Apartment hunting was expensive and exhausting, which was the worst kind of combination. New York was notorious for expensive housing, and Marisol was feeling that now that she officially had to move out of the dorms for her upcoming semester.

With the class hours she had cut to allow her time to focus on her role in First Position, even if she was getting bonus credits for the show, she did not qualify for on-campus housing. Her mother offered to help, and while Marisol would begrudgingly accept it to get started, she did not want to rely on her mom who had already done so much to get her where she was. She needed to find a situation she could realistically afford.

Beyond money, the challenge of finding a new apartment came down to time and energy. Time had been tight throughout the season. Marisol had been juggling classwork, rehearsals, and a part-time job. Between classes at the Performing Arts High School she was still unfortunately dealing with and the most physically demanding show she had ever been a part of, her body was spent each night.

Not that she was complaining; recently, Marisol was making the intentional decision to go as hard as she was. Everything was getting her devoted attention and effort. She was not going to let any of the balls she was juggling fall to the ground again.

She was fine.

Totally fine.

She plopped into a booth at the small café, not sure how she got there. She was in Harlem; that was where the most recent potential apartment was. It was cute, but still pricey with just her. She thought about the people she could lure into a potential roommate situation. One colorful person popped in her head, silencing that line of thought.

Why were her eyes stinging now? Exhaustion, probably. Maybe that was why she walked into a café? A coffee sounded necessary right now. The circles under her eyes trying to poke through her carefully crafted makeup would agree. She buried her face in her menu, trying to get a grasp of where she was and what she would order.

”Zaid! Come out here please, I have customers waiting to be helped and I need you to deal with it!”

Not again... If Zaid knew he would be dealing with people so much this week he would have stayed home. His boss was torturing him this week, he was certain of it. First, she announced that he could no longer wear his beanie out front. Despite all his complaints about his ears and causing distractions, she refused to listen. In fact, he was starting to think the ears were the cause of it. Once she realized she had a bunny mutant on staff, the outfits got a little, different. This morning, she handed him an apron and he felt like it was a joke at first.

”Why is it pink?”

”The customers will love it! Your adorable, Zaid! You will get way better tips like this, I swear! Just use that pretty face and smile and go do your job!”

Zaid was pretty sure there was something wrong about all of this. Yes, she called him pretty. Was she trying to market him as a girl? Then why were so many girls staring? Did he want guys to stare? No, they were the ones who made him feel like a bug under a microscope. Now, he had to take orders from the seated patrons. With a pink apron. Stars, he hated this job.

”Do you know what you would like?” Zaid tried to keep a cheerful demeanor but the apron felt like it was draining all of his energy. Please let this be Ofer soon.[/i][/i]

Marisol was going through the motions, seemingly with everything. She was still her, so those motions were precise and in time, but she felt like a zombie who knew ballet, not a ballerina. Classes were finally over; that would make things better. There was a “spark” she was struggling to find on stage, and she told her director she’d find it again when the semester was over. Honestly though? She was barely aware of where she was right now, let alone her spark.

With her last three brain cells focused on her menu, the greeting of server took three full seconds to register. When she finally glanced up, her tired eyes widened to figure out what she was seeing. The server was a mutant with… rabbit ears? Floppy ones. Okay, that was very cute. And a cute pink apron to match, which made it very difficult to figure out one key thing.

”Um, hello ma’am. Sir? I’m sorry, um. What was the question?” The moment she asked, the words finally clicked in her head and she hastily answered before the waiter could repeat the question. ”Oh. Coffee. Please, coffee.” For all the time she spent staring at the menu, Marisol had failed to read what kind of coffee she wanted to order.

”Your floppy ears are nice, by the way,” Marisol spat out before her brain could think about why that might not be polite.

