"Ow! Easy on the arm Allison! You'll tear it off!"

It was a bit embarrassing to be dragged through the streets of New York like the child that didn't want to go to the dentist. However both he and Allison had just discovered that the ink of his promise tattoos could not leave the body. That was all well and good except when the red head was using that ink to drag him along the streets a full foot behind her clenched hand.

To clarify somewhat, Allison had called him earlier demanding that he meet her up somewhere so she could change his tattoo. Drew had been expecting this so he went right along with it. At least until he showed up and it turned out that she'd had no plans at all to alter his tattoo. Well beyond a minor touch up here and there by shifting around some of the black ink from his promise tattoos. He suspected he hadn't even needed that much and that she'd just been lulling him into a false sense of security. In either case she'd tried to remove some only to find out that she couldn't. That was a shock. At least to him anyway. Well one thing led to another and Allison attempted to haul him off to some performance art exhibition.

Now to be fair he didn't dislike mimes, contortionist, fire eaters, living statues and the like. Drew just didn't like being dragged along under false pretense. So he'd attempted to reclaim his arm and leave. Only to have Allison seize hold of his promise ink and drag him along. That led to this, being dragged along behind a grumbling red head with all the black ink from his tattoo condensed onto his fingers and those outstretched in front of his as though he were reaching for something.

“If you bothered to have fun on your own, I wouldn’t have to make you,” Allison answered, sounding a bit sulkier than she really felt. Which was, indeed, only a bit sulky, and really very much amused. She tilted her head a bit as she continued, thinking, and glanced back at the boy (well, he’d probably insist on ‘man,’ but whatever) she was dragging behind her with conveniently special ink. “Plus, I think I’d be more worried about your fingers, really. Much easier to remove fingers than arms, I’d guess.”

Some minutes of dragging-by ink (and bewildered, amused, disgusted or other various looks which Allison ignored) later, they reached the art festival. It was a little more festival and a little less performance than Allison had planned, but then, whoever set it up would probably just say that the entire thing was their art, so it worked. I am become Art, decorator of worlds. ...That sounds a little less intimidating than Death. There were several areas, some of which could and some of which could not be called stages, where obvious art was going on, some tables that Allison was fairly certain weren’t performance art but you never could tell, and some people and areas that she really had no clue about. Allison paused, shrugged, and headed toward a nearby cluster of tables, still focusing a large part of the back of her mind on dragging Andrew’s promise ink, and so Andrew as well, after her. Him escaping would be disappointing, but letting him escape with all the ink drained down to his hand like that would border on criminal; she would at least have to fix it before letting him go.

Garrett hated mimes. He wasn't sure why. There were no mime related traumas in his past and he was fairly confident that they were artists and had some sort of skill, but whenever they came near him, he started to twitch a bit. Now here was one, in the mime uniform of black and white, doing that walking against the wind routine. Was there nothing new for them to do? The guy was blocking the view of his table, so he looked at him sternly, only producing an exaggerated frown from the 'artist'. " Yeah, walking against the wind. Do you know 'Unconscious on the Ground'? You might. Shoo." The mime acted as if an invisible crook grabbed his neck and pulled him away. Whatever did the trick.

Once he had received a go ahead from Lori on the Sanctuary, Garrett took some initiative and contacted various local events to see if he could set up his MORA booth there. Visibility was key, as well as the possible recruitment of mutants to the hallowed halls of the Sanctuary. With RUPERT seemingly under the radar, he decided to keep his non profit in operation and use it as it was to promote mutant brotherhood. He still had a heart, you see. He was now just certain that it was a mutant heart and someone had to step up to work with his people. Why not him?

While the Arts Fair wasn't a prime target, there was always the possibility of mutants coming for enjoyment or to blend in with others who didn't necessarily fit in. His eyes instinctively flashed at the harassing mime on that note. The table was of the folding variety, with brochures for Faust Pharmaceuticals, Full Circle Bookstore, The Iris Clinic, and a sign up sheet with contact information. In khakis and a white polo, he sat beneath a large red banner held by two poles which read

Mutant Outreach Resource Alliance

Drew rolled his eyes at Allison's retort.

"I do have fun, I just happen to have other things that require more attention. I don't exactly have the luxury of goofing off all day. Besides, I wouldn't have to worry about the fingers or arms if you'd just let go."

