Today had been a very long day. A full day of lectures and tutorials was one thing, but throw in a gang fight and hostage situation and he could really do with a drink. He was also fairly sure he owed his new friend a decent glass of scotch, as well as a proper introduction. Artair wasn't going to take no for an answer either, the guy had helped a complete stranger, helped him save a kid. That meant a lot to the Scotsman. So here they were, in a relatively nice bar, trying to get served.

After carefully promising Sarah that they'd meet again and gently reassuring her father that she really was OK, he had finally managed to see to himself. Considering how many there had been, Artair had been very lucky to only have a relatively shallow cut on his shoulder. All in all, that was pretty lucky for him, just another scar for the collection.

At least the long wait was giving him time to unpack everything that he'd done. He'd hurt people, probably crippled at least two of them. Them being thugs, anti mutant bigots, didn't change the fact he'd almost enjoyed the fight, gotten a thrill out of the pain he'd caused. It should have bothered him, should have freaked him out honestly and yet? Every time he started to think of the damage he'd done, a small smiling face reminded him why. Maybe, at the end of it, that was all he needed. To know that what he was doing was saving someone innocent. That, and good whiskey, would have have to do for today.

Finally managing to get the drinks, and finding the table Devon had managed to get for them both, he realised he didn't actually know where to start "Here you go, a wee bit of uisge-beatha, directly from my home town." Dropping the glass of Highland Park before his companion and taking a sip of his own, he reveled in the taste of home. "So, Devon, I'm sure you've got some questions. Where do you want to start?"

While Sarah talked and played with Margaret, Devon and Artair had assured Sarah’s father she was okay. Devon had also made it clear he’d be checking in and wanted to help ensure they were supported. He hadn’t pressed to learn the girl’s ability; that was her business, though he had a feeling he’d see it in time. They’d promised to call in and make a visit to Sanctuary; Sarah seemed excited to meet more kids like her.

It was nice to know you had a community and your world wasn’t so small. It made you feel alone and people who were alone did terrible, sad things. It was easy to get lost when you were alone.

As they’d left Artair had quickly asked Devon to grab a drink. Devon was happy to oblige; he’d have asked as well but Artair had been him to it. He wasn’t sure how commonly Artair got in these situations, but he was well trained. Training didn’t always mean emotional preparedness of course. The reserved nature of the Scotsman suggested a caring, uncertain sort where it came to hurting others. That was good.

Devon smiled and greeted a few people that passed or were nearby, including a couple of young ladies grabbing a drink post work. He idly watched his blue-eyed compatriot at the bar getting drinks while talking with them. They couldn’t stay but they tossed their numbers and Devon provided his. Thankfully, they let him take the table. There he waited, wondering as to how to begin.

Fortunately, Devon’s fondness for gaelic and celtic stories made understanding some of Artair’s brogue a bit easier, not that his English was hard anyway. It was endearing if anything; Sarah had pointed it out well. He hadn’t recognized the words but the passed glass of whiskey made it clear Artair had referred to the drink. Devon accepted it with a wide smile and bright eyes. He took a sip and a breath.

>> “…Where do you want to start?"

Devon chuckled, “I’m usually the one asking that. I guess I’ll start by saying I’m Devon Hadden. Clearly you know Serena.” He paused, bobbing his head slightly before saying, “So you must be good company.”

Another chuckle. “And that I also go to NYU. I’ve got atmokinetic abilities, but you’ve already seen that. I’m eager to hear more about your abilities but how about more about you, your name, why you’re studying medicine… Oh, and thank you.”

Devon raised his glass and when Artair had done the same, Devon took another sip.

Devon had happily taken the scotch, that was a good sign. You could tell a lot about a man by how he reacted to alcohol. That and how they acted when he slipped out of English. It was a trick he often used, in his experience people reacted genuinely to an unexpected language. If he'd confused the man, he hadn't let it show.

Well, at least he had a full name to work with now. It rang a bell as well, had he seen something around campus with the Hadden name on? It was always possible, he didn't tend to pay much attention to the fliers constantly going up, chances are he'd seen it once somewhere. Serena may have told him the guys full name when she handed the number over, but considering how out of it he was that morning he was surprised he even remembered her, let alone anything that had happened in the meeting.

Smiling at the joke and letting Devon continue, he figured he was a student. He'd been close enough to help Artair, must have been in one of the university buildings. He was amused by the use of a scientific term for the powers. The Scotsman had never really bothered to learn what his were classed as. It just didn't seem important to him. He made weapons, that was about it.

