything else, and Victor shook his head while reaching into one of his pockets; drawing out a packet of cheap cigarettes, from which he withdrew a single smoke before secreting the packet away on his person again. He lit it with a lighter he produced from somewhere else, and seemed to relax further while he exhaled.

'No,' Victor said, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he spoke. 'Nothin',' it wasn't entirely true. There were a few little things he wanted to know about Bayville, but he was planning on finding them out for himself and did not want the surprise ruined. But now it had come to it; their conversation largely exhausted, Victor could think of no further distractions and knew the subject could come back to her giving him psychic aid, but the fact was, he simply was not ready for that yet. She might have been a telepath, and therefore had some special insights into whether or not she could trust him, but Victor had no such special aid, and it would take nothing but time for such trust to be established.

Truth to tell, he wanted to go back to sleep now, at least until Birdy had finished cooking, but he wasn't sure how to say that without seeming dismissive.

[Birdy]

Birdy didn't second-guess his answer, even if he did say, not moments before, that he thought she might know more about the place and tell him how things rolled. She took his relaxing around her to be a good sign; it'd make things easier later, and she took comfort from the fact that it felt as though, like her, he was not the most eager to get started on what Magneto wanted of them. Remembering what her father told her about not doing things she felt too pressured to do, some of that weight had started to lift.

Sure, she'd have to glow him sooner or later. But in the meantime she could get to know him some, at least. She didn't have to worry that, as her talents would be needed, she'd go in, see something horrible, and then fear the face she saw when she pulled herself out again.

Hell, the first time she glowed her father she couldn't pass him in the hall without panicking for a good week.

But she picked up on his general attitude now, and that he didn't know how to say he wanted to go back to sleep, so she nodded to herself and rose with a sigh. "Well -- I'm gonna let you get back to your nap, boss," she said pleasantly enough. She strode toward the doorway to the kitchen and glanced back to wink at him. "I'll wake ya when the ribs're done."