oh, these dangerous days—

"i think i can find it in myself to picture something like that." he's sarcastic, but not unpleasantly so. santi isn't a stranger to the idea that he could want something from him, either. it's not hard to see. victor is of a particular attitude when they get together—and this time he might even be willing to finally indulge it. "why don't we get settled and you can tell me more about what you would want for me? it's like you say, you've done very well for yourself. maybe it's time to reward you."

A reward? Oh fuck him—his mouth watered at the thought. To be perfectly honest, Victor didn't expect this to happen to him at all. He was much too used to talking to Santi and laying down the innuendos in their conversations. but here he was, actually giving him an inch. He had been stunned speechless at the thought, taking a moment to take in what the man was actually... implying. "Requests? For you?" Victor sayss, flushing a light pink on his cheeks. "Well, for starters? I honestly thought we would do more than talk, but that might've just been an overactive imagination."

"the plants will be sad? i'm surprised they're not freezing by now." at the same time, not really. derek seems to take care of them better than he takes care of himself. then again, who can blame him for that? it's not like his self really needs any care. as much as adrian doesn't think he'd be keen on the impromptu fur coat, he's about ready to wish for a thicker one just to get rid of the chill. "...ugh, don't call it that. paste. you'll kill my appetite." falling silent for a moment, he more seriously answers, "that would be nice, thanks. i mean, since you don't need to eat, i wouldn't blame you for not wanting to cook, either."

"I mean. The food comes in a tube, Walker. I don't know what you would call it." The food had been less than appealing to Derek ever since he got here—though, he had paid out of his own pocket for some much better things to taste. Peanut butter and non-radioactive meats were on the top of his list. So, when they put the nutrient slop back onto their laps, Derek was simply grateful that none of it was going to waste. Turning the heat back up, though it had hardly helped any, Derek turned the stove on and promptly started frying up thick, sauage-like strips of paste into a skillet, the sound sizzling in their shared apartment. "Uh. Should I—should we crack open a window for this?" He asks, worried about the smoke detectors. And the raging blizzard. "I don't think the exhaust's gonna keep up."

"I just implore advice from someone experienced as you-how would you approach this sistuation."

Ah, yes. The time-honored tradition of healthcare fatigue—they had a tightly running ship, and while Adonis had been keen enough to ask for help in some ways or other, there was really no substitute for good old-fashioned manpower. One doesn't really just pick up a scalpel and cut, though Adonis certainly wished that were the case. Though, any auxilliary staff could be solved with a snap of his fingers. "We can transfer assignments once this is done—people won't be banging down the doors for this work, but we can get them trained," he replied coolly, his breath becoming visible in the frost. "Any able-bodied mutant that has healing or regenerative factors have been assigned to Sector Four, but between forcing people to enroll their children into medical school and having to telepathically download things into people's memories, this has been a long-suffering problem for the sector."

they stare at the pen. simple transmutation, he calls it... but the concept doesn't strike them as simple in the least bit. concepts have been more difficult than actions since day one. maybe they're the only thing in this existence that feels that way, though. "okay," it says, lips pulled into a thin line, eyes locked to the pen. the pen. how is it supposed to change a pen into anything at all? but how had it plunged sol city into chaos? it's just so difficult to remember everything at once... frowning harder, its brow creases. the pen vanishes. surprise blooms on their expression, hands coming up in alarm. "i—i don't know what happened. i tried to make it into a... a rock, like you said. i didn't mean to lose it." worried that they've transgressed further, it's quick to finish, "i'm sorry."

Adonis touches the place where the pen once stood, now missing and hums in amazement. "Don't apologize. It's fascinating." He has the urge to pet it like a, well, pet. All things considered, Adonis can't exactly see where the pen ends up—obliterated, perhaps, or maybe sent to a quantum pocket dimension, or maybe simply teleported across the globe. Mutation is a hard thing to quantify, but his eyes widen at how Null simply has power at its fingertips. "Perhaps, in the future—you would want to do this in a much more controlled environment? We could have some other assistants, mutant or human around. Or, if you prefer, I could simply come by and help you with your, ah, predicament." Adonis opens his palms, a smile on his face, ever the politican. "Anything to help you with your power, of course."

"i don't think i've been acquainted with your solo work." he's been to a show or two, when the opportunity has presented itself and something hasn't actively worked against him... but life in sol city is hard for someone determined to do the right thing. "but i didn't think i'd have to wrangle you to get you to cooperate with that. is that what you want me to do?" he cocks a brow, suggestive.

"Apparently, I like to have my way, if you can believe it." Victor's smirk was apparent, and it made the lights around him glow even brighter, like an aurora, sliding clean across his skin. "But I want so many things from you, Santi. Guidance, patience, a strong hand—" There goes more unsaid, but Victor holds his tongue, not out of shame... entirely. His eyes look at Santiago up and down, appreciating the view. "I've been good, after all. Helping out and such. Call it positive reinforcement."

"i don't like the way you said that," he grumbles, not without some good nature to his tone. adrian is a lot of things, occasionally unpleasant among them, but he is not someone who goes out of his way to bite the hand that feeds him. that still doesn't leave him thrilled with the prospect of huddling naked for warmth like a bunch of penguins. two penguins? not really a bunch. the worst part is that derek is right. this is warming. it's even more comfortable than every other blanket they have in the apartment combined... how is that fair? "...yeah, it's better. but i'm not taking my pants off okay? not before dinner."