Raising his glass he smiled and responded with the traditional Gaelic cheer "Slangevar!" taking a sip before he put the glass down. Thinking a second before responding "My full name's Artair Hawke. Obviously I'm not a local. As for why I'm studying medicine? Two reasons mostly, first is my dad was a doctor. He helped people, guess that rubbed off on me. Second reasons a wee bit more complicated." He never liked talking about this, didn't like remember the accident, but he wasn't going to lie either. Devon seemed like a trustworthy guy.

Taking a swift drink he plunged into it. "When I was younger I had an accident. Really bad one. I was hospitalised for a long time, had to go through a lot of surgeries and physical therapy to be where I am now." His hand started to tighten on the front of his shirt, just over his heart. "Everyone who worked with me was amazing though. Really helped me through it. Once I was finally able to resume school and got towards thinking about what I wanted to do, there wasn't really another option."

"Not much more to it really. What about yourself, what is it you're studying? What do you want to be?" Knowing more about a persons dreams was always a good way to see their character. Not that Devon had anything to prove to him at this point, Artair was mostly just curious.

“Slangevar!”

It was a raised glass cheer. To your health or good health all around. Devon knew it more from reading than family. He put down the glass after the sip, listening to Artair with rapt attention.

Obviously not a local. That got a grin and a chuckle from Devon. He nodded at that and smiled at the study of medicine. Dad was a doctor. It would seem both had lost a parent. The complicated reason Devon wasn’t sure about; it certainly didn’t have anything to do with the mutation. Artair went for another sip of courage to talk so Devon mirrored him. Mirthful eyes watched over the rim of his glass.

The dark-haired Bostonian’s brow dropped in concern. His grin melted into a serious line but than a hopeful small smile. Artair had been hurt but survived, clearly. It was a very noble approach and one that felt very familiar to Devon. That was interesting, wasn’t it? Lost a father, had a calamitous bout that got you working closely with medical professionals, and then that drove one to their future profession?

>> “…What about yourself, what is it you're studying? What do you want to be?"

Devon smiled. “I’m about to graduate with my psychology degree and I’ve already completed my consultation certificate and license. As to how it came about... Actually, I had a very troubling time when I was younger. It took me too long to realize the value of the care I was getting, but after everything I realized what I wanted to do,” he nodded, grinning. His voice mirrored his bemusement as he shrugged his shoulders, “Like you said: there wasn’t really another option.”

He sighed, “But I lost my father too. Mother as well. I felt it only right I should tell ya. It would seem we have some similar origins, eh?” He chuckled, “To our parents,” and raised his glass for another sip. “As for what I’m doing. I actually started a treatment business: Hadden’s Havens. Bought up Plum Island. Few hours east of here, sort of between Long Island and Connecticut. Got another one too, just opened.” Devon left the location out though, not wanting to sound like he was bragging. “Some of my patients, some politicians, a few liberally minded technology people, and a few others started a charitable education and volunteer organization too: Haven. Been a busy few months. You might have seen some of the materials around?”

Artair appreciated being able to say his piece without more questions. He wasn't really ready to face the answers right now and being able to just give as much information as he was comfortable with made him feel better. Devon was also obviously a nice guy, paying attention to the things he was saying and taking his experiences seriously. Most people seemed too eager to pry when it came to others issues.

Idly drinking as his listened, he wasn't that surprised to hear Devon was in a field like psychology. It took a certain kind of person to want to help other people and from what he could gather, his drinking companion was just that sort. He couldn't help but smile at the similarities in their experiences. Maybe it was sad that it took pain to motivate people to kindness or maybe those were just the ones better able to understand it and help stopping it happening to others. As the number of points in their lives that turned out the same, he couldn't stop his grin from widening. Half a world away from home and he meets the guy best equipped to understand him.

Raising his own glass at the toast and nodding, he silently echoed the sentiment and let Devon continue. That explained the recognition though, he'd seen posters about Haddens Haven dotted about, but what did he been he bought an island? How much money did the guy have? Apparently enough to set up more than one treatment centre and a charitable organisation. Christ that was a fair amount of not just money but clout in the local community. That was impressive, a little scary too.

"Haven't seen much about Haven around, but considering how busy I've been with uni, that's not surprising. If I've not got my head in a book it's a rare moment." That or he was hungover, but that hardly needed mentioning right now. "Serena mentioned it but I wasn't in the best state to inquire more at the time. Might be a bit laughable but she was kind of the first other mutant I've actually met and talked to. Coming from such a small and isolated place, it wasn't something I advertised about myself." Attitudes back home were, while not really right wing, they were somewhat conservative.

