For all the business and people that came to Coney Island during the season it was just as dead during the winter. Standing on the boardwalk, Paul looked out over the surf that rolled in to crash white capped against the beach. It was cold out... extremely cold if he had to be honest but with his leather jacket and a black knit cap Paul felt relatively warm. It still wasn't an ideal situation but since he hadn't had anywhere else to be for Christmas he had decided to explore the city. For most people this was a special day of celebration with family and friends so most of the city was shut down which left everything with a quietness and emptiness that was a little unnerving.

Turning, Paul began to walk down the lonely stretch of boardwalk. His thoughts were turned inward to memories of Christmas' past but his steps remained steady and strong. He was a man used to memories and he had already begun to learn how to keep them from affecting him. He was relatively young on the 'immortal' scale, especially compared to the two he had met several years before, but that didn't mean he hadn't already learned some of the same basic lessons.

Leaving the boardwalk his smooth confident stride carried him down the sidewalk until he paused as a tempting scent wafted through his nostrils. Turning he found himself standing in front of a place called "Peggy Oneills". "Well... even if its Christmas I still gotta eat." He murmured with a slight smile before walking through the door and into the restaurant.

A waxed wood floor, nice wooden tables and chairs, and typical Irish decorations were all around the space. It was obviously influenced as an Irish Pub in some ways but with several posters about their hot dogs it was clear they marked to a different crowd as well.

"Just have a seat anywhere you'd like." A server said from behind the bar, "Would you like a bottled or draft beer while you look at the menu?"

"You pick what your most popular draft is... I'll try that." He said after a moment thought before turning and walking over to one of the many empty four-top tables in the middle. There were a few other people in the restaurant but not to many... as expected most were at home for Christmas. "Merry Christmas." Paul murmured when the chilled glass was set down in front of him. Taking a sip he set the glass back down and smile wryly to himself, "Merry Christmas indeed."

Christmas was not a good time of year for Masque.  All of those images of happy families, lights and the gifting of presents were painful reminders of the life he used to have and would never have back again.  The Christmas of his childhood had been a time of joyous celebration.  He'd see all his relatives, open tons of presents and eat what was often the meal of the year.  Those stopped when he was found out to be a mutant, however, and it had been many years since he had enjoyed a Christmas like that. 

Once his mutation developed, Christmas was normally spent at home alone.  Loving parents that they were, and such was meant with utmost sarcasm, his parents would still give him his yearly gifts and then they and his brother would leave for the rest of the festivities leaving Masque alone and often crying in his room.  After all, his family couldn't be seen to have a mutant son because god forbid their reputation be sullied in such a fashion.  Year after year they kept up the charade and those past happy memories faded into bitter dust.

Once his freedom had been one, Christmas did not much improve for Masque.  Sure, he was now free to see who he liked and walk where he liked but what was Christmas without loved ones to share it with?  He no longer had a family nor any friends and so he was still forced to spend it alone and miserable.  At least people were generous during that time of year, but such was small consolation.

Now living at the Mansion, this was the first year in a very long time Masque had the opportunity to spend Christmas with others.  As it turned out, his story wasn't so unusual and there were a number of other orphans and more unfortunate living there.  The happiness of those around him, however, only served to drive him deeper into his state of melancholy.  So he left and hopped on a bus to Coney Island.  What he needed was some time to himself and wandering the streets of Coney Island seemed as good an option as any.

Masque's human mask was far from perfect but in his experience, so long as people didn't have reason to intentionally look at him most simply glossed over the oddities like his painted eyebrows and colours that weren't quite natural.  As such, his walk was a quiet one which eventually ended at a small restaurant called Peggy Oneills.  Realizing, after hours of wandering, just how hungry he was Masque wandered inside and sat down, taking a look around at the few people in the restaurant.  After a couple of minutes the server walked over and asked if he'd like a drink and he pointed at beer listed on the menu.  It was nice, for the first time in years, to have the money not to have to worry about eating out.

The 'Coney Hot Dog' was a culinary work of art covered with bacon and nacho cheese. There had originally been two on the plate, along with a generous portion of sweet potato fries, but one of them was already half gone. Chewing thoughtfully, Paul glanced up when he heard the door swing open and yet another person make their way into the restaurant. At first glance there seemed to be nothing unusual and so Paul went back to his food but as he ate something seemed to be tickling at the back of his mind. Swallowing the last bite of his first hot dog, Paul lifted his eyes and focused his gaze on the new arrival with a little more interest. Over his long life he had learned to trust his instincts and something wasn't quite right. From the slight distance it wasn't immediately obviously but slowly it began to come into focus. The colors and pigmentation of the skin weren't quite right and the eyebrows seemed to be more of a paint than actual hair.

Taking a swallow of his beverage, Paul continued to study the person over the rim of his cup. Either this was an extremely strange looking human that enjoyed to much makeup or it was a mutant and since the individual was alone on Christmas Day just like himself Paul would have been willing to put money on the latter. Well Christmas wasn't a good time to be alone if it could at all be helped, and right here was an opportunity for both of them though only one of them had realized it.

