Jack went to the gym to return a sense of normalcy to her life. After the incident with Victor, and the incident with Sam, that was precisely what Jack craved. A sense of normalcy. She would push her body to its limits, physically, and thereby expunge any remainder of stress that the wacky hijinks had left inside of her. She walked to the front desk, flashed her membership card.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Dyer,” the secretary greeted cheerily, giving Jack a toothy, slightly uneasy smile, “How are you today?”

“Good a’ternoon,” Jack replied with a nod, “Doing well. T’anks.”

They returned her card, and Jack padded into the main area of the gym, bee-lining for the dressing room and sparing them the awkward conversation. The locker room was decently-sized. The first room you entered into was full of lockers, off of which branched a restroom and a showering area. By the sounds of it, two ladies were chattering loudly in the shower-area, while another was prepping for her work-out in front of the restroom mirror. Jack huffed, antenna twitching, and sauntered towards her locker.

Once over there, she dropped her bag on the ground, and hunkered onto the bench in front of her locker. Just don’t make eye contact, she assured herself, they’ll leave you alone. The prawn spun the dial of her combination lock a few times, and began keying-in her code.

Swimming was always a peaceful, meditative activity for Zinnia. The changing rooms afterwards, not so much. She was in the shower, rinsing away the strong scent of chlorine when NoisyLady started talking. It was impossible to tell without a visual if she was talking to a person or on the phone. Either way there were far too many “and then I was like… and then he was like…”s for the other person to be getting much of a say.

Zinnia lathered with a cinnamon and cloves bodywash. It was unapologetically targeted at women of her colour, on the verge of being racist, but it smelled so good she just couldn’t resist.

Scrub scrub

“…And then I was like, ‘well, if you didn’t want him to park his car in another garage then you should have been focussing on your glutes not your career...’”

Ugh, Gymbos. Like Bimbos, but with more kale and crossfit.

“Then she was like ‘you should know better than to sleep with a married man’ and I was like ‘beeeeach, I’m not the one who’s married, he should know better’, y’know?”

The murmered agreement made her more confident that there was another person, and this was not a phonecall. Zinn rolled her eyes and rinsed off. She was wrapping a towel around her hair, another already around her body, when the fussing started. And the giggling.

“This is the ladies room. You can’t be in here. GuyFreak.”

Now, bullying was something she simply couldn’t abide. Everyone deserved to use the bathroom in peace, and she was sick and tired of people making it their business to give trans people a hard time. She huffed out of the cubicle, showershoes slapping on the floor dissaprovingly. From where she was standing she couldn’t see the woman the Gymbos were mocking, but in her mind’s eye she had a clear image of someone just months into their transition. God she hoped they were wearing pants, otherwise her whole argument would be invalid.

“Can you see my bits?!” The gymbos looked at her, startled. “Can I see your bits?! No? Well, since no one can see any bits, who are you to say she’s not a girl? Sod off and take a STI test you grot.”


She seemed to channel her British dad when it came to scolding and insults.

She caught sight of the object of the bullying now, past gymbo 2. Ah. Well, it would seem the problem wasn’t that she was trans. Just that she was a hugemongous mutant, with two sets of arms. Still… no reason to call her a GuyFreak, even if she was taller than any lady Zinn had ever seen.

Ka-chunk. The lock was unlatched, and the prawn deftly unsheathed it, setting the combination lock atop the collection of lockers. With that, Jack casually began to strip. First, came the hoodie, which she unzipped, removed, and draped atop the locker. Next, she removed the tank top, sliding it off over her head in one, practiced motion. Jack was in the process of unfastening her belt when Raptor-Lady came screeching after her.

>> “This is a ladies’ room. You can’t be in here, GuyFreak.”

Jack glanced around as she unbuckled her belt and, spying no one, realized she was the “GuyFreak” in question. Jack stretched her secondary pair of arms, and surveyed the two toweled women with a droll, half-lidded gaze. Jack couldn’t care enough to smart-off to the lady, seeing as she often got this type of reception in a gendered place, like the women’s restroom. Unless authorities got involved, she really didn’t care. Even so, another woman hastily charged to her defense, without so much as seeing the prawn in-question.

>> “Can you see my bits?! Can I see your bits?! No? Well, since no one can see any bits, who are you to say she’s not a girl? Sod off and take a STI test you grot.”