"Mind telling me more? Meeting the leader of an organisation tends to make you just a wee pit curious about it."

>> “…If I've not got my head in a book it's a rare moment."

Devon chuckled and nodded, his grin widening to match that of Artair.

>> “…Coming from such a small and isolated place, it wasn't something I advertised about myself."

Another nod and another sip of scotch. He must have met Serena here at school. Devon figured he’d have to ask Serena more about their mutual friend. Coming to New York City not having met any other mutants must have been interesting. At least he’d found someone of similar mind. Devon had met plenty of mutants in his time, and thankfully Serena was one of them.

>> "Mind telling me more? Meeting the leader of an organisation tends to make you just a wee pit curious about it."

Devon laughed now. “Sure,” he nodded. “I can understand that. Hadden’s Havens is for treatment, recuperation, counseling, and maybe relaxation too. My business is about treating the person. Haven is a public organization for charitable activity while encouraging the individual through continued education. They say a leader has to take care of herself or himself before he or she can take care of others. Haven helps you do that. Helps you meet like-minded individuals. It also helps put tools in your toolbox and put energy – and money from donations – into the right places. A lot of what we’re starting with involves education systems and programs, GLBT rights, and mutant rights.”

He blushed slightly though maybe the scotch had a bit to do with the flush. “I could talk about it all day. Have been quite a bit. Basically, we want to put good people together and make good changes with perhaps some education and then a little fun here and there. We’ve got members that are volunteer leaders at schools, charity runners, some politicians, interested musicians, career activists, etc. These are people who are willing to make a difference and put the time and energy into it,” he smiled. “Maybe even a little brawl in an alley to help protect a kid, eh?”

Devon winked a blue eye and then down a bit scotch.

His work sounded fascinating. Too many people neglected mental healthcare when trying to help someone. It was just as vital as treating the body and an organisations dedicated to both parts of a person was good in his books. It sometimes got to easy to ignore people as people in healthcare, often being reduced as simply a condition to treat and send on their way.

Artair was more interested in Haven, however. A charitable organisation placed to not only help mutants, but offering educational programs about them as well. Those were the big thing. There were many groups campaigning for equal rights, but many had little direction and did little to help the communities they advocated for. A group that actually put it's money into not just the political side, but the real stuff, the kind of things that made a big difference in peoples day to day lives , that he could respect.

He did have to smile at Devon getting a little embarrassed over talking about it but he did come across as earnest. That was the big thing to Artair and if he could help protect people, people like Sarah, he was in.

"If you keep working for that, working for real equality, to help people who've slipped through the cracks, I can get behind that. I know how much you offered that family, how much it's going to mean to them. I also know how many more get hurt because others hide behind the law." The government protect far too many bigots who's actions harmed countless people. Looking him in the eyes, he continued with "If you need any help with things like what happened today, you've got my number."

"But I will be blunt Devon and I don't do orders," he said, with a pointed look. It might come across as rude, but having cards on the table reduced future misunderstandings.

Devon was enjoying the bar Artair had brought them to. It was a relaxing, fun place. It would’ve been hard to have a conversation without a table, but they’d gotten one. Artair had gotten them two great tumblers of scotch and it was nice to relax with the drinks after the evening they’d had.

He was also happy to hear Artair supported what he was working toward. He tried to help Sarah’s family and he hoped others helped through Haven would continue to give back to their community, those they met. If you helped and empowered someone into strong leadership, then they in turn could help others. It seemed Artair value what Devon was doing, though he couldn’t take all the credit.

Blue eye’s widened a bit as he took another sip at the comment of hiding behind the law. Artair really seemed to understand. They couldn’t have waited for the cops with that girl after all. There were also politicians, wealthy business owners, and worse who used the law against people, especially minorities like mutants. Free speech was fine, but some used it as one defense of many for their activities.

Devon was about to say thanks at Artair’s offer to help with things. He referenced what happened today explicitly, though Devon hoped he meant Haven overall. Devon would have clarified but there was a sudden turn to the attitude.

