Attack of the As

Log Info

Title: Attack of the As
Emitter: Ellipse
Characters: Alessandra, Alia; Adrian, Amy
NPCs: Jordan
Place: Steranko Institute, Cove City, MD
Time: 7/20/2010, evening, and 7/23/2010, dinner-time
Summary: Empath Jordan meets an array of Steranko students: Alessandra, Alia, Adrian and Amy. Alliterative association awaits.


Threading across the Quads is a slight young woman with cropped brown hair, a book tucked under one arm. She might be recognizable as young junior Jordan Hirst, who has been here since the beginning of the spring semester. Though quiet, she is one of those people with presence - not hard to remember her, especially if she's chosen to speak.

For her part, Sandra is walking across campus - with nothing in her hands at all. The young woman is wearing flip-flops that smack-a-smack as she walks, and she seems to be heading towards the East, leaving campus perhaps. Stretching her hands above her head, Sandra looks at the sky and smiles, "Good weather for a swim, and this late the beach should be clearing," she notes to herself, quite pleased with that deduction. Sandra, herself, was a Sophomore this last year, having arrived at the beginning of the year. However, unlike Jordan, Sandra does not mean to, but she is hard to miss. As the yong woman walks through the Quad, she offers a nod to the Junior she does not know.

Jordan slows in her brisk stride, returning the nod. Ash grey eyes flick curiously over the other's face, intent - not rude, but certainly analytical. "Alessandra," she greets. "Having a good week?" Her voice is low-pitched for her frame, alto verging on androgynous.

The odd girl from Atlanta (or so she says) stops and blinks at the short-haired brunette. For a moment she stares at Jordan then frowns inwardly. "I am remiss, forgive me. But I cannot recollect your name," she says in earnest. "The week could be worse, so I suppose it is good. And yourself?"

Alia walks easily along the path, coming from the dance hall. She glances back and forth, her demeanor serious but still somewhat relaxed. When she spots Sandra, she smiles a bit, changing course to meet up with the fellow alien princess/partner in crime. She arches a brow towards Jordan, not having seen the other girl much before now as she adjusts the duffel bag under her arm.

"I'm Jordan," the girl replies, extending a hand with formal precision. "I'm afraid we haven't met. I overheard your name in a class discussion." There is a brief crinkle around her eyes, as if she finds something humorous, or at least intriguing. "It's been … good. Not as productive as I'd like." She half-turns as Alia approaches, eyes widening. She quickly tucks her hands behind her back, almost dropping her book as she does.

Hand-shaking! Sandra has learned this greeting method of the Surface-dwellers and happy grasps Jordan's hand, all be it gently, before shaking it - again gently. "Ah. I should still be more aware of others. Do forgive," she states. "Mmmm, what is it you are trying to be productive about? There is still time in the day, I can put off my ritual trip to the beach," she offers.
As Alia approaches, Sandra turns as well, an eyebrow arching upwards at Jordan's reaction faintly, before a formal nod is given to the Alien Young Woman. "Greetings to you, Alia. Have you spoken to your father about using your scanners to search for a possible location of Laputa? I am hoping they may know something of the deity that cursed Jonathan there and help him find a way around the curse."

Alia hrms, "I wrote to him about it, but there is a bit of a complication with that…" She glances over at Jordan, blinking a little in surprise, "Is there a problem?" Either her planet doesn't have tact or (more likely) she doesn't decide to bother with it right now, as she turns back towards Sandra, "It's mainly a question of not spooking anyone." Because when well-armed spaceships suddenly change locations in orbit, it tends to make people nervous for some silly reason.

Jordan's head tips down, noting the gingerness of the handshake. "It's a goal of mine to be as aware of people as possible," she says. "We're a strange, inscrutable species." She listens to the rest of the dialogue with alacrity and slightly narrowed eyes; obvious she's soaking it up like a sponge. "Oh, it's research," she says. "Psychology. I promised my mother I wouldn't get off-track just because of the extra neohuman coursework." But then she brightens, a tinge of excitement flowing into the otherwise serene voice, "Except there are even more opportunities here." Her attention shifts to Alia, just the faintest trace of pink on her cheeks. "No problem. Forgive the direct question, but are you the alien?"

