It was a rough start at the institute. Tyson couldn't say he was in the best mood. He  had thought he was supposed to get treatment here. He still believed that was the case, but he was told that he 'couldn't be cured'. That couldn't be the case of course, he wouldn't be here if that were the case. They probably just needed time, he had just gotten here after all, so it too soon to say right? Anyway, the entire incident had him feeling off sorts, and settling down into his room was hard with the scent of the other people all around him. He tossed and turned in the bed but couldn't really get comfortable. That and he managed to tear his bedsheets with his claws, which did nothing to improve his temperament. Finally he had enough and got up, deciding he needed some fresh air. He didn't bother putting on a shirt. It wasn't like he actually needed on considering the layer of fur covering him, and he wasn't planning on leaving the building. Everyone else sounded asleep anyway, he could hear snoring from other rooms as he padded down the hallway. He didn't bother with lights either, he could see perfectly well in the dark, and didn't want to risk accidentally waking someone.

He wandered the halls for a little bit, going down the stairs and looking around, with no real clear aim in mind. Just moving helped him relax a little. Until he caught a whiff of something good, a delicious scent coming from a doorway. He already had an idea where it lead, and felt himself automatically drawn to it. Quickly he ducked into the kitchen, sniffing the air and feeling an instinctual anticipation. He followed his nose to the fridge, and opened it. The scents were varied, strong pungent cheeses, fresh earthy scents of vegetables, acidic citrus scents of oranges and lemons. However, it was something else that caught ahold of his new and more primal instincts, and he scrabbled at the bottom fridge drawer where the smell radiated from, pulling it open and almost right out of the fridge itself. And there it was. Red, juicy, succulent... Tyson didn't register anything wrong until he was already halfway through the the steak, ripping out chunks of meat with fervor. Not that he could have really done anything about it anyway, his primal instincts were too strong for him at the moment, and a raw bloody steak was something his wolf brain couldn't pass up.

Jack wasn’t usually one of the overnight people—she typically worked security during the daytime, when students were actually awake. But one of the other security personnel called-in sick, and Jack had few enough hours (and a flexible enough schedule) that they gave her a call.

“Available to come in and cover a shift? Tom’s out with the flu.”

Conveniently enough, it was one of the few nights that Jack didn’t have a shift at Chrysalis.

“Sure,” the prawn agreed.

She now found herself padding her way down the halls, humming to herself. Of course they had her walking around, making sure everything was secure. At least she wasn’t on the perimeter, where it was colder than cold. Heh, the boss probably thought she was cold-blooded. Jack chirred to herself, her hands wedged into her pockets.

It was too quiet at night. Boring, even. It was more fun when the students were up and about. It was more fun when the halls were filled with peals of laughter and the smaller students were tugging at Jacks’ arms, begging for her to play a game with them. She considered it part of her job—be nice to the kids, make them feel safe. She was part of security, after all. She deigned to admit that she enjoyed their company thoroughly.

She even enjoyed the company of some of the older, surly ones. Mostly because she saw herself in them. Or the troublemakers, for the same reason.

She made her way towards the hall off of which the kitchen sat, antennae twitching. She heard the sloppy, slurping sounds of someone eating a midnight snack. Not too uncommon. There were a few nocturnal ones. Might as well make herself known, lest she scare them.

Jack poked her head through the doorway, spying a huge ball of fluff bent over in front of the fridge.

“E’ening,” she greeted casually, the low timbre of her voice swinging across the kitchen towards the fluffy one in-question. She hadn’t seen him around before. Probably new.

And that was all that she said, as she lingered in the doorway. She understood the priority of eating first, speaking later, just as she understood the appeal of a raw red steak. Her mandibles ground beneath the surgical mask, an involuntary reaction to the scent of food. She’d go on lunchbreak soon, spare someone the disappointment of finding their food gone from the fridge.

