Here for business

I mean leaving him with a bullet in his back was a new low even for her.

Erik had told her to go settle in to the building they had captured and she turned on the tv to try to get her mind off things.

Of course the missile crisis was on every channel.

She sighs, pulling her knees up to her chest.

@the-realraven-darkholme

Another day, another job to attend to.

This time, it was some basic equipment relocation. 'Leave this to the mutant who can be at two places at once. What's the heavy lifting about it anyway?' Declared their new mighty leader who could lift everything, all at once, off the ground, with a simple flick of the wrist.

It was an approximation of what was said, of course, but the message was clear as day, even though it had all been decreed in the dead of night.

Still, it was a nice change of pace, especially after the last task he had been assigned to... Truthfully, fighting a blue bear in the sky was one of life's most unexpected throws at him, and he had been through much already.

On his last trip, he had been told to bring a passenger along with the remaining box: The newest recruit, Mystique, a woman with a resolved gaze and steady walk.

The scene shifted, and they were both thousands of miles away. Undeterred, she quickly settled in the new operating room and, without a word, began fiddling the many devices there. With a shrug, he left to finish what he started.

As he placed the last contents of the box in their rightful place, he began hearing an unfamiliar voice a few rooms down from where he was.

The operating room.

The warning alarms in his head quickly died down when the voice abruptly cut, changing to another, then another, then another...

Calmly reaching the operating room, he leaned against the door frame and looked over the new recruit, now curled up and sighing at the turned on TV set.

"You set it all up?" He genuinely marvelled before adding. "You'd have to teach me the ropes."

He walked up to the English roll arm sofa she sat on and rested his elbows on top of the backrest by her right side. Even from this angle, he could see some uneasiness in her position.

“That’s awesome. I’ve never done that. My brother was always so worried something would happen to me.”

She chucks the throw pillow at him.

Raven blinks up at him owlishly.

Now, as a trained fighter able to dodge most hits and think fast, a pillow getting chucked at him shouldn't be any issue...

However, he was clearly too distracted to teleport, sitting upright, cross-legged, on a sofa arm and at an extremely close range from the aim of a lady who has spent the entire night doing the most unexpected things in his company...

Alright, that last part should have definitely made him keep his guard up around her, especially since he was openly bad-mouthing someone she was more than close to.

Even so, his most reliable source of balance in situations like these would have been his tail. Sadly, it was currently dangling off the floor right behind him after he had hidden it from said lady's sight following her initial fright.

In conclusion, Mystique landed a perfectly aimed shot, with her throw pillow, at his head... While he landed in a thud, off the sofa, on his head.

Letting not a single groan escape his lips, he quickly recovered by doing a backward roll then, once on his feet, taking the pillow and using it as a new seat. He tried to act as nonchalantly as possible by resting one of his elbows on the now free sofa arm, choosing to remain on ground level for the time being.

"If not even telepathy can make it easier to understand people..." He sighed as shaking his head was not an option for now, then looking up at her and adding sarcastically. "Between that brother and this mother, that's quite the pleasant company you were surrounded with."

There must have been some pain from this heartache in that throw for a pillow to hit as hard as it did... Not as much as what I feel right now, but still.

He found himself glancing momentarily at the TV set, where another coverage of the missile crisis was rolling.

So earlier... She must have been thinking this was the only way for them to ever see her again.

From her eyes to her tone and in her gestures, a glimpse of what the world has done to the woman in front of him.

The World declared war on her, and she will fight dirty to win every battle it threw at her.

"This is a vow for the ages." He mused. "One we rarely hear of nowadays."

He did hear something similar from their team leader not long ago... There was as much passion in it too.

"You already left your first mark on the World, one nobody can ignore or hide." His tail lazily motions to the TV set. "You have a greater head start than most."

Before this very moment, he had felt the final outcome of that day to be purely coincidental, but perhaps coincidences like these were what the World needed... And not everyone could push things to align this intriguingly.

"For the Governments of this world, there is one single motto any good soldier, any good lapdog, must follow : 'The very act of thought is defiance'. " He sounded as if he was recounting something.

"It doesn't matter if this was towards a direct given order or for any kind of non combat situation, anyone who doesn't abide by it is on the same level as whoever first began standing up against them." He announced simply. "Willingly becoming a deserter afterwards makes you a similar threat to them as our leader... It is the final Badge of Honour."

If it's been a long time coming, then she really knows how to make an exit.

"Better late than never." Leaving everything behind is never an easy decision, as there's no turning back. "We'll have to do without any gold or silver, so consider this round of drinks on me."

"I like to keep an open mind about all sorts of things." He began. "As such, I have the strongest drink of every type."

"Everclear stands on top of all and is yet to be challenged, but more flavourful choices are out there for the same kind of effects..." Even when drinking, tasting something without a flavour is a waste. "Your vow is a mighty and personal one, after all."

It's what makes it memorable.

"To quickly review tastier but just as potent picks, Austria's Inländer Rum could knock the most seasoned of sailors out and Stroh is the one that comes to mind for spiciness. For whiskeys, look no further than Scotch, some are fruity while others lean on smoky. Aragh sagi is Iranian moonshine tasting of raisins and dates with an extra floral aroma. Its strength..?" He considers his own question before answering, his tail tip moving from left to right like a metronome. "A real coin toss."

"What else... Oh right, this is a personal bottle I went as far as hiding away just in case." He spreads his arms slightly, sprinkling in some level of gravitas on his next announcement to her. "The Queen of Spirits, the Green Fairy herself."

He didn't think a beverage with that specific balance of strength, citrus and anise had been easily available in more than half a century, but she might be a traveller herself.

He rested his hands on his knees, seemingly done with his summary, then looked up at her again as she remained unmoving from her high position on the sofa.

I mean leaving him with a bullet in his back was a new low even for her.

Erik had told her to go settle in to the building they had captured and she turned on the tv to try to get her mind off things.

Of course the missile crisis was on every channel.

She sighs, pulling her knees up to her chest.

@the-realraven-darkholme

Another day, another job to attend to.

This time, it was some basic equipment relocation. 'Leave this to the mutant who can be at two places at once. What's the heavy lifting about it anyway?' Declared their new mighty leader who could lift everything, all at once, off the ground, with a simple flick of the wrist.

It was an approximation of what was said, of course, but the message was clear as day, even though it had all been decreed in the dead of night.

Still, it was a nice change of pace, especially after the last task he had been assigned to... Truthfully, fighting a blue bear in the sky was one of life's most unexpected throws at him, and he had been through much already.

On his last trip, he had been told to bring a passenger along with the remaining box: The newest recruit, Mystique, a woman with a resolved gaze and steady walk.

The scene shifted, and they were both thousands of miles away. Undeterred, she quickly settled in the new operating room and, without a word, began fiddling the many devices there. With a shrug, he left to finish what he started.