"Psychology, the study of the inner throughts and mental workings of a being - some say the study of a soul. But most, if I am correct, just call it mind shrinking?" asks Sandra before casually clasping her own hands behind her back, looking pleasantly between Alia and Jordan. To Alia Sandra offers a nod. "Understandable. It looks like I will have to do some investigative research then," she notes, pursing her lips in thought. "Do not let your mother rule the direction you choose in life, One's choice should be of One's own making."

Alia arches a brow, "That would imply that there is only one, but I am an alien to this world, yes." She hrms a bit, then looks over towards Sandra, "I will be happy to assist you in this endeavor, of course. Helping Jonathan out seems like a rather worthy goal here.

"I'm not sure that the soul pertains to psychology," Jordan says, "except as the X factor - the unknown, the unpredictable. And applied correctly, it doesn't shrink the mind, it expands it. In knowing ourselves, we come closer to our true potential." Her expression is subtly luminous when discussing this topic. "Oh, it's my choice, as well. But she was … very unhappy when I was recruited here, so I like to assure her that I'm still her little girl." For her, a little twitch of the lips is close enough to a smile. "All right, you are the obvious, identified alien currently in residence at this school in the same grade as I." Her tone is amused.

A nod is given to Alia and Sandra almost smiles. Then she turns to blink at Jordan curiously, tilting her head to the side as she listens. "Mmmm, I suppose that is what every parent wants to know, really," offers Sandra, trying to sound assuring, even though she is out of her depth on that topic. "Was it the fact you were leaving, or that you were one of these Dynamics?" asks Sandra, refusing to use the word Neohuman.

Alia nods, "That would in fact be the case, yes. I'll be starting Junior year this fall." She hrms, looking a bit out of place when the discussion is human psychology, not quite contributing to the topic at hand.
"Dynamics?" Jordan inquires. "Is that an alternate term for what we are? I've not read it in my materials." She shrugs. "She has always known I have powers. She just … doesn't like me associating with others." Her tone on this explanation is neutral; nothing to be read there. She addresses Alia next. "Then would you be willing to speak with me at some point, take a few short tests? Of the question-and-answer variety."

"It is, in a way. It comes from the Greek word meaning 'Power'. Using Neo, which means 'new' is hardly appropriate considering there are those out their that claim to be Gods, and of course Alia here is not 'Human' as we use the term," she offers with an almost lecturing tone. Then Sandra gives an awkward roll of her shoulders. "But that is my own little … mmm… quark," she says.

Alia grins wryly, "No, I'm considerably not human, this is true." She glances over at Jordan, "What sorts of tests and questions? I don't think there'd be any objection to that, really."

"This is something you feel strongly about?" Jordan inquires, then, "Of course, the labels we use for things is very important, but the fanciful tends to win out over the accurate." She studies Alia - not rude, but one gets the feeling the eyes don't miss much. "Yet you look very human. I read that the odds of an alien species even having a form we would understand, much less one similar to ours …" she trails off. "Some basic psych profile tests and a few general questions about mores. Of course, you could decline to answer anything that made you feel uncomfortable."

Sandra offers another formal nod. "Indeed, that does seem to be fact," she offers, falling silent to let Alia and Jordan speak.

Alia nods, "I suppose that I do. But I don't think there would be any significant problem with the type of tests that you describe." She smiles, "And I shall let you know if I have a problem with any of your questions, never worry."

"Somewhere, a group of science fiction writers cried out in horror and were suddenly silenced," Jordan observes. "All right, that would be great. And to be honest, you learn something even from discomfort or the refusal to answer." The faint smile returns. "Psychology is sneaky that way."

"Then one must be observant of it, then," says Sandra, attempting her own joke in response to Jordan's.

Alia nods, "Well, indeed, but does not the nature of observation change the status of the situation?" She smiles faintly towards Jordan, "When would be a good time for your tests and questions?"

"Oh, yes, it can creep up on people and sucker-punch into doing something they didn't intend to," Jordan says. "Not that this is the source of my interest." She nods, then. "You can't observe something without changing it. But if the alternative is not observing, really, where's the choice?" She cocks her head. "Perhaps at lunchtime one day?"
Alia nods, "That sounds like an excellent idea. I shall look forward to it." She smiles, "But now, I should be going. It was good to meet you, Jordan."