He'd been in a fairly good mood when he'd answered the phone. That was why he'd come. The good mood hadn't really lasted after Allison pulled this little stunt. Drew was fast becoming very nearly mad at her. It was more than just annoyance but not quite anger just yet. Not that it made much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. For all his complaints Allison still managed to drag him to this art festival thing that she'd found out about. Somehow it didn't surprise him at all that she'd decided to drag him here. Allison fit right in among these people, with the way she acted most of the time.

Yet she didn't even let him go when they arrived. No she merely dragged him along behind her toward a group of tables. This was to be how he spent his free time today huh? Being dragged along by a slightly insane mutant tattoo artist bound and determined to make him as nutty as she was. It wasn't exactly what he'd pictured for today. Drew sighed as she pulled him along and looked at the tables. Most of it didn't even rate a second look. It was either boring or just plain weird. However the banner above one table and the man behind it caught his eye.

The banner read, "Mutant Outreach Resource Alliance" and the man at the table looked positively normal. After the mimes, oddly dressed performers, and just strange people it was rather refreshing to see. Drew turned his gaze to the ink pooled on his fingers and glared. If only a certain crazy girl would let him go.

“If I let go now, you’d just run and then your tattoo would be a black hand. Apart from being every evil cliche combined, that would just look stupid. You are at least staying until you’re tired enough to sit while I make something new without running.” Allison nodded firmly, though probably just to herself for all that Andrew would care.

Another glance back at Andrew led Allison to follow his gaze to a banner reading “Mutant Outreach Resource Alliance,” and a table with a quite unmutated looking person sitting at it. Of course, neither Allison nor Andrew looked mutated, either... unless you counted Drew’s temporarily black hand... so that was hardly a standard. She veered slightly off her course--she’d been interested in a table a bit down, with paintings that really reminded her of nothing so much as a classmate who was known for coming into art (and every other) class high, but they’d still be there, and she didn’t want Andrew to hate her that much.

No matter what his opinion on that fact might be at the moment....

Nervous tension. It meant so much more than the stock reference when it came to one like Garrett. Possibly the only one. While his gifts aided him in most confrontations, on a day to day basis, it could really be a drag to be anywhere fun. And for a twenty four year old, that basically killed most leisurely pursuits in Manhattan. He had been to the clubs and ...no. The lights, loud music, throngs of people and their bustling, chemically altered nervous systems was a bit too much. Simply because he wasn't using his gift didn't mean that his highly refined nervous system wasn't streaming data in at all times.

So the Art Fair was becoming a slight headache. Taking in each performer would have been fine, but the cacophony of color, sound and movement was taxing him slightly. He would need a nice nap in a black room after this. Looking down at the clipboard, inverted as it faced possible signers, Garrett thought the turnout was fair, especially considering the venue. He casually looked at his wristwatch. He'd give it another hour and then pack his bags for Powernapville.

A new burst of sound and motion came to a general careening halt before him as a guy and girl, behaving as partners, slowed to a stop before him. The girl was pretty, fresh with a sheen of something. Innocence or glitter. The boy, dark and brooding. Maybe he didn't want to be at the fair. Or with her. The infectious smile and exuberance of the little lady made that a quandary. nevertheless, it was time to do his thing. He chose to speak to the girl since Glumbutt seemed unapproachable. " Hello there. Having a good day? Thanks for stopping by." Rising from his seat, his hand extended out. " Garrett Wills. You guys mutants?"

She had a point about the tattoo and he knew it.

"You know I wouldn't run off until you fixed it."

Allison dragged him over to the booth he'd been eying. He doubted it was because she had any real interest in it. So it was probably a conciliatory gesture on her part. While he still wasn't happy that she'd outright dragged him here under the idea that he didn't have enough fun he figured there was no point in staying angry at Allison. It was done with a good, if entirely misguided, purpose in mind. No point in harshing the happy mood he'd been in most days for that.

Of course the person at the booth, one Garrett Wills, apparently decided that because of his ill mood or the fact that he had absolutely nothing to outwardly display him as mutant there was no point talking to him. He instead addressed Allison. Drew decided not to let it bother him too much since he was trying to get back to that happy mood he'd had before being kidnapped. The final bit of the greeting was addressed to both of them though. Drew gave Garrett a small smile.

"Yes."

The simplest answer was best. Drew had learned to be proud of what he was but you could never be too careful in a crowd.