As he placed the last contents of the box in their rightful place, he began hearing an unfamiliar voice a few rooms down from where he was.

The operating room.

The warning alarms in his head quickly died down when the voice abruptly cut, changing to another, then another, then another...

Calmly reaching the operating room, he leaned against the door frame and looked over the new recruit, now curled up and sighing at the turned on TV set.

"You set it all up?" He genuinely marvelled before adding. "You'd have to teach me the ropes."

He walked up to the English roll arm sofa she sat on and rested his elbows on top of the backrest by her right side. Even from this angle, he could see some uneasiness in her position.

“That’s awesome. I’ve never done that. My brother was always so worried something would happen to me.”

She chucks the throw pillow at him.

Raven blinks up at him owlishly.

Now, as a trained fighter able to dodge most hits and think fast, a pillow getting chucked at him shouldn't be any issue...

However, he was clearly too distracted to teleport, sitting upright, cross-legged, on a sofa arm and at an extremely close range from the aim of a lady who has spent the entire night doing the most unexpected things in his company...

Alright, that last part should have definitely made him keep his guard up around her, especially since he was openly bad-mouthing someone she was more than close to.

Even so, his most reliable source of balance in situations like these would have been his tail. Sadly, it was currently dangling off the floor right behind him after he had hidden it from said lady's sight following her initial fright.

In conclusion, Mystique landed a perfectly aimed shot, with her throw pillow, at his head... While he landed in a thud, off the sofa, on his head.

Letting not a single groan escape his lips, he quickly recovered by doing a backward roll then, once on his feet, taking the pillow and using it as a new seat. He tried to act as nonchalantly as possible by resting one of his elbows on the now free sofa arm, choosing to remain on ground level for the time being.

"If not even telepathy can make it easier to understand people..." He sighed as shaking his head was not an option for now, then looking up at her and adding sarcastically. "Between that brother and this mother, that's quite the pleasant company you were surrounded with."

There must have been some pain from this heartache in that throw for a pillow to hit as hard as it did... Not as much as what I feel right now, but still.

He found himself glancing momentarily at the TV set, where another coverage of the missile crisis was rolling.

So earlier... She must have been thinking this was the only way for them to ever see her again.

From her eyes to her tone and in her gestures, a glimpse of what the world has done to the woman in front of him.

The World declared war on her, and she will fight dirty to win every battle it threw at her.

"This is a vow for the ages." He mused. "One we rarely hear of nowadays."

He did hear something similar from their team leader not long ago... There was as much passion in it too.

"You already left your first mark on the World, one nobody can ignore or hide." His tail lazily motions to the TV set. "You have a greater head start than most."

Before this very moment, he had felt the final outcome of that day to be purely coincidental, but perhaps coincidences like these were what the World needed... And not everyone could push things to align this intriguingly.

"For the Governments of this world, there is one single motto any good soldier, any good lapdog, must follow : 'The very act of thought is defiance'. " He sounded as if he was recounting something.

"It doesn't matter if this was towards a direct given order or for any kind of non combat situation, anyone who doesn't abide by it is on the same level as whoever first began standing up against them." He announced simply. "Willingly becoming a deserter afterwards makes you a similar threat to them as our leader... It is the final Badge of Honour."

If it's been a long time coming, then she really knows how to make an exit.

"Better late than never." Leaving everything behind is never an easy decision, as there's no turning back. "We'll have to do without any gold or silver, so consider this round of drinks on me."

What do you really need right now?

What are some of the things that have made you who you are?

What are some of your pet peeves?

Share a dark thought? (Go on, vent a little)

Something that makes you ridiculously happy?

What are you craving?

Song stuck in your head?

Last thing you watched?

Shows on your watch list?

Books on your reading list?

Something on your wish list?

Something you want to monologue about?

If you were a note, what note would you be?

Tactician, fighter, generalist, or supportive role?

Talk about a stuffie.

They say you can tell a lot about a person from the state of their desk... Do you have a desk? Can you describe it?

Space, enchanted forest, magical kingdom, or underwater city?

What are some of the meanings of your name? (Or url if you don't want to say.)

What fictional doctor do you wish was your doctor?

Are you a gamer? What was the last game you played?

How do you take your pizza?

Strangest thing that has happened to you this week?

Share a bit of philosophy?

Do you follow the news?

What's on your mind?

What is your dream mode of transportation?

What fascinates you about humanity?

What about life makes you smile?

A dream you wish to make true?

What is your favourite way to create?

I mean leaving him with a bullet in his back was a new low even for her.

Erik had told her to go settle in to the building they had captured and she turned on the tv to try to get her mind off things.

Of course the missile crisis was on every channel.

She sighs, pulling her knees up to her chest.

@the-realraven-darkholme

Another day, another job to attend to.

This time, it was some basic equipment relocation. 'Leave this to the mutant who can be at two places at once. What's the heavy lifting about it anyway?' Declared their new mighty leader who could lift everything, all at once, off the ground, with a simple flick of the wrist.

It was an approximation of what was said, of course, but the message was clear as day, even though it had all been decreed in the dead of night.

Still, it was a nice change of pace, especially after the last task he had been assigned to... Truthfully, fighting a blue bear in the sky was one of life's most unexpected throws at him, and he had been through much already.

On his last trip, he had been told to bring a passenger along with the remaining box: The newest recruit, Mystique, a woman with a resolved gaze and steady walk.

The scene shifted, and they were both thousands of miles away. Undeterred, she quickly settled in the new operating room and, without a word, began fiddling the many devices there. With a shrug, he left to finish what he started.

As he placed the last contents of the box in their rightful place, he began hearing an unfamiliar voice a few rooms down from where he was.

The operating room.

The warning alarms in his head quickly died down when the voice abruptly cut, changing to another, then another, then another...

Calmly reaching the operating room, he leaned against the door frame and looked over the new recruit, now curled up and sighing at the turned on TV set.

"You set it all up?" He genuinely marvelled before adding. "You'd have to teach me the ropes."

He walked up to the English roll arm sofa she sat on and rested his elbows on top of the backrest by her right side. Even from this angle, he could see some uneasiness in her position.

“That’s awesome. I’ve never done that. My brother was always so worried something would happen to me.”

She chucks the throw pillow at him.

Raven blinks up at him owlishly.

Now, as a trained fighter able to dodge most hits and think fast, a pillow getting chucked at him shouldn't be any issue...

However, he was clearly too distracted to teleport, sitting upright, cross-legged, on a sofa arm and at an extremely close range from the aim of a lady who has spent the entire night doing the most unexpected things in his company...

Alright, that last part should have definitely made him keep his guard up around her, especially since he was openly bad-mouthing someone she was more than close to.

Even so, his most reliable source of balance in situations like these would have been his tail. Sadly, it was currently dangling off the floor right behind him after he had hidden it from said lady's sight following her initial fright.