>> "But I will be blunt Devon and I don't do orders,"

“Uhm,” Devon tried to hide his surprise, awkwardness but he struggled so clearly caught off guard. The alcohol moving through his system certainly impaired his typical mastery of his emotions and visual responses. “Right,” Devon nodded. “Of course. I don’t- We’re a volunteer organization. I mean Haven has employees but…” He trailed off, brow knitting in concern. He leaned forward as if sharing a secret.

“I’m sorry, did I say something commanding or something?” he forced an awkward smile. “Sorry if I did… I mean that was a tense scene so I guess I’m accustomed to trying to guide a situation. You called me though it really felt like you didn’t me… I’ve had to cajole a lot of people at Sanctuary in some bad situations so… Anyway, sorry. Yeah, sorry for that.”

Oh my god, that had caught him so off guard. Artair really did try to not laugh, but Devon's flustered stammering broke him down. Yeah, he hadn't explained himself very well but the guys reaction was just so out of left field for him. He was more used to being sworn at by friends that have someone so concerned for potentially offending him.

"Sorry, sorry but I think you've misunderstood." His words still came out between bouts of laughter. "You've done nowt wrong today Devon, in that situation you had more experience and did what was needed, thats more than fine with me. What I meant was I will always speak my mind about what you're doing, what you want me to do." He did need to consider his next words carefully, "I won't do something just because you ask, I'll make my own moral judgements and if I think something is sketchy to me, I'll speak up about."

Chuckling it off, he had to wonder if Devon was maybe not as used to alcohol as he was. After all the guy seemed around his age and America was certainly a wee bit more uptight over the stuff. Artair was basically from a culture revolving around it, it was like he had a genetic advantage in that regard. "As for not needing you today? There was no way I could have done that alone, don't sell yourself short. You helped a complete stranger for no better reason than it was the right thing to do, trust me when I say, I respect that."

"I was just putting my cards on the table. I'm happy to help people, and will give as much time to Haven as I can, but I just needed it known that I will be vocal if I think something is wrong." If push came to shove he would walk, but that was implied for now. If Haven could do things outside the law, get to the people who actually deserved justice, he was all in.

Artair took another sip of his drink and glanced around, noting the mood getting better and the bar starting to get packed. Every time he'd been here he had enjoyed himself, had more beers than was probably wise and even met a nice lass or two. It was kind of weird to be having such a private conversation here, but then again, there was a twisted sense to it. No one paid them any mind, or at least, no one paid him any mind. Devon got more than a few admiring looks from various people, even some very jealous partners giving evil looks after noticing their loved ones stares. Some people had all the luck.

"You don't need to worry about offending me, friendships back hope tend to contain more swearing and playful abuse." Giving him an amused look, "If you do royally p--- me off, somehow, you'll know. Trust me." Swearing was a national past time for the Scots.

Artair laughed and Devon smiled. Clearly he hadn’t said something quite demanding, but certainly amusing. The knitted brows eased and one slowly rose in question.

>> "Sorry, sorry but I think you've misunderstood."

Devon nodded slowly. Clearly, he had. Artair’s explanation made far more sense. It wasn’t about taking orders, but that he would listen and share his thoughts, speak his opinions. Devon nodded along as the man spoke. It certainly seemed Artair was guessing at some of Haven’s activities beyond what Devon had described, likely because of what they’d done today: fighting the gang and saving the girl. Maybe Artair was more eager to fight than the doctor in him said.

To show he was still in good humor and held nothing against Artair’s words, Devon chuckled along with the chortling between the Scotman’s words. He had been caught off guard and really, it’d touched a nerve. He didn’t want to be that guy ordering others around. And maybe Artair feeling that way had worried him more than he realized. Was Devon nervous? It was just a drink after saving a girl after all…

>> You helped a complete stranger for no better reason than it was the right thing to do, trust me when I say, I respect that."

“Likewise,” Devon smiled, nodding once more.

>> "If you do royally p--- me off, somehow, you'll know. Trust me."

Laughter left his lips but Devon kept nodding, his blue eyes not straying to those trying to catch his glance. His attention was on Artair and what he had to say. Him and him alone. “I’d expect nothing less. We’re there to help people, empower leaders and our community. You have a problem with how we’re doing things, let’s talk. It’s also why we have our fun too, the club and all.” There were some aspects that some members had started that weren’t exactly public, but they were for training and assistance. It was safe recreation, consenting adults, and yeah people weren’t asked to do things they weren’t comfortable doing after all.

“Part of what makes Haven strong is that we do say something when what’s happening isn’t right,” his tone strengthening with clear conviction. “Considering today and now that I understand you,” he grinned, eyes lowering, “I’m sure you’ll appreciate that.”