Meanwhile, Jack continued her undressing, sliding-off her pants, and standing in nothing more than her boxers. The pair of shirts was sat atop the lockers with the remainder of her clothes. Jack sat down to rifle through her bag, fishing out her swim trunks. The Brave Defender rounded the corner, catching full view of the boxers-wearing prawn.

She was an attractive woman with light tan skin. As soon as she caught sight of Jack, her mouth formed a delicate “o”, and her expression filled with what the prawn interpreted to be the look of someone caught on their unawares—a deer in the headlights. Jack understood the connotations of the exchange. She wasn’t supposed to be gender-ambiguous shrimp-beast. The poor woman had probably assumed Jack was a masculine-but-human-looking individual. Jack’s mutation kind-of threw a wrench into the whole rescuing scheme.

“I don’t need to ‘roove* sh-t to you,” Jack said flatly, flicking a quick glance towards the indignant gym-goer before she began to transfer her street clothes into the locker, draping them off of the hangers inside, “You got an issue wit’ me, take it to da runt** desk. Dey know who I an. Dey know where I should go.”

Jack rose to her full seven-and-a-half feet, and slid off her boxers and kicked them aside. She then slid into her swim trunks. Jack tied her swim trunks, tossed the boxers into her locker, retrieved her towel out the bag, zipped her bag closed, and then stuffed the bag into the locker. Bam, locker closed. Snap, locker locked. Finally, the prawn gave the aggressors her full attention, and unflinching lavender stare that burnt hole into them. Her pupils were thing, incensed slits. Back straight and shoulders square, she closed the distance between them. Jack needed to rinse-off before she swam, and they were in the way. The prawn was full of indignant, furious, petty quips, but had no urge to utter them. Jack wanted so badly to lecture them, but it would be like shouting at a brick wall. She wouldn't give them the delight of getting a reaction out of her.

“Excuse 'e,” she growled tersely, without waiting for them to move aside. She politely stepped around the Brave Defender, but might have scraped past the aggressors en route to the showers.

*prove
**front

The woman looked something like a crab, something like a beetle, and she was totally awesome. Zinn did her best not to stare, but she was Just. So. Shiny. Something childlike wanted to grab her, and rotate her under the light to see if she changed colours like a beetle, or duck feathers. Something adultlike told her it was inappropriate to grab people in a bathroom. Whilst clad only in towel to the power of 2.

She was staring. And her mouth was open. Smooth.

She snapped it shut as the shiny lady unashamedly swapped boxers for swimmers. Yep, there would definitely be no proving today. The NoisyLady, for once, was silent, it was her lacky that made a long vowel sound. It was either ‘e’, or ‘u’. Difficult to tell. The eyes that turned on the duo were purple (Purple!), and filled with something like loathing. Or something like cuddles, who could tell with eyes so different to the norm? Zinn guessed loathing. That was the emotion she personally felt towards them.

“Excuse 'e,”

The massively tall woman sidled past Zinnia and made no apparent effort to avoid the gymbos. They did their best to skitter aside, but it was a narrow passway and there were two of them, and she was huge. The vowel changed pitch to somewhat higher and morphed into words.

“It’s crunchy!”

The pair, deciding that there was distinctly too much weirdness snatched their bags from their lockers and disappeared into the adjacent restroom, which had a door. Probably so they could rant and squirm and make overdramatic shuddering motions without retribution. Or to put on their stuff and get out. Either way was fine by her.

It was at this point that she noticed the other woman in the changeroom, silently tying her laces with a distinct look of this is too weird on her face. She made eye contact with Zinn.

“Yer drippin’.”

So she was. And her neatly arranged clothes were in the shower cubical next to the one with antennae poking over the top. She gave a hurried towelling and struggled into her sweatpants. Damp skin and grippy cloth made this much harder than it needed to be. She briefly envied the crunchy one her smooth swish into the swimmers. But then again, it would be super hard to be a visible mutant. Having non-visible mutation meant she mostly went unpestered by small minds such as the ones in the restroom.
“Are you alright? People suck.”

Crunchy seemed tough, but sometimes tough on the outside meant soft and vulnerable on the inside. Where the feelings are. She wished she had been reviewing mental health that week, and not snakebites.