In conclusion, Mystique landed a perfectly aimed shot, with her throw pillow, at his head... While he landed in a thud, off the sofa, on his head.

Letting not a single groan escape his lips, he quickly recovered by doing a backward roll then, once on his feet, taking the pillow and using it as a new seat. He tried to act as nonchalantly as possible by resting one of his elbows on the now free sofa arm, choosing to remain on ground level for the time being.

"If not even telepathy can make it easier to understand people..." He sighed as shaking his head was not an option for now, then looking up at her and adding sarcastically. "Between that brother and this mother, that's quite the pleasant company you were surrounded with."

There must have been some pain from this heartache in that throw for a pillow to hit as hard as it did... Not as much as what I feel right now, but still.

He found himself glancing momentarily at the TV set, where another coverage of the missile crisis was rolling.

So earlier... She must have been thinking this was the only way for them to ever see her again.

From her eyes to her tone and in her gestures, a glimpse of what the world has done to the woman in front of him.

The World declared war on her, and she will fight dirty to win every battle it threw at her.

"This is a vow for the ages." He mused. "One we rarely hear of nowadays."

He did hear something similar from their team leader not long ago... There was as much passion in it too.

"You already left your first mark on the World, one nobody can ignore or hide." His tail lazily motions to the TV set. "You have a greater head start than most."

Before this very moment, he had felt the final outcome of that day to be purely coincidental, but perhaps coincidences like these were what the World needed... And not everyone could push things to align this intriguingly.

pronouns and context can be changed as you see fit.

When was the last time you actually got some rest?

Alright, that's it. You're going to bed, and I'm not taking no for an answer.

Look at you! You're spilling coffee.

You have bags, and I'm not talking about the Gucci kind.

Jesus, have you been awake the entire night?

It's 4am. You need sleep.

You're safe here. You can rest now.

I promise, I'm fine. I just look tired a lot, thanks to... the tiredness.

Look, I'm okay! I've pulled all nighters before.

This isn't the first time I've gone without sleep.

I'll carry you to bed if I have to.

Do I need to baby you?

Huh? What? I'm awake, I swear!

You just ran into the wall. It's time to lie down.

Go. To. Bed. That's an order.

I made a nest for you. You can sleep in that, if you want.

Can I get an extra pillow / blanket?

Want me to tuck you in, too?

1. 3 things you wish for

2. 3 movies you have rewatched many times

3. 3 songs that mean something to you

4. 3 topics you’d love to learn more about

5. 3 colors to paint your room

6. 3 characters that inspire you

7. 3 fruits that you love the most

8. 3 tv shows that you never get bored of

9. 3 things you like doing on a rainy day

10. 3 things you like eating with coffee

11. 3 books that you would recommend everyone to read

12. 3 apps you use the most

13. 3 classes you used to hate in middle school

14. 3 professions that you would like to try

15. 3 quotes that have a special place in your life

16. 3 drinks you consume the most

17. 3 tv couples you adore the most

18. 3 dream jobs you’ve had in your childhood

19. 3 animals you’d love to take care of in your house

20. 3 adjectives that you’d use to describe yourself

21. 3 things you are the most passionate about

22. 3 movies/books/tv shows that made you cry

23. 3 songs you listen to while cleaning

24. 3 places that makes you feel peaceful

25. 3 people you’d never get tired of

26. 3 countries you’d love to visit

27. 3 things you wish you did more often

28. 3 things you love cooking/baking

29. 3 characteristics of the person you aspire to be

30. 3 moments you could never forget

31. 3 types of flowers you love the most

32. 3 months you enjoy the most

33. 3 scented candles that you love the most

34. 3 people in history that inspire you the most

35. 3 vegetables that you like the taste of

36. 3 ways of traveling that you enjoy the most

do they drive? if so, do they enjoy driving or do they hate it? or somewhere in between?

if they drive, where is their favorite location to drive to?

if they drive, do they own a vehicle? if so, what make and model?

what bumper stickers do they have on their car?

what paintings and/or posters are on their walls?

what is a song they listen to with the windows rolled down, turned all the way up, on the highway?

is there an artform they've always wanted to try (glassblowing, woodworking, painting, ect) but never have? if so, what about that artform speaks to them?

what time of day do they usually start getting sleepy?

do they catch a second wind? if so, what is their method for catching it (napping, drinking coffee, exercising, ect)?

are they a nap person? if so, how long are their naps? do they set a 20 minute timer and wake up before it? or set no timer and wake up in the middle of the night?

what is the most obscure book they've read?

what is a book that interested them so much they took it with them to the bathroom?

what did the air smell like during their childhood?

what is a core memory from their childhood that they look back on fondly and for comfort?

when was the last time they were held, and truly held, for several minutes? who was it with?

do they meditate? if not, have they ever tried? how did it go?

how many pennies and quarters do they have in their couch?

how dusty is their home? spotless, lived-in, dust bunny haven?

what is their favorite chocolate bar?

do they like their brownies fudgy or cakey? or not at all, and only want the crusts?

whats that one weird food combination that everyone else thinks is gross but they think is delicious?

where do they put their shoes when they come home from a long day?

after a vacation, do they immediately unpack or slowly retrieve items from their suitcase until its empty?

how often do they do self-reflection?

are they more afraid of being alone with themselves or with others?

have they ever had a near death experience? if so, what was it?

out of all the subjects in school, which was their favorite? which one did they excel at?

how many alarms do they have set on their phone? what is their alarm ringtone?

do they fart in front of other people? or do they hide their farts?

do they have to see any specialist doctors? if so, do they have a strong bond with their doctor or do they dislike them?

what is their favorite seasoning?

what is their favorite sauce?

how spicy is spicy for them? (pepper, jalepeno, ghost pepper, ect)

how long do they let the dishes go unwashed?

how much laundry do they accumulate before doing it?

Azazel comes home to the sight of his barely 21 year old son hanging from the stairs by his tail, looking hung over and exhausted, and the remnants of what could only be assumed to have once been a party Kurt wasn't supposed to be throwing. The speakers are still going but have long since blown out and the flashing multicolored lights have died out, indicating the party had started a while ago and simply hadn't stopped until Azazel was due back from his trip. Unfortunately for Kurt it would seem he had not enhereted his father's intelligence, only his mutation

The sun was rising gracefully on the beach as the gentle waves lapped the shore. The whole scene was so calm and inviting on the side he was facing, that this path could only lead him to a great new morning...

Unfortunately, his house was in the opposite direction from this almost magical view... That meant his morning wasn't going to go so well.

The first thing that should have alerted him to the 'situation' was the fact that he could see holes in the walls of their house from more than 20 paces away.

A trail of passed out Blue Bamfs, surrounded by candy wrappers, led him to the epicentre of the chaos. His Red ones, who had been travelling with him, tried to shake some of them awake but to no avail : All they managed to get out of them were a few mutterings that could be translated as "No more taxi rides out of the party".