“But playful abuse? I’ll aim for nobly p***ing you off,” Devon laughed and took another sip. “Not quite royal, but still up there.”

"That's all I can ask for then Devon and I'll be more than happy to check out your club at some point. I'm not one to say no to some fun every now and then." If the place had a decent collection of booze and privacy when he needed it, he was more than happy to spend some time there, maybe even meet some nice people. He wouldn't say no to that.

He certainly would appreciate bluntness, not that it was ever in question with a Scotsman. His people spoke their minds and spent their time annoying bigger and stronger countries their entire history. It was a proud tradition, in a way. "Good to hear, I'm not one for following blindly and knowing that's not the organisation you have, I'm happy to add my contribution. With the summer break coming up I can probably give more help in the short term, but can't promise anything when the school year starts again."

Grinning at the joke, he was glad Devon could roll with the unexpected. Artair had never gotten the hang of holding his tongue which had unfortunately caused issues when he'd moved across. More than one person had gotten very offended at him for speaking his mind in a situation, rather than mindlessly agreeing to whatever was being said. That wasn't him. "I'll keep that in mind, and don't be afraid to pull punches with me, or say if I've crossed a line. It wouldn't be the first time I've gone to far, as long as I know where the line is," he trailed off, shrugging.

Over the course of the conversation, he had the weird feeling some of the evil glances were now directed at him. Casually looking around, there were more than a few intently watching them. "Devon, is it just me, or have some of your admirers started to give me really dirty looks? I'd find it a wee bit off putting if it wasn't so daft given the situation." Were they jealous that he was talking to someone who could pass for a supermodel?

Artair made it pretty clear whom he wasn’t. He wasn’t one to say no to fun. He wasn’t going to follow blindly. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, swear, drink… It all made Devon grin. It sounded like he really did want to check things out and Devon was happy to oblige.

It was nice to hear him given a little leeway to, at least an offering of such to Devon. Don’t hold back. Tell him if he crosses a line. Keep the line clear but feel free to throw a few jabs over it. That wasn’t a typical response but maybe Artair’s perspective was going to be atypical. That was good, that was valuable in both a Haven member and in a friend. Again, it all made Devon grin.

But the grin dropped as did his brow into a bewildered smirk as he canted his head to one side at Artair’s query. Admirers? Dirty looks? “What?” Devon chuckled, taking his attention off Artair for the first time in a good 15 minutes to glance around. “I can’t imagine that many people have heard of Haven or know of me from Sanctuary…” he said gently, confusion in his tone.

Eyes looked quickly away as they tended to at bars. Devon looked back to his new friend with a quick laugh, “Maybe it’s my clear inability to handle my scotch.” He chuckled, winked a blue orb, and finished off his drink. “Did I not cheer properly? Maybe that’s it. Hopefully no one thinks I gave you a hard time. They might be a bit annoyed I scored this table for four for us two.”

Yeah, Devon might not be as used to alcohol as he was, but that was hardly a fair comparison. Very few people he'd met since coming here had even been able to try and match him, let alone out do him. The guy did seem confused by his statement, but there was probably a wee bit of a language barrier going on. "No mate, I think their problem is more with me than you. They might be a wee bit jealous that I'm the one talking to you." They certainly must have been an odd sight. It was hard to argue that he was somewhat scruffier dressed than Devon was, the three days worth of beard growth didn't help the image much either.

"You're a pretty good looking lad, Devon. Chances are some of them would really like to get to know you better." Artair was having more than a little fun messing with Devon. He was a nice guy, if a little stiff for the Scot. Putting on a more joking tone, "Don't worry about it mate, just poking a wee bit of fun. I also very seriously doubt they'd actually have a problem with you, even if they recognised you."

"Probably shouldn't have another for a while though," pointed at the drink in Devon's hand, "It's pretty strong stuff. It'll sneak up on you if you're not as used to drinking as we Brits are." Booze was pretty much cultural back home and not just because the legal age was lower.

They were quickly reaching a point of losing any useful conversation, alcohol and tiredness would sooner keep distracting them both. "There anything else you want to tell me about Haven or anything else while we're here? Or do you have anything you particularly want to ask me? I'm happy to share." Might as well get any questions out of the way now, before he headed home.

>> "No mate, I think their problem is more with me than you. They might be a wee bit jealous that I'm the one talking to you."