There was a squeal as Jack slid past—oops, apparently she had kind of scraped past the two women—and the observation that the prawn was “crunchy”. At least the aggressors got out of the way though. Jack huffed, shaking her head, as she padded down the tiled walkway to the sectioned-off showers. The prawn heaved a sigh and ducked beneath the beam that held the stalls in-place. The shower where Jack had made her retreat was towards the far end of the row.

She draped her towel over the high crossbeam of the stall, and hunched low beneath the shower head. She couldn’t cause any more trouble if they couldn’t see her.

The initial stream of water was a cold, unsympathetic blast. The prawn made a noise of discomfort, and quickly turned the nob towards the warmer water. As soon as the water warmed, Jack ducked beneath the stream, turning her head this way and that, eyes closed. Over the harsh stream of water, she barely heard the approaching footsteps. Jack opened her eyes, glancing towards the entrance of the stall. She first expected that she was going to get jumped by the boisterous aggressors—which was uncharacteristic of their… demographic… but Jack would be the last person to underestimate the stupidity of a mutant-hater.

>> “Are you alright? People suck.”

That was a surprise. Rather than another attack, someone was making conversation with her from the other side of the stall. Jack rose, glancing over to see the source of the voice. The Brave Defender. The mutant shouldered a shrug, nodding her head to the side. Her expression was coolly humored.

“Honestly, I’n used to it,” Jack assured the young women, her tone aloof, “As you say, dey suck.” People, that is. “People” was a hard word for Jack. And she figured that saying “hue-nans suck” would be the perfect way to offend someone who’d just stuck their neck out for you.

Jack ducked beneath the shower again, rubbing her hand over her arm to scrape away any potential grime.

“Also… sank you,” the prawn rumbled, her “thanks” lingering awkwardly in the air. Even if the lady was unintentionally putting herself out there for a mutant, it was still much appreciated. Jack hunched down again, rolling her head under the warm stream of water. The water felt good on her neck, but the prawn tried not to dwell on the sensation for too long. Thoroughly rinsed, she shut the water off, grasping for her towel.

Zinnia’s head popped through her T-shirt just in time to make eye contact with the head that was poking above the stall. Wow, she was really tall. And apparently frequently bullied for her appearance. Unfortunately this didn’t come as that much of a surprise. She often saw the nasty end of fights based on differences, be it religion, race or x-gene, when she was stitching the fighters up.

Just because something happened often didn’t mean that it was ok. Being told the same hurtful thing over and over could still hurt the hundredth time. The mutant thanked her and returned to scrubbing. Her accent was interesting, Zinn couldn’t place it. Perhaps English was her second language, perhaps her vocal cords were too busy being in a body of awesomeness to slide words out smoothly. Zinn was so focused on her inner thoughts that she let the thanks hang just a little too long. Thankyous are like comebacks, or pun battles, you sort of have to respond in three seconds or it just feels weird. Zinnia didn’t mind weird.

“No problem. Muties need to stick up for each other.”

Even if they didn’t know the person they were sticking up for. Or that they were a mutant.

“Actually, if they’re not putting themselves in danger everyone should stick up for each other. Bullying is bad.” And mean. And thankfully not something she had had to deal with much with herself as the target, but she knew others had it much harder, her younger brothers included.

“My name is Zinnia.” Beat for reply of her name, push on if no response. “Would you like to get a coffee after?”

After her swim, after her shower, whatever, Zinn had a whole day off. Well, off in the way that is she had studying to do, but this was a much more fascinating scenario than anything in the textbook. She had questions, only some of them medical.

She would also understand if the woman just wanted to be left alone. The needle could swing too far the opposite way to loathing, and fascination could be just as hurtful. Be cool Zinn, be cool. She dried first one foot, putting on sock then trainer before placing it on the damp floor then the other. Super cool.

>> “No problem. Muties need to stick up for each other.”

Jack quietly ground her mandibles, her expression one of quiet acceptance. Ah, so this woman was one of Jack’s kind. A mutant. No wonder she intervened. Such was the way of things. Jack’s hand found the towel, drying-off her face and taking great care not to snag the loose, towel knit on any of her spiny edges.

>> “Actually, if they’re not putting themselves in danger everyone should stick up for each other. Bullying is bad. My name is Zinnia. Would you like to get a coffee after?”