That made him frown.

'So much for a relaxing walk on the beach.'

As he crossed the unusual trail to the entrance of his house, a dozen or so footprints of varying sizes in the sand gave him a hint of what had happened, but what they could not do was prepare him for what lay behind the door...

His eyes found it hard to focus on just one thing.

The Red Bamfs who accompanied him inside found themselves in a similar situation : Those who weren't all wide-eyed and aghast at the sight before them scattered to assess the damage. A few Red Bamfs mechanically unplugged the speakers, their eyes never leaving the scene that welcomed them home.

Finally, Azazel's eyes focused on something or rather someone. Hanging upside down from the stairs by his tail like a damson plum, just as passed out as his little counterparts outside.

Azazel was impressed. In the worst possible way.

He kicked the soft mattress off the divan and landed it right under his son. This startled his Bamfs and brought them back to the present. He gestured for them to hold the half-discarded hammock on the floor a few feet above the mattress, which they managed by holding onto to some furniture.

"How much property damage do you see around you ?" He said as he gestured to all the chaos on the first floor alone.

"How many new holes do you count on the house ?" At this, a Red Bamf slowly but surely poked its head over a hole located on the ceiling.

"How much planning went into this party you threw behind my back ?" His voice began betraying his frustration.

"How many bottles did you empty on your own ?" He could smell his son's breath from where he was ; the answer wasn't going to please him in the slightest.

"How many people did you bring into a place that was supposed to stay secret ?" Their home was theirs for this long because little to no one knew it even existed.

Azazel turned his back to avert his eyes from the sight of him staggering, his elbows still resting on the railing, and looked up at the sky through the hole in their ceiling.

He felt himself sigh.

"There will always be people who collect souvenirs of their wild nights, and tropical islands are a perfect backdrop for group pictures." He noted, his tone stern.

"Adults tend to care less about what other adults think of them : Teenagers are the ones with the level of self-consciousness to worry about these matters... It's something they lose as they get older." He explained rather matter-of-factly.

'He's probably the only reason I'm considering the best-case scenario so quickly.'

"For one, our home will remain secret, but it will need extensive repairs." He makes some circular motions with his right hand, his index finger sticking out. "They may not be finished in time for the next storm... This means we'd have to relocate temporarily."

The ship was their safest option for a place to live while they stayed under the radar if a tropical storm caught them here without warning.

"A home inventory should be done in case anything is broken or stolen." He glanced at the far end of the hallway on their first floor at a door that still seemed closed. "Parties of this size are prone to petty vandalism and easy theft when the host isn't 'around' to keep an eye on such things."

While the two of them had never had any trouble getting what they needed and most of it could be repaired or replaced if necessary, some things were simply unique in the value they carried.

"The island needs a top-to-bottom search for trash, lost belongings and any unusual items that shouldn't be there in the first place." While he doesn't doubt that his son's Bamfs did their part as 'taxis' out of this geographically remote party, it would be quite a scare if a party-goer was missed and left wondering for days.

Speaking of which, the group of Red Bamfs who had stayed outside until now teleported in with either a passed out Blue Bamf on their back or as many candy wrappers as they could carry from where they found them on the beach. Some of them were soaking wet, indicating that they had collected the wrappers directly from the ocean.

The condition of the house almost caused his Bamfs to drop the Blue ones they were carrying while those holding candy wrappers unconsciously let them slip from their hands and fall to the floor in shock.

"Failing to manage your party was your first mistake." He turns to face him again, watching him work from the top of the stairs. "The result is a lot of material damage. Work and effort can fix that."

With the help of the blue Bamfs, Kurt shouldn't take more than a month... If they still have any will to lend a hand that is.

"Excessive drinking was your second mistake." He knew, sadly, how much it took to put Kurt in the state he found him in when he first entered the house, on the account of the smell. "The result is a lot of physical damage. Time and self-care will heal you."

After a party like this, there may not even be enough food in their pantry to make a light breakfast and help Kurt's hangover. Judging by the candy wrappers, they had dipped into Kurt's rightful spoils from last Halloween, which were further back in the larder than their average sweets and snacks. The fridge was unlikely to have been spared...

Speaking of Kurt's friends, Azazel didn't hear any noise in the house except for the cleaning his son had started, which means the Bamfs were meticulous about their last order before passing out. But still...

"Good riddance to them." He finally said. "You're right, you need new friends; ones who won't keep you from doing the sensible thing."

They had to be the ones who had pushed Kurt to do all of this against his better judgement : Azazel was far from a good influence on anyone, but he always tried to be on his best behaviour when raising his son, so this couldn't be the culmination of his own actions...

Still, Kurt had known them for quite some time. He had cared about them and hoped that the same could be said for what they thought of him. Knowing him, the muttering came from shame, sure, but also hurt and disappointment.

He watched him walk back and forth between the main room and the kitchen where the trash bags were. He didn't dare think about what the other rooms looked like but for the sake of keeping their conversation going, it was best to rip the bandage off now of his own free will...

Besides, if he had to go in there later, being completely surprised by the sight would make his mood sourer than a rhubarb stem. He 'sensed' the new layout of their kitchen then pinpointed a safe spot. For good measure, he took off this suit jacket, folded it neatly and then teleported to the top of their fridge, using the folded fabric as a cushion for his new seat.

'The benefits of high ceilings.'

He had a good view of the whole room from his position... His son had a lot of work to do here too. But back to their conversation.

"Knowing your unbridled magnetism and charisma, you'll find them in no time while your now better judgement will make you choose them right." He reassured him as he added.

Azazel comes home to the sight of his barely 21 year old son hanging from the stairs by his tail, looking hung over and exhausted, and the remnants of what could only be assumed to have once been a party Kurt wasn't supposed to be throwing. The speakers are still going but have long since blown out and the flashing multicolored lights have died out, indicating the party had started a while ago and simply hadn't stopped until Azazel was due back from his trip. Unfortunately for Kurt it would seem he had not enhereted his father's intelligence, only his mutation

The sun was rising gracefully on the beach as the gentle waves lapped the shore. The whole scene was so calm and inviting on the side he was facing, that this path could only lead him to a great new morning...

Unfortunately, his house was in the opposite direction from this almost magical view... That meant his morning wasn't going to go so well.

The first thing that should have alerted him to the 'situation' was the fact that he could see holes in the walls of their house from more than 20 paces away.

A trail of passed out Blue Bamfs, surrounded by candy wrappers, led him to the epicentre of the chaos. His Red ones, who had been travelling with him, tried to shake some of them awake but to no avail : All they managed to get out of them were a few mutterings that could be translated as "No more taxi rides out of the party".

That made him frown.

'So much for a relaxing walk on the beach.'

As he crossed the unusual trail to the entrance of his house, a dozen or so footprints of varying sizes in the sand gave him a hint of what had happened, but what they could not do was prepare him for what lay behind the door...