Tyson's nose was full of the scent of the meat, and the juices ran down his muzzle staining his hands and face red. He was almost finished when he registered a clicking behind him. Territorial instincts took hold as someone said "E'ening" and he automatically turned, snarling and growling in defense of his meal, his hackles rising and lips curled back. What met his eyes though, made him stop. Standing in the doorway was... well, it looked like some kind of insect, that is if an insect were the size of a man. It wasn't something he was expecting, making him halt mid growl. In that moment of hesitation, primal instinct faltered and his cognitive functions started processing what was actually going on around him. First, there was some sort of insect thing eyeing him. He didn't know much about insects to tell if it was eyeing him for a meal, but just the fact that it existed was intimidating in itself. Second, he was covered in blood and holding the remains of a bloody raw steak in his hand, and the irony taste of it on his tongue. Realization washed over him and he wasn't sure exactly which he should be reacting to first. Finally revulsion won over. He dropped what was left of the steak, covering his mouth as he felt bile rising up in his throat. It wasn't so much a physical reaction as a mental one. Disgust at what he was doing, apparently without even thinking about it, and the common knowledge that people were not supposed to eat raw, uncooked beef awoke the reaction of sickness and nausea, and Tyson turned and ran to the sink, heaving violently.

As he threw up, he could still smell the blood on him and was revolted by the fact that a part of him was still thinking it smelled delicious. "Crrrrrrap, crrrrrrap, crrraapp" he said aloud, sounding like a combination of barking and growling, not focusing on forming the words properly. He grabbed at the water faucet, turning it on full blast and shoving his face in it, rubbing furiously to remove the blood from him, desperate to get rid of the smell on him. dripping wet he turned and sank to the ground, still clutching at his mouth in disgust as he tried processing what exactly had happened. Despite there still being a giant insect watching him, he was to much in shock of his own behavior to really consider the implications of it. What the hell was he doing eating raw meat, and what's more, not even thinking twice about it? What was happening to him?

Whoever it was snapped their attention in her direction, snarling inhumanly and fur bristling. Canid of some sort. Instinctually, Jack returned the hostility with a low yowl, fringed by a cautionary hiss. The muscles in her body coiling to spring. Her pupils constricted, eyes darting all over the lupine individual and around the kitchen. She wasn’t going to hurt him—but if he pulled anything stupid, she’d have to at least slow him down.

The meat hanging from the wolf’s mouth dropped with a hollow thwock, the fight leaving the lupine’s eyes. A rising sickness overcame them—Jack knew the look well. She worked at a nightclub, after all. Brawlers with bad attitudes and too much liquor in their system, suddenly getting bested by Jagermeister or whatever other s**t they’d decided to marinate themselves in that evening. A hand fluttered to the lupine’s mouth, and he ran to the sink, regurgitating the meat he’d just scarfed down.

“S**t,” Jack groaned. At least he’d made it to the sink. Of all the tasks Jack was glad not to fill at club, janitorial duties was one of them. Though she’d seen her fair share of puking and was mostly desensitized to it, the acrid scent of bile made the filaments on her antennae prickle in an unpleasant way.

The prawn crossed the threshold into the kitchen, but still kept her distance. Puking transitioned to frenzied scrubbing as the kid rinsed himself down, and once satisfied with the spontaneous shower, he sank to the floor, defeated.

Jack said very little, at first. She made her moves slow and deliberate—crossing the kitchen, towards the wolf on the floor. She knew the look in his eyes well—or, at least, she thought she did.

“Can I sit wit’ you?” the prawn asked, once she was about three feet from him.

Whether he said yes or no, Jack didn’t wait for the answer. She began to sit, regardless, crossing her legs casually.

“Sorry sore startling you,” she murmured, her voice still lulling despite its gravelly edge, “Do you… need to go duh in-sir-mary*?” Jack had to be sure that there wasn’t anything else at play.

