ѕнe'ѕ lιĸe yoυ.

“Thanks. I go over to the mainland when I can and I’d rather not be the gringo who doesn’t know a ‘cuchara’ from a ‘cuchillo’,” He did his best to communicate in the language of the locale he was in. Some of the workers at the park, but not many, were from Costa Rica themselves which helped him keep up his Spanish skills. People were usually forgiving so long as you actually tried. 

Owen gives the cage she’s in a quick once over, looking at how structurally sound the whole thing was. If they didn’t give too much of a crap about cleaning up the space, how secure could this thing really be? The poor girl could really use a bath. 

“Look, I’ve got an idea. It’s a little risky but…you seem like a good kid, I wanna help you out,” He eyes her carefully, his gaze stern. “But if I’m gonna pull it off, you’ve gotta listen to me, okay? I can try and get you out of here but don’t try to pull anything, got it? If they catch me tryin’ to get you out of here, we’ll both be in big trouble.” 

If a worker comes by, he might be able to snag their key card to get her out of here. It’s a risk worth taking though, no one deserves to live like that. 

She laughs, actually LAUGHS for what felt like the first time in...ever. Laura, in the life she has been forced to leave, didn’t exactly have the option to laugh. Between the facility and the metal cage there had been nothing to laugh about. But this man, in the short time that she had known him, managed to make her feel safe and laugh. More and more he grew trustworthy.

Hands grip the bars of the cage, her knuckles covered in her own dried blood from attempting to break out. Her soft yet feral eyes look at him through the cracks and, ever so slowly, she nods. “I will listen.” Not just anyone could get a Wolverine to listen and actually be patient but Owen had done so. A fear that deserved a trophy or at least a medal.

      ❛ you’re not one, laura. ❜

steve smiles.  it is something soft —  a little sad  &  distant.  as though it is a shadow of a time when his smile shined brightly.  the face on the screen is of a young,  war-ready bucky barnes.  his cap it a little askew atop of dark curls.  he marches with the strength of a true  SOLDIER.  ❝ ——  he’s,  ❞    steve is slow to reply,  ❝ —— he’s my  BEST  FRIEND.   he’s very special to me.  ❞

steve follows her line of sight to the television.  a frown pulls which he tries to mask but he’s sure she can see it as soon as it comes.  it is in his eyes.  ❝ ——  no,   ❞    he says to her.  when he first came out of the ice,  he was fortunate enough to have some of his friends still alive.  he visited with them but —-  he ended up going to their  FUNERALS  as well.  his head shakes,  ❝ —— no,  no —  they weren’t like us.   ❞

“Yeah well, that doesn’t stop me from feeling the way I feel.” Which he figures is the way that many other mutants feel regarding their status. So little of them in the world, Scott sometimes felt as the last one standing. Everyone he loves is dead and he couldn’t stop the way science seems to want to wipe them out.  Scott watches her through his lens, eyes looking at the girl with curiosity and wonder.  “Until recently?   Logan is alive?” The way she spoke though, tells him that the situation was far more complicated than he realised. “Laura. Well Laura   are there any others like you? Young mutants?” Empathises on the young. Long decades without a mutant being born and yet here he is, in front of a young girl with Logan’s powers and DNA. He eyes the bike, a part of him, the one that had learned to hide for years, wants to leave the girl on her own. While the other, the one that once was the leader of the X-Men, wanted to help her. 

Death had become something so familiar to Laura. It felt like an old friend that she would occasionally see and simply give a respectful nod to. She could not force it to leave or predict when it was going to show up. But, when it did, she would simply greet it. Not everyone could see death in such a way, though, which was something Laura was trying her best to understand. “He’s not anymore.” The words are bitter, an evil bite with every syllable. Thinking of her father and how he had died for her brought up a bitter taste in her throat, the sensation of it tightening a bit began to take over. Even though she could push down emotions for everyone else’s death, her father’s still managed to cause such a feeling. Eyes flicker to him and she nods, “Yes, in Canada. Quite a few.”

Peter watches with curiosity at the way she reacts at the music. And once the smile appears and the nods following the pace of the song appear, he gives a chuckle of his own, hands clapping together. “Alright! You can totally keep that until the song ends, but I need it back. I NEVER run without my music.” Or charges into action, though he was told not to do that anymore. The only reason they haven’t got to him was because he was too fast for them. “You have now been blessed by this music, kid.”

Owen smirks a little on realizing that the girl can speak English. Now they’re getting somewhere. “Good. Spanish isn’t my best language,” He laughs at himself, wishing he knew more in order to make the girl feel more comfortable. English would have to do for now. 

“Laura. Mi nombre es Owen,” He indicates himself with a hand on his chest. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll get you some water, okay? You need food too, si? I can get that too—Who takes care of you? Have they not been doing their job?” 

Obviously they hadn’t. Every other exhibit in this park was kept in pristine condition, all of the animals were well kept and fed, including his own. But Laura here was kept in dismal conditions and stand to high heaven. The poor girl. 

“Hey, I’m just tryin’ to do the right thing. Nobody deserves to be treated like——mierda.” 

“You did well.” She comments, “Your Español is much better than the other people’s.” The people who took care of her knew exactly where Laura had come from, or had at least read it off of her file, so they would try to speak Spanish to her as best they could. Of course, most times, it was more mocking than anything and tended to just piss her off rather than make her feel comfortable. When Owen spoke, though, she felt the most comfortable she had in weeks.

Immediately she nods, “Comida y agua. Sí, sí.” The mere thought of having some real food once more had her mouth practically salivating. She wipes the sleeve of her jacket against her mouth in an attempt to hide that animal side of her. “Couple of men. Come by once a day to laugh then leave.”

From her cage, she could barely see some of the other exhibits. They all looked so put together and nice, kept in the best of condition for those that would see it. But, since she couldn’t be seen by the public, she was kept in horrid conditions- conditions that would normally kill a person.