The prawn didn’t do too thorough of a job toweling herself off, as she was just going to lumber off to the pool, anyways. But the lady was still rambling, partly to herself, and partly to the prawn, so the prawn moved slowly, drying her shoulders and neck. She then draped the towel over her shoulder.

“Jacquelyn,” the prawn replied, nodding her head curtly. Jack only opted for the full, feminine form of her name as the result of the recent calling-her-gender-into-question fiasco. She fidgeted with her towel, murmuring the word “…Caw-hee…” to herself as if speculating the meaning. Who on earth randomly invited other women to coffee, in the locker room, of all places? Albeit, Zinnia was an attractive, young woman, and a mutant at that, but Jack had literally just arrived.

“I would hate to delay anyt’ing,” Jack rumbled noncommittally, “I kinda just got here.”

Her tone was gravelly, and she was glancing towards the exit that led towards the pool. Zinnia had done her the favor of leaping to her defense, so brushing her off would be a bit of a d__k move. But Jack wasn’t about to shrug her workout off, either. She needed her workout.

“It’s a short workout, doh,” she admonished, “We could uh, hrm, get caw-hee later. Sun-where else-” she did the math in her head, for how long the swim might take, then showering-off and changing, “-Takes around… uh, little less den an hour."

Jack still felt rather odd about the whole exchange, but wrote it off as, ‘Maybe this is a thing that normal ladies do, and you’re just so used to being one of the “bros” with the bouncers at Chrysalis, that you just… are out of your element.’

The rainbow-crunchie-lady, Jacquelyn, seemed hesitant, and Zinn realised she might have been coming across a little too strong. Was it weird to invite someone to coffee in a bathroom? When you’ve never seen them before and then immediately seen them naked (even if you didn’t actually see anything)?

It was kinda weird.

Jacquelyn pointed out her unfinished (unstarted!) workout, and Zinn was about to back out, retract her offer, apologise for being weird. While she was trying to think of the right phrasing for ‘I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable in the bathroom’ though the larger mutant offered an alternative, a rescheduling. An hour was cool, she had her textbook in her locker and was supposed to be studying anyway.

“Sounds good. There’s a coffee shop just around the corner The Roasted Bean, do you know it?”

It was close enough to the gym that it was her regular stop, but far enough that she hardly ever saw any other gym-goers frequenting it. Plus it had an excellent iced coffee, sweet but not too creamy. It was mostly frequented by young people. Open-minded conversations were far more interesting to tune into randomly than the general coffee-shop-nonsense touted by the oldies. Added bonus – no babies. Zinn liked kids, and babies too, but they made it hard to concentrate. With their goo-ing and gah-ing and tiny little fingers and toes. Definitely better to not have them around while reading about all the things that could go wrong for them during birth.

“I might see you there.”

It was equally as non-committal, and more importantly non-pressury. She would be there, but Jacquelyn might not feel like coming after her workout- therefore, maybe she would see her, maybe she wouldn’t. The Roasted Bean was also far enough from the gym that you couldn’t see it, so if the rainbow mutant wanted to escape un-coffeed she could do so unwitnessed.

Zinn scooped the contents of her locker out and swung her bag over her shoulder. Study-time. On her way out she made a complaint to the front desk about the gymbos. They noted it, but didn’t make her fill in any paperwork. Sweet. Onwards! To iced coffee goodness and an hour of studying/wondering if Jacquelyn would show up.

>> “Sounds good. There’s a coffee shop just around the corner The Roasted Bean, do you know it?”

“I seen it, yes.”

Jack walked and took public transit everywhere, so she’d been past Roasted Bean before, even without ever going in there. She wasn’t much of a coffee-drinker.

>> “I might see you there.”

“See you dere,” Jack agreed.

Then, the prawn was gone. Off, into the swimming area. It was a few short strides to the door, and the acrid sting of chlorine enveloped her. She relished it. Jack abandoned her towel on a bench along the far wall, found an open lane, and dove in with barely a splash. And, as she swam, she couldn’t swallow the niggling anxiousness at the back of her throat.

***

Fifty three minutes, many laps in the lap pool, and a hot shower later, Jack found herself just across the street from Roasted Bean. The option of making a hasty escape was still sorely tempting. After all, Zinnia hadn’t said she “would” see her there, she said “might”, which suggested that Zinnia half-expected her to bolt.