“No, I don’t. You’re certainly acting like you would.” Allison didn’t look away from the table as she took the last few steps to it and stopped, letting her eyes wander quickly over everything in sight before settling on the man behind the table and smiling.

He greeted her and held his hand out. Allison nodded, grinning, and started to reach for his hand before realizing she was using her right hand to hold Andrew. “Erm... just a second.” She spun around, getting her left hand close enough to reach for the ink with it instead, spun back and reached out to shake Garrett’s hand. She knew she technically didn’t need to be physically reaching for the ink at all, but it helped her concentrate, and if she was going to talk and hold onto Andrew at the same time, she’d need the help. “And yes, if that didn’t answer you, I am. ...Too,” she added, considering Andrew’s much faster response.

She very deliberately did not answer about her day; dragging Andrew out had seemed like a good distraction from a quite annoying argument and... well, it was an effective distraction, but not quite as fun as the last time she’d seen him. “How are you? What is this?” She tilted her head to indicate the table and banner.

A finely tuned nervous system brought many subtle nuances to light. The small smile and shift of eyes at his question made Glumbutt seem more likeable. Perhaps Garrett had misjudged him and he was more Antisocialbutt. Either way, the two of them were mutants, which made his presence at the fair easily worth the mime assaults. The flesh of his hand met hers and she began to sparkle further. He released it after the obligatory shake and let go before he could see more than he wanted to.

His hands flourished to the table and banner as if they were much more grand than they might initially appear outwardly. " This.." His hands returned ot the table, the cool fake wood comforting his fingertips. " ...is the Mutant Outreach Resource Alliance. It is a network for mutants to find services that they may need that the human world may not be able to offer. As you might suspect, I am a mutant myself." He paused briefly, sorting his thoughts so as not to start preaching. They could come to Sanctuary Services for that kind of thing.

" All of our work is not for profit. We only seek to bring our own kind together and provide a resource for them. I was homeless when I first came here and what would have been hard enough was compounded by my racial status." He chose racial over genetic. Obviously. " I hope you might have a look at the Iris Clinic should you find yourself needing medical attention. They can treat things that are sometimes overlooked by the mainstream. Faust Pharmaceuticals is also a mutant friendly venture. The Full Circle is a popular gathering place for mutants to enjoy a hassle free scial environment. If you two know of anyone in need or perhaps are yourselves, I am happy to help."

He didn't bother dignifying Allison's return comment with a reply. She would think what she wanted no matter what he said. At least that's what his previous experience with Allison had told him. She was an interesting girl in her own way. Equal measures intriguing and infuriating with a hefty dose of stubborn. Drew focused his attention to Garrett and his table. He had quite a speech lined up to promote this thing. Drew listened carefully. Dealing with Martin had retaught him the importance of words, a lesson he'd forgotten while living safely in the mansion.

It all sounded very nice and noble. He was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt and say that it was noble if only to try and further improve his mood. The word out of the whole bunch that he actively noticed though was racial. He chose to refer to mutants not as a genetic abnormality of humans but as a different race altogether. If they weren't in the middle of a bustling street fair Drew might have questioned him on it. He didn't fancy being over heard by so many people having such a discussion though. Drew spared a glance over at Allison to see what she thought before dragging another smile out.

"A worthy cause and it is good know of these places."

None of them were places that he actively recognized though the Iris Clinic name did ring something of a bell. Maybe he'd been there once, Drew couldn't quite recall one way or the other. Not that it mattered. He lapsed back into silence. Garrett had chosen Allison to talk to so she could do the majority of the talking. He'd just stand back, watch, listen, and maybe learn something.

Allison kept an interested smile throughout his speech, despite steadily increasing annoyance at her own mind. And she was interested, to some degree. She just had to get past the cynical voice she’d developed to deal with politicians and organizations asking for money, first.

“...services that they may need that the human world may not be able to offer.”

We’re the only resource for what we offer.

“All of our work is not for profit.”

We’re doing this out of our own goodness, and not to take advantage of you.

“We only seek to bring our own kind together....”

Create a community and support network, or a militia, depending on the leaders’ opinions....

“I was homeless when I first came here and what would have been hard enough was compounded by my racial status.”

Personal story, proof they do what they say they do to help people who need it. Also, racial. Which is kind of absurd seeing as mutations don’t really fit any scientific definition of a race, just a lot of coincidences, but provides a sense of belonging that most people will appreciate....