When Zaid approached the customer he had no idea how quickly she would strike a nerve. In fact, it was almost a record how swift she attacked his already dying ego. Ma’am? Whooosh, strike one! Your floppy ears— Whoosh, strike two! —are nice. Screeeeech, strike three, Zaid was outta there! He turned, and in the most professional manner he could muster, he ran to the back of the shop with his hands clamped over his unexpectedly floppy ears, brain NOPEing him out of that situation before she could realize what happened. His coworker saw the look on his face as he turned tail, trapped behind the counter with her impossible dance of recreating drinks.

”Zaid! ZAID! Don’t leave me like this, dude! You can change aprons, just get your tail back out here!”

Tail! oh stars, the whole cafe must have heard the yell. His life was over. He was finding a box to hide in and never never coming back out ever ever, money be damned! It didn’t matter that his ears got their feeling back when he got far enough away, he was a droopy eared rabbit in misery by that time, in a pink apron.

Up front, his coworker did the logical thing: she pointed one exasperated finger at the customer, jabbed it over her shoulder, and glared, ”You, go fix that! Or no one here is getting any coffee!” anyone who dared snicker at the situation was silenced with the prospect of losing their closest caffeine source.

It took several seconds for Marisol to realize what was happening. The waiter walked away without saying anything, leaving her blinking in confusion until she assumed he was going back to get her order, as incomplete as it might be.

Evidently, this was not the case, as one of the female employees pointed aggressively at her, prompting Marisol to point at herself in response. The tone suggested the exhausted dancer had successfully screwed that interaction up. Now the fate of everyone’s coffee rested on her. In any other situation, she’d question why she was being ordered around as a customer, but she could not form a logical thought like that. She could follow the bunny boy and apologize.

Getting to her feet, she took hasty steps toward the back area of the café until she found wherever the server was hiding away. Warily, Marisol peeked her head around the corner just in time to see his ears flop. Duh. That was her fault, because of course it was.

”Hey. I, um, recognize I said something stupid,” she admitted nervously, hating confrontation anywhere but on stage. ”I’m not the best at… well, talking. To people. And I’m sorta seeing double as is right now. I wouldn’t want to be a jerk to a guy I just met, promise.” The octave of his voice and his co-worker calling him dude had her like ninety-eight percent sure he was a guy, but she prayed she was not walking into misgendering him again. ”Are you… um, okay?”

Zaid was contemplating the best way to leave the cafe unnoticed when his ears went slack again. Stars, that was the strangest feeling in the world. He lifted one hand to his ear, lifted it, and felt it fall again. It was like something stopped his rabbit appendages from listening.

Then he heard a voice. He turned, seeing the customer from up front, her apology sounding a little different through his floppy ears. It was actually a little nice how much quieter things were. His lip trembled though and he crossed his arms stubbornly. ”It’s not you. It’s everyone. Stupid apron, stupid ears, stupid girly face!” he wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much today. Normally he took people calling him pretty as a compliment, and he embraced the little feminine quirks he had. Things had been getting more personal though. After two run-ins with thugs, and several girls this week wanting to hover around him like he was in a pet store, he was feeling drained.

”You’re only back here for the coffee anyway.” he pouted. He felt like he was ten and not 20 right now. Maybe he was just digging for more comfort in a world that was awfully mean today.

Marisol had an interesting relationship with mutants, because she liked most of the ones she had met, but many mutants felt very uncomfortable in her presence. Not all; Celestina and Skye both liked the reduced chance of blowing up, (which made Marisol wonder why her type boiled down to girls who might explode.) She got the impression this bunny boy was less thrilled about the loss of control in his ears.

Coming back here was probably a mistake. She could have left for another café. Still, she felt bad about making this guy upset, even if she was struggling to get enough brainpower together to fully understand how she did it.

Fortunately, he was loose-lipped with what was upsetting him. Clearly, he was having a rough morning. She felt for him, and did her best not to infantilize his issues because he had such a soft appearance. ”Admittedly, the scary girl in the other apron did encourage me to come back here, but I also don’t want me being foggy and dense to make your day worse.”