"I'll make sure I've got everything in order," Jordan says, retrieving her book and flipping to the marked page. "Good to meet you, Alia. I'll see you soon." She heads over to a bench to read.



Seated at one of the tables in the Dining Hall, Adrian Young is only nibbling at his food while he works on a drawing in his sketchbook. He's not really trying to hide what's on the page. It's a costumed figure. Really, it's not that unusual a subject considering the campus and that all the students on campus either have super powers or are just crazy, super-talented, young masochists like Timothy Grayson. Adrian pulls another colored pencil from his art box and starts shading in the costume he's inked on the page. Varying shadees of green. He sets the pencil down to exchange for another bite of the chicken dish that's the special of the evening.

Slipping into the dining hall is the slight figure of Jordan Hirst. She has been here since the beginning of the spring semester, but being fairly quiet - and also about to be a junior, having skipped grades before coming to Steranko - Adrian has probably only seen her from afar. Brown hair is worn in a close bob; her eyes are ash grey. She's speaking into her cellphone as she approaches the line, voice deep alto. "… no, I haven't charged into any robberies yet. … well, yes, mother, if someone asked me …" A few moments later, "No, I don't think codenames are pretentious. … Yes, I've thought about one. … No, that doesn't *mean* anything." Her tone is very restrained, but the slow swell of exasperation is evident.
She finally excuses herself and juggles the phone into her pocket, winding herself and tray in Adrian's general direction. She lurks back a step to study the drawing first, then ventures, "Mind if I sit?"

Adrian's brown eyes lift up from his drawing to look at the lingering girl. There's barely half a beat of time before his lips are curving into that winning smile of his and he nudges the chair next to him out. "No, I don't mind," he says. He slides his art materials and sketchbook out of the way, closer to himself so that Jordan has room for her tray. "I've seen you around campus. I'm Adrian," he offers.

"Thanks," Jordan says, returning the smile with one of her own - reserved, but not shy. She seats herself, setting the tray down. It's apportioned precisely to some health standard or another. "Jordan," she says, twisting to offer her hand. "It's good to meet you." She scans his face for a moment - not intrusive or staring, simply summing him up - then drops her gaze to the sketchpad. "Nice work …" There's a faint hint of question in her voice, prodding.

Without thinking, Adrian reaches out to clasp Jordan's offered hand. Adrian is studying her face in a similarly appraising way. She's cute. This is part of the reason he offers his hand without hessitation. "Good to meet you too," he says. Before he can release her hand, he realizes his lapse as he feels that now familiar prickle on the back of his neck that tells him he just turned off someone's power… even as Jordan would feel a sort of sinking, fluttery feeling in her stomach. "Sorry about that. I'm still learning to control the whole power-cancelling thing. It's sort of automatic right now," the boy is quick to say, his tongue darting out to mositen his lips. He glances at his sketchpad, then back up to Jordan. "And thanks… I'm uh… working on costume ideas."

Jordan's eyes widen slightly, at first surprised, then processing the sensation. "What … oh. I've heard about you." There's a subtle curl of warmth in her voice. "And that's all right. It's an interesting feeling. I wonder if …" Her eyelids flutter, eyes distant as she concentrates and … apparently gets nowhere, for she sits back with a bump, smiling wryly. There's nothing awkward or hesitant about her; if she's anything less than fully self-possessed, it's impossible to tell. She leans forward, intent. "How does it work, do you know? Is it an actual block or a mental one? Or even a placebo effect?" Then - there, finally, is the faintest trace of color to her cheeks. "I don't mean to suggest that it's not real. I wouldn't do that." Then she twists to regard the picture again. "Any particular reason for green?"

Adrian gets a bemused expression, "You've heard about me? Wow, now there's something that can be either great coming from a girl, or potentially ominous." He watches her, his head tilted slightly to one side. Absently he picks up his carton of milk and takes a drink from it, dropping it back onto his tray when he's finished. The young man shakes his head, broad shoulders lifting in a careless shrug, "I'm not really sure. And, no, it's okay. Suggest whatever you want. Your guess is as good as mine. I figure it has something to do with suppressing whatever makes people's powers work though… so long as there's some genetic element to them. Something to do with DNA and…"
And his cheeks color faintly. The self-proclaimed jock doesn't usually talk up the fact that he's actually fairly smart. "Well, anyway…" He clears his throat. "I learned the hard way it doesn't work on machines. It does wear off… what do you do, I mean, when you can do it, that is." He looks at the drawing, the various shades of green. "No, not really. Other than I like the color green. Thinking about a splash of orange somewhere… probably try a few other color schemes."