His eyes found it hard to focus on just one thing.

The Red Bamfs who accompanied him inside found themselves in a similar situation : Those who weren't all wide-eyed and aghast at the sight before them scattered to assess the damage. A few Red Bamfs mechanically unplugged the speakers, their eyes never leaving the scene that welcomed them home.

Finally, Azazel's eyes focused on something or rather someone. Hanging upside down from the stairs by his tail like a damson plum, just as passed out as his little counterparts outside.

Azazel was impressed. In the worst possible way.

He kicked the soft mattress off the divan and landed it right under his son. This startled his Bamfs and brought them back to the present. He gestured for them to hold the half-discarded hammock on the floor a few feet above the mattress, which they managed by holding onto to some furniture.

"How much property damage do you see around you ?" He said as he gestured to all the chaos on the first floor alone.

"How many new holes do you count on the house ?" At this, a Red Bamf slowly but surely poked its head over a hole located on the ceiling.

"How much planning went into this party you threw behind my back ?" His voice began betraying his frustration.

"How many bottles did you empty on your own ?" He could smell his son's breath from where he was ; the answer wasn't going to please him in the slightest.

"How many people did you bring into a place that was supposed to stay secret ?" Their home was theirs for this long because little to no one knew it even existed.

Azazel turned his back to avert his eyes from the sight of him staggering, his elbows still resting on the railing, and looked up at the sky through the hole in their ceiling.

He felt himself sigh.

"There will always be people who collect souvenirs of their wild nights, and tropical islands are a perfect backdrop for group pictures." He noted, his tone stern.

"Adults tend to care less about what other adults think of them : Teenagers are the ones with the level of self-consciousness to worry about these matters... It's something they lose as they get older." He explained rather matter-of-factly.

'He's probably the only reason I'm considering the best-case scenario so quickly.'

"For one, our home will remain secret, but it will need extensive repairs." He makes some circular motions with his right hand, his index finger sticking out. "They may not be finished in time for the next storm... This means we'd have to relocate temporarily."

The ship was their safest option for a place to live while they stayed under the radar if a tropical storm caught them here without warning.

"A home inventory should be done in case anything is broken or stolen." He glanced at the far end of the hallway on their first floor at a door that still seemed closed. "Parties of this size are prone to petty vandalism and easy theft when the host isn't 'around' to keep an eye on such things."

While the two of them had never had any trouble getting what they needed and most of it could be repaired or replaced if necessary, some things were simply unique in the value they carried.

"The island needs a top-to-bottom search for trash, lost belongings and any unusual items that shouldn't be there in the first place." While he doesn't doubt that his son's Bamfs did their part as 'taxis' out of this geographically remote party, it would be quite a scare if a party-goer was missed and left wondering for days.

Speaking of which, the group of Red Bamfs who had stayed outside until now teleported in with either a passed out Blue Bamf on their back or as many candy wrappers as they could carry from where they found them on the beach. Some of them were soaking wet, indicating that they had collected the wrappers directly from the ocean.

The condition of the house almost caused his Bamfs to drop the Blue ones they were carrying while those holding candy wrappers unconsciously let them slip from their hands and fall to the floor in shock.

"Failing to manage your party was your first mistake." He turns to face him again, watching him work from the top of the stairs. "The result is a lot of material damage. Work and effort can fix that."

With the help of the blue Bamfs, Kurt shouldn't take more than a month... If they still have any will to lend a hand that is.

"Excessive drinking was your second mistake." He knew, sadly, how much it took to put Kurt in the state he found him in when he first entered the house, on the account of the smell. "The result is a lot of physical damage. Time and self-care will heal you."

After a party like this, there may not even be enough food in their pantry to make a light breakfast and help Kurt's hangover. Judging by the candy wrappers, they had dipped into Kurt's rightful spoils from last Halloween, which were further back in the larder than their average sweets and snacks. The fridge was unlikely to have been spared...

Speaking of Kurt's friends, Azazel didn't hear any noise in the house except for the cleaning his son had started, which means the Bamfs were meticulous about their last order before passing out. But still...

Azazel comes home to the sight of his barely 21 year old son hanging from the stairs by his tail, looking hung over and exhausted, and the remnants of what could only be assumed to have once been a party Kurt wasn't supposed to be throwing. The speakers are still going but have long since blown out and the flashing multicolored lights have died out, indicating the party had started a while ago and simply hadn't stopped until Azazel was due back from his trip. Unfortunately for Kurt it would seem he had not enhereted his father's intelligence, only his mutation

The sun was rising gracefully on the beach as the gentle waves lapped the shore. The whole scene was so calm and inviting on the side he was facing, that this path could only lead him to a great new morning...

Unfortunately, his house was in the opposite direction from this almost magical view... That meant his morning wasn't going to go so well.

The first thing that should have alerted him to the 'situation' was the fact that he could see holes in the walls of their house from more than 20 paces away.

A trail of passed out Blue Bamfs, surrounded by candy wrappers, led him to the epicentre of the chaos. His Red ones, who had been travelling with him, tried to shake some of them awake but to no avail : All they managed to get out of them were a few mutterings that could be translated as "No more taxi rides out of the party".

That made him frown.

'So much for a relaxing walk on the beach.'

As he crossed the unusual trail to the entrance of his house, a dozen or so footprints of varying sizes in the sand gave him a hint of what had happened, but what they could not do was prepare him for what lay behind the door...

His eyes found it hard to focus on just one thing.

The Red Bamfs who accompanied him inside found themselves in a similar situation : Those who weren't all wide-eyed and aghast at the sight before them scattered to assess the damage. A few Red Bamfs mechanically unplugged the speakers, their eyes never leaving the scene that welcomed them home.

Finally, Azazel's eyes focused on something or rather someone. Hanging upside down from the stairs by his tail like a damson plum, just as passed out as his little counterparts outside.

Azazel was impressed. In the worst possible way.

He kicked the soft mattress off the divan and landed it right under his son. This startled his Bamfs and brought them back to the present. He gestured for them to hold the half-discarded hammock on the floor a few feet above the mattress, which they managed by holding onto to some furniture.

"How much property damage do you see around you ?" He said as he gestured to all the chaos on the first floor alone.

"How many new holes do you count on the house ?" At this, a Red Bamf slowly but surely poked its head over a hole located on the ceiling.

"How much planning went into this party you threw behind my back ?" His voice began betraying his frustration.

"How many bottles did you empty on your own ?" He could smell his son's breath from where he was ; the answer wasn't going to please him in the slightest.

"How many people did you bring into a place that was supposed to stay secret ?" Their home was theirs for this long because little to no one knew it even existed.

Azazel turned his back to avert his eyes from the sight of him staggering, his elbows still resting on the railing, and looked up at the sky through the hole in their ceiling.

He felt himself sigh.

"There will always be people who collect souvenirs of their wild nights, and tropical islands are a perfect backdrop for group pictures." He noted, his tone stern.

