#mutantism

max mentioned food and magda had been hungry, even if all her appetite has left her, even if her stomach now roils with anxiety, with the terrible knowledge of how much metal there is in the room. knifes and forks and spoons, bits of metal in the hinges of the doors, coins, belts, zippers ... even her own bag would not be safe, for all that she’d clutched it like a lifeline while he kept his silver-shard eyes on her the whole way here.

she had expected him to find her again, had known it was inevitable the moment she had seen him, the moment he had known. but she had promised herself she would fight harder, that she would not be cowed into going with him again -- but, faced with the harsh angles of his face, her courage had fled her, flapping into the distance and out of reach. he will never leave her be and magda has nowhere left to run.

and so, she sits. her jaw seemingly glued shut, not knowing what will spill from her mouth if she opens it. the diner, open, with daylight pouring in and people bustling around, is not comforting. she sits and she waits for her eggs and toast and she waits, like she had the last time, for him to understand and allow her to leave.

          ’my name is ruthe bagodan,,’     she declares, one knee crossing over the other. she wonders if he has heard of her -- she's certainly heard of him. mrs bagodan focuses upon the man across from her, giving him a scrutinizing gaze. she relents, relaxing back into the armchair. she isn’t here on legal business. well, maybe a little, but she’s not here to judge, simply to offer help. perhaps to seek a fair trade of assistance. ( if things go well. )

          ruthe leans against the arm-rest with the entirety of her weight, cheek resting upon her hand. the limb blurs from vision entirely as she does this. angel had assured her that there was no need to hide her abilities or to tone them down in this environment, and she trusts in the woman’s words.    ‘one of my girls got her hands on a leaflet of yours. i’ve heard some things about your people, and very few of them were nice. except when they came from my clients.’ 

SPACE ROOMIES DRINKING GAME VIBES

from some meme i dont remember oops

Erik takes the seat behind Janos’ desk, tucked away from the wall of windows, the twinkling lights, the high-gloss wooden dance floor, and the floor-to-ceiling mirrors of the front of the studio. The office is well decorated–each piece of decor meticulously organized, curated for the space–but impersonal, much like that of a high-end hotel room. Where most would have photos of family members or friends on display, scattered about the walls or across their desks, Janos has stock photos and framed magazine clippings of dancers and recitals.

It seems his students either don’t care, or don’t see the difference, too wrapped up in the performance of it all, willingly suspending any disbelief they might have nested in the backs of their minds. What a beautiful office, they’ll often gasp, reaching out to touch the strangers behind the glass with one hand as they plunge the other into their wallets.

“You are right, jefe,” he says, voice low as he forgoes the man’s name for his position, his status: above, separate, removed. 

Janos does not have many true personal relationships, and even with Erik--as much as Janos longs for more than he gets, and despite all the times they’ve clearly crossed that wavering line--his loneliness gnaws at him. But, he’s of the opinion that loneliness is a better alternative to heartbreak; to the death of dear ones; to countless rejections, each more painful than the last.

Even so--

  The problem with crashing at Alice’s place, even when you have a standing invitation, is that then you’re there at night.

  The bedroom is quiet except for her strained breathing. She doesn’t writhe; it’s nothing as exaggerated as that. She’s lying on her side, back slightly arched, one arm wrapped stiffly around her waist. Both fists clenched. At night, in armor or not, they still feel like claws.

For the first time in three days, Josh peeks his head out his door during the daytime. He knows something happened--the others had been rushing about with nervous excitement--but he doesn’t know exactly what that was, as all the hustle and bustle had prompted him to hole up in his room.

But now the halls are almost eerily quiet and begging for an investigation. So he slips out, creeping past the three empty bedrooms nearest his own and resuming a normal gait upon reaching one of the main halls. He half expects to see Sean or Alex in the kitchen, or to find Luz in one of the studies, but instead he finds the rooms empty. Frowning a little, looking back over his shoulder, he rounds a corner and smacks into Erik, knocking the both of them off kilter for a moment.

     “Oh, sor-- Oh.”

He blinks rapidly, eyes locking onto Erik and arms automatically coming up to steady him when Josh sees the condition he’s in.