Jordan offers a quiet laugh. "It's not ominous," she assures him. "I never judge people until I've met them." Her eyes crinkle up, as if to imply that there is plenty of judgement going on now - whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. She cuts a piece of chicken, silent for a moment as she eats, and then a grave, "Tastes like … chicken." She cocks her head to look at him again. "How hard, if you don't mind me asking?"
Then she regards his blush with a quizzical look, not quite coming to the point of asking. "If it works on the genetic level, that's remarkable," she says. "Though there are individuals who were born with powers that aren't expressed through DNA, too …" By the sound of it, she could happily go around the subject for a while. Now it's her turn to be faintly abashed, focusing on the sketch again. "Hmm. Well, grey is traditionally the 'neutral' color, but it's dull. Lavender is higher powers, but it's rather feminine." A quasi-bratty twitch to her lips, swiftly gone again. "I suppose that brings you to the level of what looks good on you."

"That's a good way to be. I like to make my own opinions about people too. Just because one person doesn't get along well with someone doesn't mean that I won't. Different personalities and all that," Adrian says. He pokes at one of the potatoes and then skewers it with his fork. A few chews and it is swallowed. He laughs when she says that the chicken tastes like chicken. "I had a friend that went to Africa. Spent a summer there living with some tribe or another and he said one night they served tarantula. He said it tasted like chicken. So, then he goes into town and actually fixes them some chicken a couple nights later. You know what they said when they tried it?"
He doesn't wait long before delivering the punchline. "It tastes like tarantula." His brown eyes gleam and some of that color in his cheeks fades as he nods. "Oh, yeah… it works with some mystic powers too, I've found. I don't know that those really count as genetic, but it's something to think about." Then she asks how hard and he absently drops a hand to his midsection, but grins broadly, "Not hard enough to kill me. And what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" He looks back at his drawing. "Grey would probably make me look washed out. It's a good neutral. I look good in red, but the guys in red usually wind up dead." His lips quirk upwards, "So that leaves me with browns, blues, or…" he taps the page, "Green."

"I like to make other people's opinions about people, too." That must be a joke, but the twitch of Jordan's lips is a subtle thing. She laughs at the joke, bobbing her head. "I'm sure some very learned studies have been done to determine why chicken tastes like everything, but it remains one of the great mysteries of life." Pause. "And I imagine tarantulas are somewhat less meaty."
She toys with her fork for a moment before diving back into the food. "Some of them must - others, it's hard to imagine how it could be called genetic, but I don't think anyone can really put magic into scientific terms … so who knows? It's deeper than just a convenient label, obviously." She winces a little at his description of the damage, but nods. "I … suppose so. My mother has always said that 'not getting killed' should be the last resort for strength training." A small apologetic smile. "Hmm, the Star Trek principle, right. Brown hides stains well -" lip-quirk "- but the right shades blues and greens send a positive message to the brain."
Apparently at random, she circles back to an earlier question. "I'm an empath - in the science fiction sense. If I'm focusing, I can sense how people are feeling around me … and influence it, too. The teachers tell me if I worked, I could probably learn to reach deeper, but … I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that." A shrug.

"I must have a secondary power that attracts empaths and telepaths," Adrian says with a wry grin, "You don't read minds do you?" It's dinner time in the cafeteria and Adrian is sharing a table with Jordan Hirst, a Junior at Steranko. "I wouldn't know about tarantulas though, I've never had one myself… but you're probably right. I'd figure there wouldn't be a whole lot to it. Crunchy legs though."
Adrian realizes that he has a hand on his mid-section and draws it away, covering by grabbing his milk again. "Yeah, there are better ways of training. There's always Coach Mason and the Thunderdome," he says. He takes a drink of his milk and then exchanges the carton for another pencil. This one an orange. "A positive message would be good, I figure. Alright, Jordon, honest opinion. What do you think about codenames?" No, he didn't overhear her earlier conversation on the phone. It's just ironic coincidence.