"Adults tend to care less about what other adults think of them : Teenagers are the ones with the level of self-consciousness to worry about these matters... It's something they lose as they get older." He explained rather matter-of-factly.

'He's probably the only reason I'm considering the best-case scenario so quickly.'

"For one, our home will remain secret, but it will need extensive repairs." He makes some circular motions with his right hand, his index finger sticking out. "They may not be finished in time for the next storm... This means we'd have to relocate temporarily."

The ship was their safest option for a place to live while they stayed under the radar if a tropical storm caught them here without warning.

"A home inventory should be done in case anything is broken or stolen." He glanced at the far end of the hallway on their first floor at a door that still seemed closed. "Parties of this size are prone to petty vandalism and easy theft when the host isn't 'around' to keep an eye on such things."

While the two of them had never had any trouble getting what they needed and most of it could be repaired or replaced if necessary, some things were simply unique in the value they carried.

"The island needs a top-to-bottom search for trash, lost belongings and any unusual items that shouldn't be there in the first place." While he doesn't doubt that his son's Bamfs did their part as 'taxis' out of this geographically remote party, it would be quite a scare if a party-goer was missed and left wondering for days.

Speaking of which, the group of Red Bamfs who had stayed outside until now teleported in with either a passed out Blue Bamf on their back or as many candy wrappers as they could carry from where they found them on the beach. Some of them were soaking wet, indicating that they had collected the wrappers directly from the ocean.

The condition of the house almost caused his Bamfs to drop the Blue ones they were carrying while those holding candy wrappers unconsciously let them slip from their hands and fall to the floor in shock.

"Failing to manage your party was your first mistake." He turns to face him again, watching him work from the top of the stairs. "The result is a lot of material damage. Work and effort can fix that."

With the help of the blue Bamfs, Kurt shouldn't take more than a month... If they still have any will to lend a hand that is.

"Excessive drinking was your second mistake." He knew, sadly, how much it took to put Kurt in the state he found him in when he first entered the house, on the account of the smell. "The result is a lot of physical damage. Time and self-care will heal you."

After a party like this, there may not even be enough food in their pantry to make a light breakfast and help Kurt's hangover. Judging by the candy wrappers, they had dipped into Kurt's rightful spoils from last Halloween, which were further back in the larder than their average sweets and snacks. The fridge was unlikely to have been spared...

Azazel comes home to the sight of his barely 21 year old son hanging from the stairs by his tail, looking hung over and exhausted, and the remnants of what could only be assumed to have once been a party Kurt wasn't supposed to be throwing. The speakers are still going but have long since blown out and the flashing multicolored lights have died out, indicating the party had started a while ago and simply hadn't stopped until Azazel was due back from his trip. Unfortunately for Kurt it would seem he had not enhereted his father's intelligence, only his mutation

The sun was rising gracefully on the beach as the gentle waves lapped the shore. The whole scene was so calm and inviting on the side he was facing, that this path could only lead him to a great new morning...

Unfortunately, his house was in the opposite direction from this almost magical view... That meant his morning wasn't going to go so well.

The first thing that should have alerted him to the 'situation' was the fact that he could see holes in the walls of their house from more than 20 paces away.

A trail of passed out Blue Bamfs, surrounded by candy wrappers, led him to the epicentre of the chaos. His Red ones, who had been travelling with him, tried to shake some of them awake but to no avail : All they managed to get out of them were a few mutterings that could be translated as "No more taxi rides out of the party".

That made him frown.

'So much for a relaxing walk on the beach.'

As he crossed the unusual trail to the entrance of his house, a dozen or so footprints of varying sizes in the sand gave him a hint of what had happened, but what they could not do was prepare him for what lay behind the door...

His eyes found it hard to focus on just one thing.

The Red Bamfs who accompanied him inside found themselves in a similar situation : Those who weren't all wide-eyed and aghast at the sight before them scattered to assess the damage. A few Red Bamfs mechanically unplugged the speakers, their eyes never leaving the scene that welcomed them home.

Finally, Azazel's eyes focused on something or rather someone. Hanging upside down from the stairs by his tail like a damson plum, just as passed out as his little counterparts outside.

Azazel was impressed. In the worst possible way.

He kicked the soft mattress off the divan and landed it right under his son. This startled his Bamfs and brought them back to the present. He gestured for them to hold the half-discarded hammock on the floor a few feet above the mattress, which they managed by holding onto to some furniture.

"How much property damage do you see around you ?" He said as he gestured to all the chaos on the first floor alone.

"How many new holes do you count on the house ?" At this, a Red Bamf slowly but surely poked its head over a hole located on the ceiling.

"How much planning went into this party you threw behind my back ?" His voice began betraying his frustration.

"How many bottles did you empty on your own ?" He could smell his son's breath from where he was ; the answer wasn't going to please him in the slightest.

"How many people did you bring into a place that was supposed to stay secret ?" Their home was theirs for this long because little to no one knew it even existed.

Azazel turned his back to avert his eyes from the sight of him staggering, his elbows still resting on the railing, and looked up at the sky through the hole in their ceiling.

He felt himself sigh.

"There will always be people who collect souvenirs of their wild nights, and tropical islands are a perfect backdrop for group pictures." He noted, his tone stern.

"Adults tend to care less about what other adults think of them : Teenagers are the ones with the level of self-consciousness to worry about these matters... It's something they lose as they get older." He explained rather matter-of-factly.

'He's probably the only reason I'm considering the best-case scenario so quickly.'

"For one, our home will remain secret, but it will need extensive repairs." He makes some circular motions with his right hand, his index finger sticking out. "They may not be finished in time for the next storm... This means we'd have to relocate temporarily."

The ship was their safest option for a place to live while they stayed under the radar if a tropical storm caught them here without warning.

"A home inventory should be done in case anything is broken or stolen." He glanced at the far end of the hallway on their first floor at a door that still seemed closed. "Parties of this size are prone to petty vandalism and easy theft when the host isn't 'around' to keep an eye on such things."

While the two of them had never had any trouble getting what they needed and most of it could be repaired or replaced if necessary, some things were simply unique in the value they carried.

"The island needs a top-to-bottom search for trash, lost belongings and any unusual items that shouldn't be there in the first place." While he doesn't doubt that his son's Bamfs did their part as 'taxis' out of this geographically remote party, it would be quite a scare if a party-goer was missed and left wondering for days.

Speaking of which, the group of Red Bamfs who had stayed outside until now teleported in with either a passed out Blue Bamf on their back or as many candy wrappers as they could carry from where they found them on the beach. Some of them were soaking wet, indicating that they had collected the wrappers directly from the ocean.

The condition of the house almost caused his Bamfs to drop the Blue ones they were carrying while those holding candy wrappers unconsciously let them slip from their hands and fall to the floor in shock.