*infirmary

Tyson tried to pull himself together, trying to make sense of what he was doing. He told himself this was just another one of the things that his father’s experiments had done to him. His actions had to be the result of that, he wasn’t an animal, this wasn’t his choice. He told himself it would be over when they figured out a cure, in the mean time all he had to do… was avoid raw meat. That was it, it was just a reaction. He could deal with it for a little while. The sick feeling started to leave him as he repeated this in his mind over and over.

The insect thing came towards him, and Tyson wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react. It hadn’t attacked him before when he had… been out of it. Well, it had hissed, but it hadn’t made a move to actually hurt him. He tried to focus on rationalizing the situation. He was in a house for mutants, so that would mean this would have to be someone else who lived here. So it was just someone like him, but more… insecty. “Can I sit wit’ you?” it said, surprising Tyson for a moment in that it could speak. But then he recalled it had said something like, ‘evening’ before. It didn't seem to mean him harm, so he slowly nodded as it took a seat near him.

As he looked at it, he thought that insect was probably the wrong way to describe it. Now that he looked at it, it looked covered in more of a shell then an exoskeleton, and now that the blood smell had dissipated, the smell reminded him more of shrimp, so maybe crustacean was the more accurate term. And now that he was paying attention, was that a surgery mask it was wearing? “Sorry sore startling you,” it said, and he once again heard that clicking sounds, and saw movement under the mask that didn't exactly correspond with lip movement, which gave him the feeling that the mask was to put others at ease. “Do you… need to go duh in-sir-mary?” it asked. Tyson shook his head, wondering exactly what he was supposed to say. It was difficult for him to talk, the new shape of his mouth was something he was still getting used to. "F-Fiiiiinnne" he growled out, "Not surrrrrr what he-happened." He felt a bit better now, a bit more at ease if this thing... this person were worried about his health. "h-who arrrrr you?" he said, wondering who it was who had stumbled upon him, wither it was a student, teacher, or some other staff member. Honestly he hoped it was someone who wasn't going to spread the news of his apparent carnivorous cravings about the institute. He had enough to worry about without people thinking he may eat them. The thought brought back bad memories, he quickly tried to focus on the present, not wanting to dwell on the people he had actually attacked while under the collars influence.

The wolf shook its massive head in response to Jack’s question. Good, he was mellowing out. Jack sat patiently, settling her massive hands atop her knee. Her posture was casual, reserved… welcoming.

>> "F-Fiiiiinnne. Not surrrrrr what he-happened."

Someone else with a speech impediment. That was both a very common occurrence, and not common enough. She let him growl out the words, no change in expression flickering across her face.

>> "h-who arrrrr you?"

“Jacquelyn Dyer,” she clicked matter-of-factly, “E’eryone calls nee ‘Jack’, doh. I work security.”

“You’re a student, yes?” Jack inquired, “What’s ‘r nay-n*?”

Jack had been around long enough to recognize all of the staff by their faces, and know most of their names. (Or, at the very least, she knew the names that she’d assigned to them.) So she knew he wasn’t part of the staff. That left only one (legal) alternative, which was student. Otherwise it was trespassing.

Jack pulled her phone out of her pocket, without turning it on.

“How long has you ‘een a nyu-tant?” she asked conversationally, “Long tine?”

She tried to keep the questions in the yes-or-no range. Besides the obvious “who the heck are you” inquiries. He could answer as simply as a head nod, or speak plainly. Up to him. Jack surveyed him the way one human would survey another. The occasional flicker here or there, but mostly fixating on his eyes.

She itched at her mask. Tonight's outfit was casual but warm-- tan cargo pants, black t-shirt, and a rather cozy looking hoodie. Atop that, a badge that signified she was a staf member, and a walkie talkie, which was clipped to her hip.

*name

Jacquelyn, wasn't that a girls name? Tyson didn't know enough about shrimp to be able to tell gender. However, apparently his nose did. The scent she gave off set off a strange indicator in his mind that suggested female, he wasn't sure what made him so sure, maybe it was a hormone thing. However, 'Jack' was fine by him, he probably wouldn't even be able to pronounce Jacquelyn if his life depended on it. At least she verified her position, he felt a bit better since at most, the only people who would find out about this would be possibly the headmaster.