Like a wuss, Jack’s subconscious chided. Jack growled at her subconscious. I’m not a wuss! I’m just… not… used to doing girly sh_t like this. Jack sighed, adjusting the duffel bag that was slung over her shoulder. You can do this, you can do this.

Jack glanced both ways, then strode across the street. Her eyes swept the outside tables and, not spying a familiar face, she slinked inside. Anxious hands adjusted the duffel bag again, and she smoothed a palm over the front of her hooded sweatshirt. Should she have been wearing something better? Naw, they were just chilling. Right? She couldn’t have known that they were going to get coffee, anyway. Street clothes felt too informal. Baggy cargo shorts, a tank, a hoodie. She looked like a guy. You always look like a guy, you twit. Jack spied Zinnia sitting at a small table, against the wall, textbook opened on the table.

You can do this. The prawn meandered over, gathering her duffle into the arms to avoid accidentally jostling any of the café patrons. She made it to the table without any fantastic accidents and deposited her duffel in the chair.

“Hey,” she greeted, “I’ll go… uh, get sun-t’ting. You want… mmm… any-t’ing?”

She was too flustered to notice if the young woman had a drink or not. Was it hot in here? Jack unzipped her hoodie, slid out of it, and draped it over the back of her chair, as she awaited the young woman’s response.

Zinn was staring at the page, not taking in any information. She had read this chapter already. Mostly she was thinking about whether she should have invited a total stranger to have coffee with her. They were in a public space, and Zinn had invited her, not the other way around. Still she felt just a tickle of stranger danger. Also excitement. This was the mutantest mutant she had ever seen. Perhaps X-genes came in different strengths, hers while useful a mild ‘case’. If her gene was stronger might she have gills? Lungs on the outside? Who knew?

It was these thoughts that distracted her from the entrance of her new acquaintance. There were a few subtle nudges about the café, but nothing outward, nothing said. These were good people, for the most part. Jacquelyn deposited her duffle and Zinn smiled up at her and closed her book. No more vascular system today.

“I’ll go… uh, get sun-t’ting. You want… mmm… any-t’ing?”

Zinn glanced at her empty iced coffee glass and nodded. It was a warm atmosphere in here, and iced coffee season would soon be well and truly over. Plus, she had a free coffee on her card, couldn’t let that go to waste! (Couldn’t let her new friend pay for her either, seeing as how she had invited her after all). She dug in her pocket and pulled out the little piece of cardboard with holes the shape of coffee mugs punched in it.

“If you point at me when you order they’ll know what to make.”

Perhaps she spent a little too much time here. And a little too much on coffee.

As she passed the card she noticed the hands of her large friend. They were fascinating, nothing like any hands she had seen before, and again she was astounded at the lack of mutant-related medical research. If Jacquelyn had had an accident and arrived with an amputated finger, would they even be able to re-attach it? Could sutures pierce her… crunchieness?

A small part of her brain hoped that her mutation didn’t include any mind-reading. Because that was a little bit of a freaky and morbid thing to think about someone you had just met. But the questions swirled around her brain, some not so bad- what blood type could she be? How would her ‘skin’ react to weight gain or loss. Some a little odd – could she get a rash with skin like that? Did she lay eggs?

She kept silent until her new friend had returned. The wait staff would bring the coffees to them if they were at their table. Or pass them over the counter if she waited until they were finished before returning. Either way, her conversation starter was the same.

“So, where are you from?”

She meant what area of the city. She was pretty sure she would have heard about it if aliens had landed. Pretty sure.

>> “If you point at me when you order they’ll know what to make.”

That made ordering a far simpler ordeal. Now, the real trial would be deciding on a drink for herself. Jack nodded to show that she understood, delicately plucking the strange business card from Zinnia’s hands. It had little coffee cup holes in it, Jack noted, as she wandered the line to order. In no time, she was up at the register, and the barista gave her a winning smile. Jack set both of her hands on the counter, drumming her fingers anxiously.

“Good day to you, sir,” the barista greeted. Jack didn’t bother correcting her, “What can I get for you today?”