Amy exits the serving line with a swipe of her Student ID and pauses to snag a carton of milk before looking around for a place to sit. Spotting Adrian and the other girl, she veers in their direction.

"Hmm, so that's why I decided to come over to this table," Jordan says, faking a look of enlightenment. "Ah … I don't think so. I've not really tried, as I feel that it's not something you just … practice, ethically. Does that make you uncomfortable?" She seems curious from an information standpoint. "Could be good eating. Too bad they'd never serve them here?" A hint of irony in her voice.
She nods then. "And it all depends on what you're training for …" she trails off, leaning back in her seat. "Think? Of course they're necessary for protecting your identity … and why not a label that provides information - or disinformation - instead of something more arbitrary? I admit, there's something a bit melodramatic about the whole idea, but on the other hand, it resonates on an archetypal level …" She seems to have no self-consciousness about rambling. "I suppose that comes down to, I like them." This speech done, she notices Amy moving through and flashes a quick smile.

Adrian spies one of his fellow Rider Hall roomies walking in their direction and waves his pencil-holding hand at her. He uses a foot to nudge a chair out before reguarding Jordan again. "Mind reading? Yeah… it's not a far leap from that to mind control," the boy says, which, by his tone is a subject he's possibly familiar with and doesn't much like. "Not uncomfortable uncomfortable, but… I don't know, just some people on campus that I'm not entirely certain share your ethical opinion on the subject." He's possibly being a little harsh there towards the party in question who isn't here to defend herself.
Jordan's assessment of codenames has Adrian grinning more. "I'm thinking about 'Lockdown'… been circling around a couple since last week, but that one just has sort of a nice ring to it to me." A nod to Amy, "Hey Amy, this is Jordan. Jordan, Amy. Amy, Jordan." Adrian has a sketchbook open to a page where the boy has been working on what appears to be a costume design in shades of green. A box of art supplies sits open on the table near the book.

"Hey Adrian." Amy smiles, nodding to the boy as she sets her tray of soup, salad and roast beef sandwich down on the table. "Nice to meet ya, Jordan." she says to Jordan with another smile before sitting down and starting on her salad. "What kind of ethical problems are we discussing?" she asks, an impish gleam in her eyes as she looks back and forth between the two. "And..Lockdown? That's…different." Amy smirks teasingly. "That meant to be your costume?" she inquires, craning her neck to get a better look at Adrian's drawing.

"I'm sure there are," Jordan says. "We all have different boundaries." She smiles a bit wryly. "Except you have to remember, there are ways to do both without using powers." She returns to her meal for a moment, frowning faintly. "I have to maintain rigorous ethical standards," she says. "I know myself. I could fall fast if I weren't in control." The way she says this leaves no doubt there's little risk of that - as long as it's up to her. To Amy, she explains, "Mind reading and its connections to mind control. Have an opinion?" She seems genuinely curious.
"Lockdown is interesting. Has a forceful flavor to it. Could also apply to paralysis, though." Turning back to Amy, she adds, "Oh, and it's good to meet you."

"Paralysis. Didn't think of that," Adrian says to Jordan, "That's good though… there being an alternate meaning. Might confuse the bad guys, give them the wrong idea. I mean, if they know my thing is turning off their powers they're more likely to want to avoid me or take me out first in a combat situation. At least for a little while I've got some anonymity." Adrian shrugs and slides his sketchbook over where Amy can see it. The drawing is actually pretty good. Not art gallery standards, but Adrian has at least some passing talent where art is concerned. "I guess it's meant to be my costume, sure. Not that I have a clue where to actually get something like this made, but hey. Gotta start somewhere."
Adrian frowns slightly at Jordan's self-assessment of her potential to fall. "I think that's sort of why they have us all required to take Heroism and Ethics. Not that it did a whole lot of good for a couple of former graduates, as I understand it. That's, um, a whole 'nother conversation though." He falls quiet, deciding to actually quit picking at his food and actually eat some of it.