Stepping into the room, Marisol slid down the wall beside the doorway until she joined the waiter in sitting on the ground. ”It sounds like it sucks,” she admitted. ”But is it so bad? I know it’s not a stereotypical guy thing, but being cute has its perks. Heck, I think you have a very nice face.” She would elect not to point out that her dating history had been exclusively female, so it made sense she’d find a guy’s face with more feminine features to be aesthetically pleasing.

”I guess I can see why the apron would bug you if it wasn’t your choice. I can still remember some costumes I’d like to go back and burn as a sacrifice.” Firebringer came to mind, which led to an involuntary shudder.

As the girl spoke, Zaid was feeling a bit regretful for being rude. It wasn’t like him, really. Usually he tried to respond with sass and optimism when life was rough, but everyone had that final nerve that just made them snap. Apparently, this had been his.

He rubbed his forehead. Maybe she wasn’t the only one needing a strong cup of coffee. ”The scary girl in the apron has a way of doing that. She can act like a mom around the store, which is good and bad. “ At least Layne wasn’t trying to set him up with anyone today. He never knew if she would pick a guy or a girl to send his way. ”I...know I overreacted.... and thanks for the compliment. Normally I don’t mind being cute, but I...” What did he want to say? Being cute was bringing all the wrong attention? Being cute wasn’t helping discourage bullies?

”There are times it feels more like I’m a puppy in a pet store than a guy. And some days I would just actually like to be taken seriously as a guy.” Ah, there was an underlying frustration there. He blamed it on his developing feelings toward people in general. When you wanted to date but it was hard enough liking the same gender only to find out most of them saw you as a stuffed animal more than a human .

”I don’t think Layne meant to upset me either. If I was in a good mood I probably could get better tips.” he breathed deeper. He needed to pull it together. He wasn’t selfish, he could do thing! Then he noticed how tired she looked. He wriggled to his feet and collected a coffee cup, motioning to her. ”Maybe we should start over, like normal people. Coffee? Type? I know my ears are still down but I’m trying to look more optimistic about this. Wait, are you doing that?” as he processed his emotions he realized his ears lost feeling again when she came back here. He tried wiggling his tail. Nothing their either. This was weird....

Marisol understood what it was like to be at wit’s end, where everything seemed to rub you the wrong way. Lately, she was living in that headspace. The last thing she wanted to do was fault him for being sensitive.

With so many experiences with mutants, Marisol needed to be conscious of the ways their particular lives could suck more than her. ”That sounds unfair, honestly. You should be able to be cute and taken seriously. My… er, my friend.” Oh, ouch. That really stung to say out loud. No need to dwell on that. ”She had a flashy physical mutation, but it wasn’t like she was a novelty. You and your cute ears are still serious and valid… er. Oh Christ, I never got your name. Marisol. Is mine. By the way.”

Yes, Marisol was all over the place, but this kind, wonderful man was willing to give her a lifeline. Coffee. Sweet, life-sustaining coffee. Unfortunately, he also put two and two together on one other key details. Wincing, she admitted, ”So, yeah… I’m an Adapted. Not sure if you’ve heard of us. Mutants seven feet or closer to me have their powers sorta… off-switched? Sorry, I should have told you, but we’ve had a lot on our plates.” She sighed, getting back to her feet, following his lead. ”I’d love to start over. Coffee will help. I promise I am a more normal, almost pleasant person when I’m not running on two hours of sleep and no caffeine.”

Zaid quirked his head at the girls description. His ears would not quirk with him but at least some of his body language remained. Flashy mutation? That seemed a little vague. To him, flashy sounded like a description for a bird or an exotic dancer, and that gave him a mental image of a peacock mutation, which wasn’t quite in line with the comment of notbeing a novelty. you and your cute ears are still serious and valid. That...was probably the first time someone said he could be cute and yet still valid at the same time. It was a warming feeling.