“I hope you might have a look at the Iris Clinic should you find yourself needing medical attention. They can treat things that are sometimes overlooked by the mainstream.”

We can help you in ways that normal... well, with this topic, probably ‘mere’ humans would never think needs help.

“Faust Pharmaceuticals is also a mutant friendly venture. The Full Circle is a popular gathering place for mutants to enjoy a hassle free social environment. If you two know of anyone in need or perhaps are yourselves, I am happy to help.”

And a triad of examples, including both medical help and another offer of community, and an opening to ask for more information for a friend, in case someone doesn’t want to admit they’re the one who needs the help, or that they need actual, genuine help, and not just a social circle.

...I wonder, if I completely avoid anything vaguely political for the rest of my life, could I maybe unlearn the cynical dissecting crap habit? I like being happy, thank you very much, brain. She grinned happily anyway, and moved a bit closer to look at the brochures on the table. “No one that I know anyway, but I like the idea. How long has it been around? What else do you do?”

A real wild bunch, those two. He could almost see the analysis of their minds running over him like some kind of scanning device. He had done his bit, now they were generally clamming up. Stoicbutt was in agreement as if he were a Vulcan and the girl seemed to reach a point where the data stream had been computated and her face turned back on. Garrett wondered if he pulled their shirts up, would he find buttons on their backs? Now he remembered why he liked Scotch. He'd have one later. Or three.

“No one that I know anyway, but I like the idea. How long has it been around? What else do you do?”

Quite a flurry and could be answered in many ways. Humans would get the thin lipped version but these two would not. Brief and concise. Robot/Vulcan speak it would be, for easiest translation. " MORA is relatively new, though the partners have been in establishment for various years. Unfortunately, humans really don't want us mucking about in their business, unless of course they need us for something they can't do. I, personally, am the Public Relations Director for the Sanctuary. You may have heard of our golden doors, always open to the wayward mutant." Yes, that seemed about right. To the point. Garrett thought to himself that he might try that way of speaking, since it was no secret that many an eye rolled when he got some steam.

" Either way, would you mind leaving some contact info? I will also give you guys my card." A small black case came from his pocket, snapping open to reveal his little babies. he fingered two and handed them to the young pair. " Do you have any questions?"

Allison handled the talking nicely. Or at least well enough to get this Garrett person talking again. Frankly these sort of specifics were a little dull and Drew was losing interest. At least until Garrett mentioned the Sanctuary. One of his eyebrows inched upward a little as he looked at Garrett. Drew didn't remember him from his tour of the place with Lori and a PR director seems like something she might mention. Drew hadn't paid a visit the the Sanctuary in a little while though so maybe he was new there? Garrett didn't seem that new to this but Drew was probably over thinking it. He accepted the card with only a glance at it before he pulled out his wallet to put the card there for safe keeping.

"The Sanctuary huh? I've been there before. Lori is...an interesting person to know."

He turned his attention to the contact sheet and left what information he was comfortable with giving. That was pretty much just his name and cellphone number.

"I don't think you were there when I toured the place. How long have you been working there?"

Done with the contact sheet, Drew's attention went back to Garrett. Allison probably had questions too but this time he was more interested in asking questions of his own than just listening to the answers to hers. The Sanctuary quite frankly fascinated him. He didn't think he could ever live there but the idea and the people were interesting at least. Plus he felt it was good to have someplace else to send the people that just couldn't last at the mansion.

No, actually, Allison hadn’t heard of any golden-doored sanctuaries--and why did her head have an image of a church in it now? Get out--but the description was more than enough to tell her plenty about the place. Or, at least, about Garrett’s opinion of the place; quite high, and righteous, and compassionate.

To mutants. But, well, she couldn’t blame them too much for that; she had yet to meet any organization that helped everyone equally. She’d help her friends over strangers, too.

That Drew had been there was surprising, and somewhat reassuring. Mutant-only groups could be a bit... militant, at times, and Drew didn’t seem too likely to go along with that. Bitter and resentful, certainly, but not the kind of blind hate that let people go out and kill others unprovoked. So Allison stayed quiet as Drew talked this time, taking the contact sheet when he finished and adding her name, phone number and an email before putting it back on the table and absently picking up one of the bookstore fliers to examine with half her attention while half listened to Drew and Garrett. Medical things weren’t to her interest, really, but bookstores... well, she always had some level of interest in what was, essentially, competition, no matter how low level the competition was.