"Mind reading and its connections to mind control." Amy repeats slowly, pausing to nibble at a fork full of salad and sip some milk before smirking, merriment in her eyes. "Think that could get this student, at least." she says, pointing towards herself in some _very_ hot water, _very_ quickly." she grins, eyebrows wiggling. "But it's good to know that you're not like that." she adds, nodding to Jordan. "Cause someone who could do that and didn't care about doing the right thing would be _really_ scary." she says.
Adrian's comment about super hero fashion draws a chuckle from the blond-streaked brunette. "Heh, I bet they've got shops somewhere that sell them." she smirks. "Like Cato for Crimefighters or something."

"If what you're striving for is the illusion of harmless, you could name yourself Saran Wrap," Jordan replies, then turns more thoughtful. "That makes sense. And mmm. I guess you would be a primary target." This draws a frown from the young woman, then, "No class is going to divert someone from a course they intend to take. It will just give them information to choose with open eyes."
She chuckles at Amy's words, lifting a hand up as if to cover her eyes. "Would I not want to know what you're thinking?" she quips, low alto voice amused. "Every power is frightening, applied the right way. I find the fact that so many people have such a visceral reaction to the idea of telepathy sort of - intriguing?" She makes a face; that's not the word she wants. "It's certainly not the worst thing thing I can think of. But they might do," she agrees with Amy, addressing Adrian again. "There are several students here who are descendants of a line, they might know who to refer you to."

Adrian laughs, grinning at Jordan. "Not necessarily harmless," he determines, after swallowing a mouthful of dinner. "Look out villains! Saran Wrap is here! That'd be hillarious." He shakes his head. No, that wouldn't do. But it is highly amusing to him. He pulls his sketchpad back looking at it. "Cato for Crimefighters… yeah, there's got to be something out there. Where do all the heroes get their costumes otherwise? Maybe some eccentric little lady with huge glasses like in The Incredibles." A nod to Jordan, "I'll ask around, because if it's left up to me to make a costume I might as well just stick with my Thunderdome uniform and the cheap mask I bought at Michael's Arts and Crafts."
Adrian smiles at Amy, "What, you got a dirty mind or something, Sparky?" The boy frowns, however, "Might want to be careful around Tyche. She might be fine, but the ghost in her head, well… I don't know if that lady has any morals." Yeah, good job Adrian. Spill personal secrets that a girl told you in confidence. Of course, he's mad at her right now, so that has a lot to do with his not caring if it gets back to her. Though, this could give Amy some insight into the cheerful explosion in the Rider Hall Common Area that she witnessed. "Any power could be used equally for good or evil, hell, take mine for instance… I'm sure some villains would love to be able to get their hands on that kind of…" Adrian trails off. It's like a lightbulb just went off in his head by the look on his face.

“Eh, I think it's just the thought of losing control of my mind." Amy replies to Jordan, munching thoughtfully. "I mean, it's okay when _I_ do it." she smirks. "But the thought of someone else, like, controlling me like puppet freaks me right the hell out." she nods.
"Saran Wrap?" Amy chuckles. "Well, it'd make your costume easier to make, that's for sure. Just have to be sure to wear shorts or get arrested for indecent exposure." she winks. "And for the record, both of you, many people have tried to peer into the inner workings of the mind of Amy. All those who have succeeded, regretted it big time." she grins with mock malevolence. "And _don't_." she adds, giving Adrian a playful little kick at his shins. "Call me Sparky!"

"Well, also you'd expect someone with the codename Saran Wrap to be transparent … in a metaphorical sense if not a literal one," Jordan ponders. "Is it a large enough market to hold up a storefront? And can you imagine the difficulty of getting insurance for a place like that?" These thoughts are more interesting than her dinner, certainly. "No capes! And let me know what you find. Just … in case." She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, betraying a hint of discomfort.
… which completely dissolves as Adrian continues. She leans in, expression fascinated. "Ghost in her head? An actual spirit, or a psychic remnant? I wonder what that must be like?" The thoughts visibly spark in her eyes, dancing around and not noticing that this might have been a breach of confidence. Amy pulls her away from the subject, albiet briefly. "That I do understand. It's loss of self. It's … creepy," she concludes, with a wry look, then holds up her hands as if defensive. "If I ever need a target to practice on, I promise I won't call you."
Beat, and she glances back to Adrian. "… what?"