Jack bumbled through an order, gesturing to Zinnia and mentioning that she would like to order another of whatever-Zinnia-usually-has, handing them the little punch-card. She then ordered a lemon balm tea for herself. The prawn paid for her drink, and was informed that the drinks would be brought to her table when they were ready. Jack bobbed her head, said her thanks, and carefully picked her way back to the chair. Jack slid her bag onto the floor, and carefully folded into the seat. These tables weren’t quite built for tall people, but at least it wasn’t a booth. She could manage, at a table like this.

>> “So, where are you from?”

Of all questions that Jack was unfond of, she liked that one the least. Mostly because she didn’t care to reflect on the past too deeply.

“San ‘rancisco,” she replied lightly, “I cane to New York a couple years ago. Needed a change of scenery. Yet, all large cities seen duh sane.”

Jack would know. She’d frequented Seattle, as a kid, and visited Portland, en route to San Francisco. She’d seen a few major metropolitan areas in her day.

“Here sive years, now,” she explained, holding up five fingers (which took both hands). She realized that, now that the workout was over, she could technically use her phone now… that would probably be more intelligible than Jack’s slurring through a round of Twenty Questions.

Jack fished her phone out of her pocket, and set it on the table.

“I use diss to talk,” she explained, tapping her finger on the phone's case, “Easier to understand. Not so... slurred. Where are you sss-rom?”

The woman indeed indicated an Earth location as her point of origin and Zinn dipped her head in understanding, New York was similar to all large cities more or less, but it was said to be scenic. It’s why there were always tourists flitting about. Personally, having lived there all her life, Zinn didn’t really see the appeal of the city as a tourist attraction. It was just a city, after all and as her friend noted, all big cities seem the same.

She was getting the hang of Jacquelyn’s accent (speech impediment?), the more she said the more Zinn understood. It was a little tricky with no lip-reading to smooth the process, but from what she had seen in the bathroom, Jac didn’t have any lips. Which was a peculiar thought. She couldn’t verify up close, though, because now she was wearing a mask over her mouth. Hopefully out of modesty for the aforementioned lack of lips, than for anything contagious. Surely if she had something catching she wouldn’t be swimming in a public pool.

The crunchie mutant held up her hands to illustrate her point, and Zinn got a good, albeit quick, look at her hands. Fascinating. They looked a little less armoured than the rest of her body, but still tough. Zinn’s brothers owned an assortment of scaley pets, and this was the feeling Zinn assumed Jac’s skin would have. The inside of her hands looked like it would be strong and smooth, something like a snake, where you can feel all the muscle coiled up beneath the scales. The backs of her fingers (digits? Was one of those a thumb? Yes, a thumb.) seemed to be more armoured, like the rest of her, and Zinn was reminded of the shingle-lizard one of the school friends of the young ones had brought over, it’s scales had been hard and generally it felt like an unopened pinecone. That is what, by looking, Zinn decided that Jac felt like. She had already walked the line of social appropriateness by asking her to coffee in the bathroom, she wasn’t now going to turn the line into a dot by being grabby and touching her new friend’s skin. That was definitely weird.

The phone was set on the table and Zinn spared it a glance, she was not against phones on coffee dates, as long as the person she was with wasn’t scrolling through updating their social networks instead of chatting to the real, live person that was occupying the table with them. Jac indicated that this was her translator and Zinn shrugged, she didn’t mind deducting the meaning behind her new friend’s sentences, but had no problem with using the phone either.

“Whatever is easier for you.”

It sounded like there was a lot of effort being put in to make the words understandable, like a person with a stutter, desperately trying to communicate over their impediment. If it was easier to talk through the phone, and practicing wouldn’t make speech easier in the long run, why bother making such an effort for what should be an effortless chat.

“I’m a New Yorker, born but not bred, my Dad is from Britain.” Somewhere near London, but it wasn’t so important. “So if I’m using weird words, I blame him.”

She grinned, it was easier to blame someone else for her turns of phrase, especially when they made people cock their heads in lack of understanding. It happened less now that she was no longer living at home. But still the occasional ‘crisps’ would slip out.

She made an effort not to jump straight into the personal, mutation-related questions. Because it would be impolite. Instead she decided to opt for a far safer, more vanilla question.

“Have you been swimming long?”

Most people she knew that swam dabbled, a few laps here and there when they felt the iiggle on their middle, but mostly more like ‘hang out in our swimmers and chat’. Jac seemed like someone who had a lap target, went, swam them, then went home. A swimmer with purpose. A lane swimmer, not a free area splasher.