"Hey, if you wanna freeze, that's none of my business, but the plants'll be sad they're losing you!" Derek joked, petting Adrian's head with a bit of amusement. "Do you want me to get you dinner? I mean, they're sending us some half-edible grub. And you get two for the price of once since, you know, I don't need to eat, really." It's been a useful mutation, especially when it comes to survival situations; the fact that he's not dead weight when it came to resources was at least a balm on Derek's conscience. "I think I can fry up the paste in some oil. If we can get the burners working, at least."

well... better than nothing. energy drink it is. the fun looking straw is definitely a compensation, and it helps sunny move his head a bit, just enough to get his lips to it and watch the bubbly drink race across the inside of the straw before it hits his tongue. he takes a few big gulps before he finally moves, pushing himself off the floor and into a lazy sitting position as he holds onto his drink. "I'll be fine, miss." it's a tired, but melodic tone that escapes him. he thinks about going home, and asking to be pampered by his boyfriend after a hard training... and then he realizes how he's made sure that such a thing isn't on the table anymore, and his gaze lowers for a moment. he'll have to draw his own bath. make his own drink. curl up in bed alone. ugh. "perhaps an ice bath wouldn't be so awful. I'm rather hot to the touch right now, I reckon. I don't know how much longer I could've kept that up."

"Oh, of course, Mister Solguard, sir. One ice bath coming right up." She says it in mock reverence, an impish smile on her face. Her hand waves, and a soft pile of snow simply appears fifteen feet above Sunny, landing on him in a satisfying fump as January smiled at the currently steaming pile. Her mutation did delight her so—not just the random headaches or the pains, but the joy she could muster up for herself was second to none. January leans over happily enjoying the bit. "Do you need help standing, Sunny? Should I portal you to the infirmary, or will you float all the way there? Oh, and do you need more snow to cool down?"

Adonis pursed his mouth into a thin line, trying to rein in his skyrocketing blood pressure—Jiro was exhausting and argumentative, with less reason than he'd liked; anger or cajoling would not ease his burdens, but fuck him was he trying hard to keep any bedside manner at all. "Well, at least we have something; if the radiation levels are harmful enough now, but if I take too much, you starve, we can find a happy middle," he says, looking to have a discussion with Sector Three about this; there was this radioactive woman, after all—perhaps some of the nuclear energy could be given to Jiro. "Fascinating. Caloric intake turned into nuclear radiation. Perhaps you sleep, like Santiago does, or go into hibernation. Many mammals with a surplus of energy do, or lizards in cold environs. Have you never been in any true danger yet?"

As soon as Adonis gives him a pill bottle, Seth opens it and pops three capsules down the hatch, swallowing them dry with a groan. "Mm, proper channels, improper channels... I don't think it's that black and white, it's more about time and place. But for four fifty seven on a Tuesday, in this pretty little office, your channels are just a bit more proper than mine."

"I'd rather have an odd day with no disasters, but that's too much to ask, really." There isn't much that Adonis asks for, but he doesn't want to jinx anything right now. If prayer and superstition could at least help some backwater monastery in the mountains, maybe it could serve them all in the cities right now. Perhaps he could ask the leader of the Coven for some prayers or whatnot. A placebo is better than nothing, after all. "Just a bit? Councilor, let's not delude ourselves." Adonis teases, writing down the specifics for the arm for the next hapless biomedical engineer that would even work on this thing. "I'm more proper than you ever will be, but—the trick with improper connections is to disguise them well enough that no one can distinguish them from the proper ones. Or have you never been taught that lesson?"

"Total honesty? I missed you. Been running around like a chicken with my head cut off and all the while I'm just thinking of my rock star, grabbed offstage and kept in the dark like a canary down a goddamn mine shaft... broke my heart." Seth sweeps the beam around in a lazy figure-eight before bringing the flashlight to shine into Victor's face, and his expression is faintly challenging. "You want me to go?"

"Fuck you." It's said with less heat than usual, and the dawning realization he doesn't want him to go. Fuck Victor with a ten foot pole, he missed Seth. There was something wrong with him that he missed his presence, the roiling heat whenever they had to talk or fight or fuck or do whatever the hell that came to their minds in their immediacy. He looked worse for wear, and all he wanted to do is run a hand through his hair. Maybe feel that metal on his skin, and wonder how it felt against his throat. "I find that hard to believe," Victor admits, looking at Seth with a challenge of his own—he has a hard time believing anyone misses him anyway. Aside from fans, or his agents, of course. Anyone who knew him had to be exhausted about his own bullshit right now, anyways. "Missing me? I think you just want to rail me again, but I'll let it pass." Meaning: he's just terribly lonely again. "What, you want me to sing for you, shirt off in a warehouse or something?"

January huffs in annoyance and sighs. "I need... a magnifying glass. Some meat and—no, those are probably long gone with the frost. Perhaps a human stomach? Recently slaughtered, preferrably. Dead is fine, but I'd rather have the blood on me, in case." Sympathetic magic is easier on her nerves, and tearing apart reality to duplicate things is hardly something she wants to do—if it ends up with Sol City in a ravine, she wants to minimize the risk as much as possible. "Oh, do you think we can find a raider and kill them? Do we need to ask for permission for that?"