Whatever thought had Adrian pausing is cast aside as Amy kicks at his shins. He pulls his leg away just in time to avoid actual contact, but grins at the girl. "Okay, okay… no Sparky." Jordan's question is strategically ignored in favor of the lighter conversational notes. "No, see, then I'd be 'Indecent Exposure Man' and my themesong could be 'The Streak'," Adrian says laughing. He finishes off the chicken special and the last of his potatoes, picking at the fruit bowl that is his dessert. Now he does answer, "Just… well, I figured most of campus heard about it by now. It's not that big of a campus and stuff like this gets around, but Mariscka and I were sort of kidnapped for a few days. They, um, drew some blood, had me using my powers… experimenting. Sunday burned the place down, but, what if there is a group out there… you know, planning on using my DNA for nefarious purposes. You don't kidnap people just for kicks." He shrugs a shoulder, then clears his throat, focussing in on the fruit bowl. Subject change! "So, um… Jordan, you like music? There's a concert downtown tomorrow night… and I've got a couple of tickets…"

"Oh yeah….That bunch." Amy replies, polishing off the last of her salad and starting to alternate between her sandwich and her soup. "It's a possibility, I guess." she nods, frowning thoughtfully as she chews. "Maybe they're trying to figure out what it is that makes Neos DNA different from regular humans…" she muses. Jordan's comment about practice draws a smile as she dips up another spoonful of soup. "Probably a good idea." she nods. "I still have kind of a tendency to zap people when I get freaked out. Or at least, their phones and stuff." she chuckles. The invitation to the concert draws a little smile from the girl, who sighs. "Love is in the air.." she croons softly.

"Oh. I'd only heard rumors, no specifics." Jordan sounds a bit subdued at this. "I'm sorry to bring it up. But of course, you know that there's no special onus on you if they *do* make something of your samples?" Her tone is forceful on this. "Though I agree with Amy that it's more likely a scientific exploration, given the circumstances under which your powers work." She flicks a wry look to Amy. "If you zapped my phone, my mother would storm up here and yank me out of school for having been that close to a 'dangerous neohuman.'" There is a percentage to which that is a joke and a percentage … not.
Jordan's grey eyes cross Adrian's face, widening slightly in surprise. "Do I like music? What would I do if you said yes, but only death metal and country western?" But her quip is disrupted by Amy, and she pinks … just a little, but she's pale enough that it stands out. "No, seriously … I'd really like to."

"Right. Right…" Adrian nods, "You're probably right. Just scientific research." His lips quirk upwards. This is better than some of the conspiracy theories. Honestly… Sunday thinks his Dad has something to do with it. Hah. "What our parents don't know won't hurt us," Adrian says sagely, "and won't get us dragged back home by our ears." He closes his art box, and gathers up his sketchbook. The grin on his face widening as Jordan accepts his invitation. "If you said you only liked death metal and country western, I'd be even more intrigued to find out more about you… because wow, what a bizarre juxtaposition those two genres are! Great… so, um… tomorrow night. What dorm are you in? I'll swing by at six and we'll have time to grab a bite to eat before the concert?" He just grins at Amy and it's his turn to try to shin-kick under the table as she croons.

Amy chuckles and moves her leg away before she takes a foot to the shins. "Heh, wait til Jordan's mom finds out about you two." she giggles throatily. "Or yours." she adds, eyes dancing with barely suppressed mirth. "She doesn't strike me as the type to have much patience for that sort of thing." she snerks. "She'll drag you home by your earlobe."
"Well, if we ever do spar together in Thunderdome, Jordan, just be sure to leave it in the locker room and it oughta be okay."

It's probably what Jordan would do if she ever kidnapped someone, but we don't need to go there. She chuckles, flashing a warm smile in response. "Then I'm afraid to disappoint, because I don't think I've heard more than three country western songs in my life. Sorry?" Which begs the question about the death metal. "Yes, that would be great. I'm in Prentiss. Six would be great." She pauses, adds a bit sheepishly, "So would a thesaurus. I'll see you then?"
She shakes her head at Amy. "Nothing to find out about," she points out, amused, "but if there *were*, he turns powers off. I think my mother would be in favor of that." She considers the last part. "The phone or the music?" she quips.