Jack set her phone lightly on the table, face down. She couldn't decide on her own, which mode to use. The prawn was just being realistic-- she ws hard to understand for most, especially when she was shuffling consonants around for ones she could actually pronounce. But if Zinnia was polite enough to leave the choice up to Jack, Jack would leave the phone aside, lest the conversation wander into slightly more complex subjects. Or if the restauarant got any louder.

As Zinnia explained her background, Jack sat quietly in her chair, hands folded on her lap. Her chair was a good deal back from the table, but her knees were still beneath it. It was one of those small cafe tables that were intimate for two average-sized folk. For anyone who happened to be over the six-foot mark, they were cramped. It was fine, though, since the cafe wasn't too incredibly crowded.

>> “I’m a New Yorker, born but not bred, my Dad is from Britain. So if I’m using weird words, I blame him.”

"Is okay," Jack assured Zinnia, the corners of her eyes pinching, "I sure I night say a 'hella' or two once in a while."

Jack actually never said "hella", but it was the first stereotypically Californian colloquiallism that came to mind. She was mostly just being polite. The prawn went to grinding her mandibles again, though she hardly seemed to notice, when Zinnia uttered another question.

>> “Have you been swimming long?”

"Started swin-ing in high school," she explained. Well, in eighth grade, after she joined the mutant school. But she started a year late, when most people her age were starting 9th grade, "Not to con-pete or any-sing. Just to clear head sun-tines. Switch between swin-ing and running for cardio."

She didn't run in the gym, though. She was concerned about the capability of the treadmills to support her weight. Jack was likely too bashful to ask.

At that moment, one of the baristas wandered over with way, which bore their two drinks. Jack's was on its own, long saucer: a small, metal kettle of hot water, a teacup, and a bag of tea between the two. Zinnia's drink sat on a separate part of the tray.

The barista set the saucer of Jack's tea-making goods before the prawn, and politely asked, "Would you like any milk, honey, sugar, or anything of the likes?"

"No t'ank you," the prawn said politely, bobbing her herad, "T'ank you."

As the lady moved to deliver the drink to Zinnia, Jack sat-up, carefully grabbing the tea packet. She'd have to open it to extract the teabag. Jack tore the pouch, fished-out the tea bag, and unwound the string. She then set the pouch in her cup, and began pouring the water in. The already-miniscule teapot looked laughably small in her massive hands.

Jack felt jittery in the silence that spread between them. Her demeanor didn't betray it. You should say something, she thought quietly, But what on earth do you say? This is such a random thing to do, drinking at a cafe with a stranger. Do you usually ask basic questions like this? What were normal small-talk questions?

"Dat's a huge-" the word failed her. Book? Novel? Both had sounds she wasn't good at. Jack unlocked her phone and typed quickly, <<-huge book. Are you a student? Or just well-read?>>

The voice that filtered out through the speakers of her phone was a clipped, vaguely British voice that had a distinctly synthetic edge to it. It was, quite apparently, a Female AI speaking on Jack's behalf. Jack preferred this voice because, of all the options, its intonation was the best. The cool alto timbre fit Jack best, anyways.

In the lull of the cafe, it was relatively easy to hear the application's speech. At least, that was what Jack had hoped.

So Jac also found the steady swish of water rushing past the ears soothing and meditative. Did she have ears? There were none poking out of the sides of her very bald head, but she was answering Zinn’s questions, so she must be able to hear her somehow. Perhaps the things Zinn would have pegged as antennae were actually ears.

“Not much of a runner myself, but I understand it’s one of the better exercises you can do.”

Especially if you didn’t want to purchase large amounts of highly specialised equipment, just a good pair of shoes will be enough. It was almost a pity that she didn’t enjoy it really. But you can’t force yourself to enjoy something, and running for exercise seemed more like a punishment to her than a peaceful break from the demands of life. She would put up with having undefined calves. Who really looked at calves anyway?

Their drinks arrived and she received hers gratefully. It was a massive cup, as large as three of her fists stacked on top of each other. Comparing Jac’s tiny cup in her massive hands and Zinn’s large cup in her average hands they were quite the contrast. The ice rattled a little against the sides of the cup as she took a sip through the straw.