”Thanks. It actually does help to hear that.” He messed with his hair and looked up at the introduction. ”Oh, I’m Zaid. Nice to meet you, uh formally.”

Adapted... the word triggered memories from talking with Javier. ”Ih, someone mentioned Adapteds to me. I didn’t realize THIS was what he meant. I guess I’m glad I at least have my ears still. I’ve never had human ones so I think that would have been more frightening,” he decided.

”If we are starting over, I guess I’ll need a more specific drink order, or you’ll end up with whatever black concoction is in this pot back here. I’m sure the caffeine content will kickstart you but I’m told it tasted like the seven layers of hell going down.” he warned.

A genuine effort was made to rebuild the bridge Marisol accidentally burned. She did not want to take back calling Zaid cute; he was, and it was undeniable. He would hear that likely for the rest of his days. This was the burden of being cute. Instead, she wanted to make it clear she felt cute did not have to be a bad word for him. He could be a man who was also cute; toxic masculinity be damned.

Marisol’s kind were not widely known—not like the mutants whose powers they were able to negate. For some mutants, her presence was surprising, or even terrifying if they never knew a life without their powers. ”It doesn’t seem to affect everyone uniformly. I knew a girl once who went from being a gargoyle to a wingless human colored tan rather than gray. Though for the record, I’m glad you kept the ears, too.” Even just meeting the young man, it seemed like a signature look. ”Sorry for, er, floppifying them.” Yep. That was absolutely close enough to a real word.

Getting back on the same page as they prepared to return to the restaurant proper, Zaid warned her what her drink order might result in. Marisol winced, because she often drank black coffee for its strength and lack of nutritional downsides. She also knew not all black coffee was created equally. ”Ah, well, fair point. I think I saw a mocha latte or something on the menu? I usually avoid drinks like that because of work, but I can’t pretend it doesn’t sound amazeballs.” Where had she even picked up that term? She could hear Tío Jorge shaking his head in disappointment.

Floppifying...yes, they definitely were floppy. No matter how much the muscles wanted to twitch, or shift, he could get no sign of life from them. The world, in fact, seemed much quieter with them flat on his hair. Actually, a lot felt a bit different. He felt like he was having a horrible stuffy nose and even scents were difficult to make out. Oh, but the relief of not smelling coffee beans burning their stench into the back of his throat! That part, he was okay with.

"I feel like that would be a strange ability to have. And that's coming from someone with rabbit ears, to be frank. The radius part is a bit unique. So if you just walk down the street powers randomly turn off around you? I could not handle that power trip." He admitted sheepishly. Actually, he was a little immature sometimes. There was a part of his brain that would want to make someone's mutation appear and disappear just by stepping close, then stepping away again. Would that happen? He wanted to test it. Stars, he was almost 21 and found the idea of making someone's wings disappear and reappear was hilarious.

He needed to stop reading so much manga.

"A mocha latte sounds like a good place to start," Zaid agreed. He grabbed supplies, and started quickly putting the drink together. "Layne is great at recommendations if you ever want one. Just pop up to the counter sometime and she will help you out. Well, when we aren't as busy." He poked his head around the door frame. Actually, the rush seemed to have vanished as quickly as it came. "They come, they drink, they leave..." He chanted to himself. Layne raised an eyebrow at him and he pointed at the drink in his hand. She waved him back as if realizing he still needed a minute. She was one of the few people who cared about his emotional well being.

"Uh, here," He handed her the cup and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry for freaking out on you. Your day doesn't look like it's been much better than mine."

It was clear Zaid’s experiences with adapteds were limited, which right away told her he was not connected to the Mansion. Auntie Gemma was a fixture there, so almost anyone who came through those massive doors had first-hand experience with Adapteds.

”It usually doesn’t mean much to my everyday life,” she admitted. ”Mutants aren’t super common, though there are way more of you here than back in Cali. Plus, I keep putting myself in situations where I’m constantly around mutants. So nevermind, it affects my everyday life literally all the time.” Seriously, for someone with her powerset, you would think she would stop getting close to every mutant she crossed paths with.

