She's going to go out of her mind -- and it shows. The television set won't stop flickering, but Rachel can't even register -- there's too many voices-- too many thoughts... her foot begins tapping, bright jade irises fluttering in front of her but all she views is fog...

"That bad, huh? No - I disagree. It's just a little slip of a knife." Right...she'd been stabbed straight through her forearm. 'Slip of the knife'... That's how she chooses to see it. Honestly, she's still figuring out how to heal herself psionically but she knows it's possible. She'd managed to get the blood to cease from pouring out, which may or may not have the doctor confused...or freaked out. -- or both?

"Ok -- you've done it...you've really done it this time..." Rachel speaks to herself, mostly beneath her breath. "Great good... what's the plan?" but just as surely as her resolution has come, her mother is on her way aross the street...towards her -- Fuck!

There's an instant regret circulating her features -- oh no, she went too far back... This obviously could fuck up any sense of a fluid timeline so she has to be careful but -- she's absolutely intrigued. Is that... it is. It's young Tony Stark... Rachel does her best to bow out of sight but being the elegant tiny red-head that she is, she knows it's easier to be seen sometimes. She snags the first bit of paper she can find...a crinkled newspaper, yeah -- sure, and attempts to hide her features with it. Maybe he hadn't seen her looking...

"I'm bored--" a reckless grin begins to appear upon her lips. "I can already tell you are thinking what I am thinking..."

"I hate to cut our time short but -- I have a meeting to attend to." Rachel instigates -- she doesn't. But, she's not about to be honest when it comes to this particular individual. She'd known from the get-go at the very mention of her 'Hello, I'm Rachel Grey...' he'd be pressing. She'd gotten this far on her own, without having to utilize her powers...very often. She doesn't need a journalist poking around. "It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Wynter. Lunch is on me. -- I hope you got what you came for." ( He hadn't. ) She provides a delicate and closed-lip beam before returning to her feet.

She's barely paying attention -- flame flickering between fingertips absurdly distracting. Rachel would much rather watch the fire's elegant dance upon her digits than listen to what Pep has to say. However, because she recognizes that Uncle Logan may get angry at the way the redhead treats the other, she puts a halt to her shenanigans and adjusts in her seat. "I don't need a babysitter -- this is stupid." Ray snarks.