"You're a student, yes? What's 'r nay-n?" She asked, and Tyson thought about it. He wasn't a student per say, he wasn't attending classes. His presence here was more about dealing with his condition then it was higher education. Of course they had offered, but right now sitting in a class with a crowd of people would wrecked havoc on his senses. "T-Tyson," he said, answering the second question first, "Nuh-not ssst-tudent, heerrrr forrrrr currrrrrr." It was the base nitty gritty of why he was here, to cure himself. His entire story was far to much to explain, especially with him garbling half of it with growls and barks. He watched as Jack pulled a phone from her pocket, and he wondered if she was about to call the headmaster.

“How long has you ‘een a nyu-tant? Long tine?”

"Nuh-Not muhtant, eh-expherrrrriment." he garbled, he didn't want to go into detail about it. He didn't know what his father had done to him, so he was under the impression that he was a test subject. No one had explained to him the details, so he had no knowledge otherwise. "Nuh-not sure hooowwl long." Between a number of painful experiments that caused him to black out, the control collar, and everything else, he wasn't sure how long he had been like this. Too long in his opinion.

>> "T-Tyson. Nuh-not ssst-tudent, heerrrr forrrrr currrrrrr."

The prawn was eerily still as she listened, offering very little to suggest her train of thought. She'd been in the boy's position, once. Looking for something-- anything-- that'd make her look human again. But what then? It wasn't like she could go home. Besides which, there wasn't a "cure" for what she was.

"Tyson," Jack echoed, mildly humored, "Good nay-n. Can actually say it right."

She wasn't going to have a heart-to-heart with the kid. They'd only just met, after all.

"Has you sound any-sing yet?" Jack inquired, tilting her chin at the boy, "A cure? A lead?"

Jack also wasn't going to do a step-dance on the kids' dreams, though. There was no need to be a d--- to someone who was already having a hard time with their new state of being.

>> "Nuh-Not muhtant, eh-expherrrrriment. Nuh-not sure hooowwl long."

A muscle in the prawn's face twitched, a flex of the mandible underneath her surgical mask.

"An ex'eri-nent," she echoed, her voice flat. It made her stomach burn, but with what, the prawn wasn't sure. She wanted to punch whoever made Tyson, but that was as far as her introspection went. Who the f--- would do such a thing?

The prawn exhaled sharply, getting to her feet. She padded past Tyson to the fridge, popping it open again.

"Wanna soda or sun-sing?" she offered, "Hel' settle your stun-ach."

Soda was too severe for Jack, so she also offered, "Tea... or coconut water. Dere's sun o' dat, too."

Much like Jack didn't want to talk about being chained in the basement of her childhood home, she assumed Tyson didn't want to talk about being an experiment. And even if he did, Jack didn't feel like the right person to handle that touchy subject.

"Has you sound any-sing yet? A cure? A lead?" Tyson figured Jack probably didn't know much about the the work the institute did. He didn't know much either for that matter, only that he was supposed to get help here. He took that to mean they were working on it, but they had not told him how long or how close they were. So he simply shook his head rather then try to explain everything, which would have taken a while.

"Wanna soda or sun-sing?" Tyson would have liked a soda, he used to like it, but now the taste was overwhelming with the sensitivity of his nose, not only that it was mostly wasted when he tried to drink it since his mouth wasn't the same shape anymore, most just poured out the sides of his ... muzzle. The best he could do was just try guzzling liquids from a bowl until he got the hang of drinking from a cup again. "Hrrrrr coooooocnuht whaaaater, in aaahh boooooowl," he said, figuring it was the most bland of the options outside of strait up water.

Beside this he was starting to calm down a little, at least enough to where he could get to his feet again. And enough to start wondering about Jack. "Hrrrrr hooooow loooonng hrrrr frrrrrrooooorrrr yooooou hrrrrr?" he asked, wondering how long Jack had dealt with her own condition. She seemed well adjusted at least, probably light years ahead of where he was in figuring out how her body worked. At the very least she could speak without it sounding like it was going through a blender.