Marisol felt bad for occupying Zaid’s time, both by invoking a breakdown and now stealing one-on-one time as he made her drink. Thankfully, the place did clear out quickly, which was a burden of guilt somewhat lifted from her shoulders.

Taking the drink, she took a sip before saying anything else. Sweet caffeine. She would even take the sugar boost at this point. ”No, freakout was valid. I was rude because honestly? I’m tired as all hell. Just finally finished school, been killing myself at rehearsals, and apartment hunting sucks when I didn’t think I’d be doing it alone three months ago.”

Marisol took another sip before blinking at herself. ”Wow. That was me unloading on you. Sorry. What’s been on your plate? The burden of pink, or has something else been bugging you?” Please help me distance myself from the honest moment that just slipped out of my stupid mouth.

Freakout was valid. Okay, she was redeeming herself. Zaid was calmed when people treated him with genuine behavior. This girl was keen to remind him that his emotions, whether positive or negative, were his right to have. That...was an unusual type of attitude these days. He was so used to people telling him to calm down, or get it together. It was another thing when someone just reminded him it was okay to have a bad day. How much easier would it be just to be able to be human for a moment, and not have to worry that everyone was silently judging your meltdown into madness?

"I stopped after high school, but I can imagine it would be rough trying to go any further. And last time I apartment hunted, I am pretty sure I started molting the fur off my ears with stress. It's expensive in the city, and any sensation of independence you start with gets squashed by New Yorkers very quickly," he consoled.

He smiled, an expression that reached his eyes. He didn't give this smile very often because it tended to give the wrong impression to girls around here, and he did not need to chase away any more of them than he had to. But she seemed like she could use the comfort. "The pink is really not too bad. Just, honestly, a crush. We have a date coming up again soon, and then some guys in this area kept picking on me. I just, I've just been having trouble feeling comfortable in my own skin I guess. Do you ever get that? You really want someone to like you back, but you don't even know if you like you..." There, he was unloading his own baggage. That was part of the process of building connections, after all. Mutual shame and awkwardness.

Marisol was used to emotions that could sometimes get volatile. Skye was a woman who ran on emotions, wearing them on her hair. While this was a helpful cheat sheet, it was a better study tool. Marisol had a better recognition of people who might be dealing with an emotional outburst. It kept her patient. That wasn’t why they broke up, after all.

Okay, not the thing to think about. Sip your latte, Marisol.

”Thanks, but I actually just finished up high school too,” she admitted. ”Well, performing arts high school, which I guess counts. Had to finish up an extra semester to graduate.” Which sucked, because it meant she was graduating virtually alone, with no pomp or circumstance. Then again, a graduation ceremony would be just another task to deal with, so maybe this was best.

It was comforting to know Zaid understood the apartment struggle, but Marisol was ready to focus on the rabbit for a bit. He had his own issues, not all extending from his wardrobe. Marisol grinned warmly, excited for this stranger. The grin faltered as he expressed his own insecurities and the things he was struggling with. ”I know that feeling. Two years ago, I finally had my first crush. I thought I was broken til then, and it always bothered me; I’d never even heard of demisexuality at that point.” It somehow felt easy coming out conversationally with Zaid. She was not panicking that he might judge her or tell her demisexuality wasn’t a thing.

”I crushed on my friend, but got totally in my head about things. She started dating a guy, and it sucked,” and a petty part of Marisol was still grumpy at the guy called Jude, ”But it happened again and I focused on her instead of my self-conscious jitters and it worked.”

And she was doing tired rambling, so she should find her point again. ”You seem nice, and I am pretty sure people who find guys cute would totally think you’re great. So if you like this person, don’t focus on bullies or the negative voice in your head. As someone once told me, they’ll go home to be sad, alone, and insecure. And you’ll go home with your cute date.” She added a playful wink at the end, because it felt like it fit.