"Nah, my Mom would be thrilled that I was doing something normal like dating," Adrian says to Amy, his own eyes twinkling. He puts his art supplies in the bright orange backpack that was tucked under his seat up until now. "That's why I'm working out the secret identity thing. Because I don't want to get dragged home by my earlobe. Not that she won't know, but this will at least give me plausible deniability." He grins at Jordan as he stands up and slings the backpack over his shoulder. "Prentiss. Six o'clock. Thesaurus in hand?" He glances between the two girls, "Uh… you should have your powers back by morning, Jordan. If not sooner." He picks up his tray, "You two have a good night."

"Heh, good point." Amy replies, nodding as she picks her sandwich backs up and makes short work of the few bites that remain. "Hadn't thought of it that way, but you're probably dead on nuts." she chuckles, mopping her lips with a napkin. "See ya, Adrian." she adds, giving the boy a little wave.
"The phone and the music, if you're fond of your CD player or MP3 player or whatever you listen to it through." Amy chuckles to Jordan. "So how long have you been here?" she asks, tucking away the rest of her soup.

"Should I be offended that going on a date with me is considered normal?" Jordan wonders in a sotto voce, delicately pitched to carry. She bobs her head to that statement. "No problem, I have to think to activate them, so … all is normal. Good night, Adrian. Thesaurus in hand," she concludes, before turning to Amy. "So you control electricity, then?" she wonders. "Or electronics?" She takes a sip of her soda before answering the question. "Since the start of the spring semester. I stay quiet, generally."

"Electricity." Amy replies, bobbing her head a little and settling back to sip at her milk. "When it first kicked on, every time I took a shower, every fuze in the place blew at the same time." she chuckled. "Just got here a few weeks ago, myself, still trying to get my head around this place." she smiles faintly.

Jordan winces in sympathy. "That had to be unnerving," she says. "Not to mention wearing on the hygiene." She nods then. "It's a lot to take in - and the people who have been here a whilee treat it as if there's nothing unusual. You have to completely shift your point of view, in some respects. But liking it thus far?" A slight tilt of her head.

"Heh, nah, just learned to shower in the dark." Amy chuckles. "You time it right, you've got plenty of hot water, too." she smiles. "You ain't kidding about shifting your point of view. Now I know what Xavier's school must've been like." she chuckles again, "But, yeah, I am. Got my own room, food's good, place isn't too strict, I can use the pool whenever I want. Now if we can just do something about those pesky classes, this'd be heaven."

"Or that," Jordan concedes. "I guess I've never had to worry about blowing things up. It might be more interesting …" she trails off. "It's a stretch, but it seems that there are a lot of allies for the finding." A wry smile. "So will you stop talking to me if I say that I enjoy the classes and am looking forward to the fall? Or is it one class in particular that's getting your back up?"

Amy makes a rude noise with her lips. "Heh, well, you do live _here_, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised if you're maybe just a little bit cracked." Amy teases, chuckling. "Just never been a big fan of school." she shrugs. "Figure, you spend the first,what, five, six years of your life with everyone encouraging you to start talking, stand up, start walking. Then you go to school and the first they tell you is to sit down and shut up." she smirks. "Not that I don't like learning, just like to do it at my own speed and about the stuff that I'm interested in, ya know?" she shrugs. "Yeah, there must be a lot of very deep pockets to keep an outfit like this going, even with the tuition being what it is."

"If that is the only way I am cracked, then I am positively normal." A faint smile twitches Jordan's lips. "Oh, I understand - the strictures of academia sometimes hinder learning more than they help, especially when you consider that the best way to truly learn something is to pass it on. But I do enjoy most of what they teach." She tilts her head. "Yeah, and I wonder about that. Any large donor will have the opportunity to pull strings and influence people, if they feel inclined …" She finishes the last of her dinner roll - it must be cold by now - and slides away from her chair. "I should probably go. Got some reading to finish and …" She looks, abruptly, a little lost. "… raid my closet, I guess. Have a good evening, Amy? Glad to meet you."

"Like wise." Amy smiles, rising and collecting her tray, dropping the empty milk carton on top. "Have fun on your date, I don't see you before." she adds. "Good luck with your classes."

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