>> "Hrrrrr coooooocnuht whaaaater, in aaahh boooooowl,"

Jack gave an affirmative grunt, fishing the carton of coconut water out of the fridge. She typically brought her own food from home (sensitive palate and all), so it took some rummaging around before she found the dishes. Large, awkward hands pulled the entire stack of bowls out, before taking a single bowl off the top. The coconut water was then poured into the bowl, and left on the counter.

The wolf boy rose, and she offered the bowl to him, before leaning casually against the counter.

>> "Hrrrrr hooooow loooonng hrrrr frrrrrrooooorrrr yooooou hrrrrr?"

"How long has I 'een a nyu-tant?" Jack clarified. She tilted her head back, trying to call, "Long tine--" she did the arithmatic in her head, "Little nore dan ten years." Time was fuzzy around that period. She remembered that she was in junior high. She looked at Ty, her eyes pinching in a smile.

"It gets easier," she assured him, "In sun ways. In uzzers... like... wiss hue-nans... ne'er easier. 'ut you learn how to get around. How to deal wiss what you got."

She drew a circle around her surgical mask with one of her massive hands, "For exan'le... talking. Used to not talk at all. Still can't say sun t'ings right... 'ut I can say nost t'ings a'ight. And I got dis text-to-talk t'ing on my..." she wiggled the phone.

"So no has to talk to strangers," Jack said.

Tyson gripped the bowl akwardly with his hands, it was the limit of his dexterity to hold the bowl, his fingers not responding properly enough for him to do much more then grasp it. The next part was even less dignified, as he had to stick his snout into the coconut water and gulp down what he could. He was embarrassed by it, but considering his ordeal, he was not as worried at the moment.

He listened to Jacks words, and felt slightly better, 10 years was a long time to deal with a drastic physical change like hers. He supposed if she could go 10 years, maybe he could manage a few weeks or more months. And it was nice that she was supportive about things getting easier with time and learning to talk became easier with practice. He did feel a little disappointed when she mentioned the phone though. He could barely hold a thing like that, let alone attempt to work it. "Hrrrrrrrr hhhhaaannnds doooon't hrrrrrrrrr worrrrrrrrk sooo gooooood," he said, putting the bowl down on the counter, almost dropping it in the process.

The corners of Jacks' eyes pinched in a smile as the kid replaced his bowl on the counter. She remembered when she first enrolled at the mutant school in San Francisco-- when she first tried to reintegrate into civilized society. She had to relearn everything-- speaking, eating politely, how to occupy public spaces. This kid was at the very beginning of all that. It wouldn't be easy. But--

"You'll sss-igure sss-ings out," Jack assured him. She remained propped-up against the counter, inclining her head at him.

"Wanna walk wiss nee?" Jack offered, "Technically it's as-ter cur-sew, 'ut iss it looks like I'n walkin' wiss you, is all good."

It'd be nice to have company. Maybe he'd want to talk more, maybe he'd want to go to bed. Jack was ambivalent either way. But she figured she'd extend the offer to him.

Tyson hoped Jack was right, at least about figuring things out, if all went well, he could get back to normal and have normal fingers again. It would be great when he could actually do things again, play video games, write, read a book. You never really knew how much you would miss those things until you actually couldn't do them anymore.

"Hrrrr suuuuurrrrrrrrrrree, "He said, trying not to make it sound like a snarl, of which he failed miserably. He could probably use a walk to get his mind off of meat at the moment. That and Jack made him feel a little better about his own situation. Perhaps just because she was technically worse off in the looks department, or being in a similar circumstance he didn't know, though he hoped it wasn't just feeling there was someone worse off then himself, which made him feel bad about himself. He wasn't usually the type to be like that, but then strange circumstances could bring out parts of yourself you didn't know about. He just hoped that things would improve soon.