“Dat’s a huge-“

The carapaced mutant hesitated and Zinn glanced at her and then her coffee, it was pretty big, but ‘huge’ was somewhat of an exaggeration, especially considering who it was coming from. A standard cup of coffee was maybe a third of the size of this one, but in her defence – much of this cup was ice. Her friend started tapping away furiously on the phone and Zinn was impressed by her speed- she couldn’t type nearly as fast, and she had fingers that phones were designed for.
Once the typing stopped the translator added the rest of the sentence, and Zinn realised it was not her coffee being remarked on, but rather her textbook.

“Yes, I’m a student, I am studying nursing. I’m a Licenced Practical Nurse, and

I’m working on getting Bachelors to become a Registered Nurse.”
The textbook was interesting, but not really light reading for interest’s sake. Plus, the pictures were pretty gorey to suddenly be confronted with.

“Are you studying? Or what do you do with your free time?”

Besides swimming and running of course. It was rude to ask if someone had a job, but not so rude to ask about their hobbies. Sometimes the two coincided.

“Do you have any siblings? I have two younger brothers.”

As of yet, neither of them had displayed mutations, but that wasn’t to say that they wouldn’t. If Jac had any siblings would their X-genes manifest in the same way? Would her own brothers develop mutations similar to her own? It was impossible to tell. She knew for certain her brothers would freak out if they saw Jac, in a totally positive pre-teen boy way, with lots of ’sick’ and ‘wicked’s thrown into the mix.

Jack nodded as the young woman commented on running being one of the better exercises one could do. It was true. There really was no substitution for going on a run. Even low-impact “alternatives” like an elliptical didn’t provide the same intensity of a workout.

>> “Yes, I’m a student, I am studying nursing. I’m a Licensed Practical Nurse, and I’m working on getting Bachelors to become a Registered Nurse.”

Jack glanced between Zinnia and the thick tome, humming faintly. That was pretty cool. When she’d still lived in California, one of her roommates had been studying to be a nurse. Those programs were really intense, really competitive. There had been many late nights filled with studying, and a borderline neurosis over getting the perfect grades in class.

>> “Are you studying? Or what do you do with your free time?”

Jack shook her head, and typed a response. The synthetic voice reported, <<I don’t go to school. I’m a bouncer at a night club, and part of the security staff at a local school.>> Jack felt disinclined to give the names off her places of business. She had only just met Zinnia, after all, and Jack was a private person. She’d already lied about being from San Francisco anyways. <<I also enjoy woodworking during my spare time.>>

As a matter of fact, she had her whittling knife and partially-carved woodblock in the pocket of her pants, but Jack was not about to broadcast this to the other patrons of the café.

>> “Do you have any siblings? I have two younger brothers.”

Now that was a difficult question to field. She had brothers, technically, but she had also been disowned by her own family. So in a way, Jack didn’t really have any family. She stirred her tea with a small spoon. It was almost ready to drink.

“I an duh youngest o’ tree,” she explained, “I had two older 'ruh-ders. We lost touch a long tine ago, doh. You know how it is sun-tines. How sun-tines dose wit’ X-genes get estranged and all.”

Even if Zinnia had never experienced it firsthand, such outcomes were common in the mutant community—perhaps more prevalent in the visibly-inhuman, but still. Jack set the stirring spoon down on the saucer, beside her tea cup.

“I used to look hue-nan,” she clarified, unhooking her mask from the spines on either side of her face, “So it was a shock when I… hm… changed. Duh sssan-ily did not take it well”

That's a gross understatement. Jack folded the mask, and set it on her lap, dipping the teabag once more. The water had taken a nice hue, now, saturated enough with tea to be suitable for drinking. The prawn removed the teabag and laid it on the saucer. 

“Nust be nice, doh, to be duh eldest,” Jack teased, quickly attempting to shift the attention from her life-story. The truth felt too heavy for a cafe conversation, particularly since the two young women barely knew each other, “What are your 'ruh-ders like?”

The prawn took a cautious sip of her tea, parting her maxillipeds to accommodate the cup. It was weird dining with someone else, but at least she wasn’t eating food. Eating was not as publicly presentable.

“What do you do?” Jack inquired, her tone dropping. She set the cup down lightly. This was good tea, “Nyu-tation wise, dat is?”