Devon blinked his bright blue eyes at Artair a couple times. His head tilted to one side almost lazily, though it was only some 15 degrees in its cant. His brow narrowed as he continued smiling, but then his eyes widened and his brow jumped. A dopey grin spread across his face and a blush rose to his cheeks.

“Oh.”

Evil stares at Artair? Jealous he was talking Devon? What kind of bar was this? Was it that they wanted something from him or was this romantic – or hrm, maybe sexual – interest? What exactly did they want to talk to him for? Angry women? Men? Both? And why be angry Artair, another man, was talking to Devon. Didn’t guys go hang out at bars all the time?

>> "You're a pretty good looking lad, Devon. Chances are some of them would really like to get to know you better."

The blush deepened and that all too awkward, embarrassed laugh rolled off his tongue. He caught himself thankfully, snapping his mouth shut. He straightened his back and righted his head. Devon knew he had good features; blue eyes and black hair caught attention. He ran almost every day, swam often enough, and was hitting the weights here and there. What had Kirsi called him? Ralph Lauren. Yeah, he got it, but it wasn’t often anyone actually commented on it. That sort of thing was so removed from his day to day.

The last one to flirt with him… What, was that Ambrose? And that date-attempt-to-figure-that-billionaire-out had gone nowhere. The guy had up and split. Devon still wondered how much he’d actually been playing. He wasn’t so sure. I mean, Devon was focused on the mind, not the body, but…

>> "Don't worry about it mate, just poking a wee bit of fun. I also very seriously doubt they'd actually have a problem with you, even if they recognised you."

Was that serious then? Checking him out or had a bone to pick? Maybe anti-mutant people? Devon took another glance around, trying to keep his soft smile and watching a bit carefully for eye contact or anyone familiar. His attention slid back to Artair quickly, “Yeah, that caught me off guard. You sure they’re not wondering why the Scotsman is chatting up the new guy and not some of the ladies at the bar, eh?” Devon chuckled, giving a telling nod.

>> "It's pretty strong stuff. It'll sneak up on you if you're not as used to drinking as we Brits are."

Artair pointed at his drink, the empty glass. “Yeah… I’m not daft, I swear. I’m a little off my game, clearly. I probably should have had some dinner. I missed lunch too,” Devon chuckled. “I’m too defensive lately and well, I don’t hear that sort of thing often, especially from good looking guys with accents,” he chuckled again, his grin warming and widening once more.

“As for Haven, we can talk more about some of the specifics tomorrow or the next day… Whenever you can come by,” Devon nodded. They’d have a serious talk then, in private and with the Natalie and Nate. Oh, and Secret Keeper of course. “But yeah, aside from the medical interests, any other charities or extracurricular you particularly enjoy?” His eyes widened again, “Oh and how do you know Serena?”

Artair was used to putting people off balance since he'd gotten here. Back home his attitude and behaviours were pretty normal, even when considering the UK as a whole. He might not be a fan of the English, but they could take a good joke, roll with the punches. Here it was like people walked on eggshells constantly, always trying to be weirdly friendly with strangers. Now he was just amused by Devon's reactions. Chances are he hadn't really met any wild northerners before and wasn't quite sure how to deal with the bluntness he was used to using.

Grinning at the comment, he could hardly blame to guy. Skipping meals then down a glass of good old whiskey would knock most off their game. To be fair, the only reason Artair wasn't that effected was he'd been drinking it for more years than he really should have been anyways. "Don't often get called good looking mate, but the accent does work wonders over here. You'd be surprised how many lasses chatted me up on the back of that alone." It did work though, something he could always bank on if he was looking for some fun.

Made sense to talk shop in a more private environment, especially about things that may or may not be entirely within legal bounds. "Should be pretty free to meet whenever. I can text you times when I get back to my flat and get a hold of my dairy."

Frowning at the question, had he really only met her a few days ago? "The uni was kind enough to hold my place for me until I was well enough to come here, and what with my medical issues and being a foreign student, they assigned me a student liaison. Apparently I got lucky and got Serena." That had been an, interesting morning. Funny too now that he though back on it, she had somehow beaten out a grumpy, hungover Scotsman's mood with sheer cheeriness and greasy food.

"She was pretty open about being a mutant and after I'd pulled my foot out of mouth, she was the first person I actually told I was." He still couldn't accurately explain why he had told her. "After that she gave me some good advice, left me with a few numbers of organisations that could help me. Yours was among them." The fact he wasn't connected to the police helped in Artair's mind. Them he didn't trust.