Azazel comes home to the sight of his barely 21 year old son hanging from the stairs by his tail, looking hung over and exhausted, and the remnants of what could only be assumed to have once been a party Kurt wasn't supposed to be throwing. The speakers are still going but have long since blown out and the flashing multicolored lights have died out, indicating the party had started a while ago and simply hadn't stopped until Azazel was due back from his trip. Unfortunately for Kurt it would seem he had not enhereted his father's intelligence, only his mutation

The sun was rising gracefully on the beach as the gentle waves lapped the shore. The whole scene was so calm and inviting on the side he was facing, that this path could only lead him to a great new morning...

Unfortunately, his house was in the opposite direction from this almost magical view... That meant his morning wasn't going to go so well.

The first thing that should have alerted him to the 'situation' was the fact that he could see holes in the walls of their house from more than 20 paces away.

A trail of passed out Blue Bamfs, surrounded by candy wrappers, led him to the epicentre of the chaos. His Red ones, who had been travelling with him, tried to shake some of them awake but to no avail : All they managed to get out of them were a few mutterings that could be translated as "No more taxi rides out of the party".

That made him frown.

'So much for a relaxing walk on the beach.'

As he crossed the unusual trail to the entrance of his house, a dozen or so footprints of varying sizes in the sand gave him a hint of what had happened, but what they could not do was prepare him for what lay behind the door...

His eyes found it hard to focus on just one thing.

The Red Bamfs who accompanied him inside found themselves in a similar situation : Those who weren't all wide-eyed and aghast at the sight before them scattered to assess the damage. A few Red Bamfs mechanically unplugged the speakers, their eyes never leaving the scene that welcomed them home.

Finally, Azazel's eyes focused on something or rather someone. Hanging upside down from the stairs by his tail like a damson plum, just as passed out as his little counterparts outside.

Azazel was impressed. In the worst possible way.

He kicked the soft mattress off the divan and landed it right under his son. This startled his Bamfs and brought them back to the present. He gestured for them to hold the half-discarded hammock on the floor a few feet above the mattress, which they managed by holding onto to some furniture.

"How much property damage do you see around you ?" He said as he gestured to all the chaos on the first floor alone.

"How many new holes do you count on the house ?" At this, a Red Bamf slowly but surely poked its head over a hole located on the ceiling.

"How much planning went into this party you threw behind my back ?" His voice began betraying his frustration.

"How many bottles did you empty on your own ?" He could smell his son's breath from where he was ; the answer wasn't going to please him in the slightest.

"How many people did you bring into a place that was supposed to stay secret ?" Their home was theirs for this long because little to no one knew it even existed.

Azazel turned his back to avert his eyes from the sight of him staggering, his elbows still resting on the railing, and looked up at the sky through the hole in their ceiling.

He felt himself sigh.

"There will always be people who collect souvenirs of their wild nights, and tropical islands are a perfect backdrop for group pictures." He noted, his tone stern.

"Adults tend to care less about what other adults think of them : Teenagers are the ones with the level of self-consciousness to worry about these matters... It's something they lose as they get older." He explained rather matter-of-factly.

Azazel comes home to the sight of his barely 21 year old son hanging from the stairs by his tail, looking hung over and exhausted, and the remnants of what could only be assumed to have once been a party Kurt wasn't supposed to be throwing. The speakers are still going but have long since blown out and the flashing multicolored lights have died out, indicating the party had started a while ago and simply hadn't stopped until Azazel was due back from his trip. Unfortunately for Kurt it would seem he had not enhereted his father's intelligence, only his mutation

The sun was rising gracefully on the beach as the gentle waves lapped the shore. The whole scene was so calm and inviting on the side he was facing, that this path could only lead him to a great new morning...

Unfortunately, his house was in the opposite direction from this almost magical view... That meant his morning wasn't going to go so well.

The first thing that should have alerted him to the 'situation' was the fact that he could see holes in the walls of their house from more than 20 paces away.

A trail of passed out Blue Bamfs, surrounded by candy wrappers, led him to the epicentre of the chaos. His Red ones, who had been travelling with him, tried to shake some of them awake but to no avail : All they managed to get out of them were a few mutterings that could be translated as "No more taxi rides out of the party".

That made him frown.

'So much for a relaxing walk on the beach.'

As he crossed the unusual trail to the entrance of his house, a dozen or so footprints of varying sizes in the sand gave him a hint of what had happened, but what they could not do was prepare him for what lay behind the door...

His eyes found it hard to focus on just one thing.

The Red Bamfs who accompanied him inside found themselves in a similar situation : Those who weren't all wide-eyed and aghast at the sight before them scattered to assess the damage. A few Red Bamfs mechanically unplugged the speakers, their eyes never leaving the scene that welcomed them home.

Finally, Azazel's eyes focused on something or rather someone. Hanging upside down from the stairs by his tail like a damson plum, just as passed out as his little counterparts outside.

Azazel was impressed. In the worst possible way.

He kicked the soft mattress off the divan and landed it right under his son. This startled his Bamfs and brought them back to the present. He gestured for them to hold the half-discarded hammock on the floor a few feet above the mattress, which they managed by holding onto to some furniture.

"How much property damage do you see around you ?" He said as he gestured to all the chaos on the first floor alone.

"How many new holes do you count on the house ?" At this, a Red Bamf slowly but surely poked its head over a hole located on the ceiling.

"How much planning went into this party you threw behind my back ?" His voice began betraying his frustration.

"How many bottles did you empty on your own ?" He could smell his son's breath from where he was ; the answer wasn't going to please him in the slightest.

"How many people did you bring into a place that was supposed to stay secret ?" Their home was theirs for this long because little to no one knew it even existed.

Azazel turned his back to avert his eyes from the sight of him staggering, his elbows still resting on the railing, and looked up at the sky through the hole in their ceiling.

He felt himself sigh.

Azazel comes home to the sight of his barely 21 year old son hanging from the stairs by his tail, looking hung over and exhausted, and the remnants of what could only be assumed to have once been a party Kurt wasn't supposed to be throwing. The speakers are still going but have long since blown out and the flashing multicolored lights have died out, indicating the party had started a while ago and simply hadn't stopped until Azazel was due back from his trip. Unfortunately for Kurt it would seem he had not enhereted his father's intelligence, only his mutation

The sun was rising gracefully on the beach as the gentle waves lapped the shore. The whole scene was so calm and inviting on the side he was facing, that this path could only lead him to a great new morning...

Unfortunately, his house was in the opposite direction from this almost magical view... That meant his morning wasn't going to go so well.

The first thing that should have alerted him to the 'situation' was the fact that he could see holes in the walls of their house from more than 20 paces away.

A trail of passed out Blue Bamfs, surrounded by candy wrappers, led him to the epicentre of the chaos. His Red ones, who had been travelling with him, tried to shake some of them awake but to no avail : All they managed to get out of them were a few mutterings that could be translated as "No more taxi rides out of the party".