Picking up his plate and his half filled glass, Paul stood and made his way over to the other person's table. He was having difficulty deciding whether the person was male or female though certain movements and the shape of the face made him lean toward the person being on the masculine side. "Hello... I'm Paul McCoy." He introduced himself with a smile as he sat down without any invitation. When you weren't sure exactly how to act, boldness was often the right choice. "I think we might both have a similar genome if you know what I mean. So, do you just enjoy hot dogs or is it that you don't have anyone else to spend Christmas with?"

After a few minutes of waiting the waitress returned with Masque's drink and he pointed at an item on the menu for her to bring him.  It had been ages since he'd had a good smokey and that seemed just the thing for tonight.  So what if he was stuck living through another all too depressing Christmas, at least he was going to make the best of it with good food and drink.  Maybe it was time that he stop reveling in the depression that had been his constant companion for so many years and start embracing the recent changes in his life.  After all, was it not the case that things were finally starting to look up for the first time in ages?  The Mansion had been an unexpected blessing and it was actually seeming to turn out to be real and not some cruel illusion.  So far, anyway.

"Hello... I'm Paul McCoy."

Deep in thought, Masque didn't' immediately the man come up to his table and sit down.  Unexpected though it was, he didn't seem threatening and Masque didn't take any offense to the stranger sitting down without invitation.  He smiled and inclined his head, reaching into his jacket pocket for his pen and notebook.  The words to follow, however, made him question whether or not he should use conventional and slower means of communication or he should take advantage of the fact that he was a mutant and, apparently, so was this stranger.  It wasn't as if he was keeping some great secret, although sometimes people found words appearing on skin to be somewhat startling.

In a moment of impulse, Masque decided against convention and instead rolled up a sleeve and his usually neat black writing appeared after a moment's thought onto his arm.  'Hello.  My name is Masque.  I hope you don't mind unconventional communication."  Writing by hand was slow and clumsy, writing by mutation allowed for words to appear nearly as quickly as thought and disappear just as quickly.  

The silent stretched out for a few moments as the individual in front of him smiled and then reached into his jacket for something. For a brief moment Paul wondered if he was going to be attacked for sitting down at this person's table but when their hand came out empty it left him feeling just the slightest bit confused. Why was he just smiling without saying anything?

As words began to appear on his skin, Paul found himself smiling in amusement. "Well met Masque. Unconventional communication is fine by me since I've had my own share of unconventional moments through my life."

Lifting his glass, Paul took another swallow as he tried to decide what course he should guide their conversation along. He didn't want to offend his new acquaintance by asking about their voice or mutation in general but surely there was some sort of safe topic they could discuss.

"So what brings you out on Christmas day? Are you new to the city so you don't really have any friends yet or were you just looking to try and escape today's festivities?" He asked before taking a bite of his hot dog and chewing thoughtfully, "I guess for myself Christmas has to many memories associated with it so its better to just make myself scarce."

The man seemed friendly enough.  Why couldn't he have met more people early in his life who weren't inclined to judge harshly at first glance?  Life would have been very different if his parents had lacked judgement.  Then again, even if the stranger looked normal enough he'd admitted to being a mutant and it seemed that was the difference between him and his parents.  His parents were human and therefore he was their secret shame.

The waitress arrived one more time, this time with Masque's food.  Before replying he took an eager bite, quite satisfied with the fare he was given.  'I guess you could say I'm looking to escape the day's festivities,' Masque answered.  He had to fight to keep his letters neat and even and force down the emotion that bubbled up at the thought.  'Its not really a good time for me.'

Taking another drink, Masque thought it best to change the subject to one, perhaps, less depressing.  He knew he certainly had negative memories associated with the season and the hint seemed to be that Paul might as well.  'If its not rude to ask, what is your power?  Mine is kind of obvious."  He grinned at the man and his face flashed through a myriad of colours from red to blue and then back to normal.

The mutants who considered Christmas a good time for them were few and far between so Masque's statement wasn't that much of a surprise. Nodding his understanding Paul took another bite of his second dog. It was disapearing far to fast for his liking though there were all of those fries that he still had to attack... none the less if this were his stand in for a Christmas feast then he might just have to place another order.

"I come back to life after dieing." Paul replied simply after he had swallowed his bite of food. There wasn't any reason to try and explain all the nuances of his powers to Masque, especially since he didn't necessarily understand every bit of it himself. "Don't know if its true immortality or not but I've been around for quite a long time."

Looking around, Paul made sure that their conversation was going to remain private. While there were other people in the restaurant there were still plenty of empty tables around them. "How long have you been in New York? This is actually my third time here over the years though I've only been back for a few months this time."

Over in the corner he could see two men conversing relatively quietly and at the bar there were two more men and one woman all eating their meals without looking at each other. Nothing seemed out of place and for the moment Paul could feel some of his normal watchfulness slipping away. He knew that as a mutant he was never completely safe but for the moment he could feel at least somewhat relaxed.