That made him frown.

'So much for a relaxing walk on the beach.'

As he crossed the unusual trail to the entrance of his house, a dozen or so footprints of varying sizes in the sand gave him a hint of what had happened, but what they could not do was prepare him for what lay behind the door...

His eyes found it hard to focus on just one thing.

The Red Bamfs who accompanied him inside found themselves in a similar situation : Those who weren't all wide-eyed and aghast at the sight before them scattered to assess the damage. A few Red Bamfs mechanically unplugged the speakers, their eyes never leaving the scene that welcomed them home.

Finally, Azazel's eyes focused on something or rather someone. Hanging upside down from the stairs by his tail like a damson plum, just as passed out as his little counterparts outside.

Azazel was impressed. In the worst possible way.

He kicked the soft mattress off the divan and landed it right under his son. This startled his Bamfs and brought them back to the present. He gestured for them to hold the half-discarded hammock on the floor a few feet above the mattress, which they managed by holding onto to some furniture.

"How much property damage do you see around you ?" He said as he gestured to all the chaos on the first floor alone.

"How many new holes do you count on the house ?" At this, a Red Bamf slowly but surely poked its head over a hole located on the ceiling.

"How much planning went into this party you threw behind my back ?" His voice began betraying his frustration.

"How many bottles did you empty on your own ?" He could smell his son's breath from where he was ; the answer wasn't going to please him in the slightest.

"How many people did you bring into a place that was supposed to stay secret ?" Their home was theirs for this long because little to no one knew it even existed.

'Let's get this over with.'

On today's job : Take out a specific mutant target in the middle of a busy street.

While it wasn't an unusual request, it didn't change the fact that he has always felt uncomfortable walking in crowds. Apart from the obvious reason, it came with its fair share of issues : Too many unfamiliar faces popping in at once then disappearing out of his field of vision. Too many different noises and voice pitches condensing into one incoherent gibberish. Too many smells of various degrees, from strong to mild, from nauseating to plain weird, making it the most confusing scent cocktail. None of these, however, were really the reason why he wanted to get this job done as quickly as possible and move on to some better place.

No, the main reason, and objectively worst part of it all, was that this had to be in Florida. The fabled trickster God's playground. The land where the press hunts for crimes that will inevitably become famous out of state.

If he was going to do this right, there could be no mistakes, and everything had to pass under the press' radars as the most mundane event of the day.

According to his investigation, his target at this time of the day was far ahead of the street he was striding through. He would do it swiftly, then switch his target's wallet with the 'fake' one in his back pocket to hide who truly 'unexpectedly passed away' today. It was an ordinary wallet with all things considered : It had an ID, emergency contact details, a medical insurance card, bills and change totaling 100$, ... The only notable detail about it is that it couldn't possibly be his own.

He made himself as unassuming as humanly possible in the crowd while some bystanders walked closeby, some skipped behind him, some just ran past like it wasn't 97°F, ... Children never seemed phased by this kind of weather until it was too late.

'If I'm not careful enough, I might accidentally step on a kid if most wander off from their parents like this one...'

Strangely enough, he felt... Lighter. Reflexively, he patted over the inside pocket of his jacket before moving to his pants'...

And realizing the fake wallet was gone.

He abruptly stopped on his tracks, causing an old lady to dump into him and nearly fall over if he hadn't caught her at the last second and brought her back to her feet. "Oh my! Thank you, Dear. But don't worry about little old me and go follow your daughter before she gets lost. She looked so excited to go to the aquarium ! She tripped a few times to catch up with you but always got up like a champ ! "

His mind momentarily found itself stuck on the daughter part of her sentence before suddenly understanding what actually went down a few seconds ago.

Being pickpocketed by a child should have been the least surprising thing to happen to him in Florida, yet here he was. Absolutely dumbfounded by the absurdity of the situation.

He found himself simply nodding to the old lady then left without a word. He reached the Florida Aquarium in less than 5 minutes after finally getting out of the busy street.

Seeing no trace of the strange white-haired girl, he walked past the big Devil Ray statue, got to the counter and paid the entrance fee with the money from his wallet. He went in and started looking around for the little thief.

'She hasn't been there for long so she couldn't have wandered off that far. Now, where would a small child go in such a big-...'

As if to answer, a map of the place suddenly faced him.

'... Of course.'

When he reached the aquarium's Petting Zoo, he took a quick look around, trying to spot any usual white hair among the young visitors until...

'There she is... At the corner of the tank with the most rays.'

"Thank you for the advice..." He slightly leans over and takes it from her hands before standing back up. "My tourist days are now far safer than they were before."

'Crisis averted. Hopefully, I don't confuse it with my own now.'

"That's because kids your age shouldn't have jobs to begin with : Adults get into related work accidents everyday and it's not pretty. No one wants to see those things happening to children too."

He observed the girl and found himself wondering.'Responsible parents usually deal with money matters... She doesn't look like she deals with any kind of parent.'

"You had a good $100 in the wallet you stole yet only used one $20 bill..." He closes the wallet off after checking its contents, shaked it a bit as if to access the amount of coins in it, and places it in the other inside pocket of his jacket. "And kept the change, for an aquarium exhibit. You didn't think of getting any food and water with all that money."

He immediately stops his mind from wandering to those places. He shouldn't be thinking like this anymore, let alone giving those pieces of advice.

"Definitely not a Hellion, more like... A warrior: You already have enough battle scars to earn the title. Some brains to boot, too." He remarked as he looked at the dozen old wounds located on her arms alone. "... People usually ask questions when they care. It's always good to know that there are people who care about you, even if they don't know you."

"You've been dealt a bad hand; I can see that. Between people who were only paid to care and those who didn't care enough, the world can only look so bleak." He began calmly as he stared back at her. "You don't want to see anymore of it and those in it who will likely let you down at every turn."

"You are right to feel this way. But the world is vast, times change and you will find better." He spoke with a level of certainty that even surprised him.

He motioned to the two of them on the reflective surface of the water tank.

'If she can't eat any animal products... Maybe her digestive tract is also altered to help accommodate tha-'

That very thought was dismissed once he remembered how thin the girl's bruised arms were when she showed them to him.

He might have to make a few phone calls...

"That's not completely true : Just as not all sharks are dumb, not all people are mean..." He began, his eyes following the small sharks and stingrays that filled the tank.

He has sailed the seas and oceans long enough to know the first part. As for the latter, words alone won't be enough to convince her... In any case.

'What were these sharks called again ? Ah yes...'

"The Mako sharks are not to be underestimated : They tend to ambush their own small prey, which requires a bit more thought and strategy than just mindlessly chasing it" He crosses his arms over his chest.

"But as smart as they are compared to other sharks in how they behave and interact with their surroundings, they can still accidentally attack humans, " He asserted as he continued. "And hurt them quite badly. "