The door slammed hard as Dougie came into his room, with tears running down his chubby cheeks. He dropped onto the carpeted floor, laying out the object he held so tightly. It was a toy robot that could turn into a plane, or it was a few minutes earlier. Now it was the pieces left from the toy after Jimmy stepped on it.

Dougie was so tired of his classmates picking on him. Everyone had their own gifts at the Mansion, and no one else was teased about their abilities. Dougie was not a "baby" because he liked his toys-- especially because of his bond with them.

His gift was so good! It was so strong! And if they could not understand that, they'd have to learn that! That thought felt good in Dougie's mind as he slowly felt himself fading to sleep...

***

School was right around the corner, and for Nate, that meant spending more of his time at the Mansion, preparing his lesson plans, and making sure his classroom was stocked with the wide variety of necessities for mutant art classes. His last experience with Skydancer gave Nate the idea of a body-paint class by having students paint their arms and faces; it would be a fun easy class to pull out around Thanksgiving.

Nate had a meeting with one of the younger students at the Mansion coming up. The young boy was a nice kid named Dougie who seemed to trust Nate but generally did not get along as well with others. He had a love of toys that some other kids teased him about, but he showed plenty of promise for someone who was nine years old. The meeting was to ask Dougie if he would want to move up to a more advanced class where he could be more challenged and possibly have a more mature group of classmates.

Done with his paperwork for the day, Nate had only two things to wait for: his meeting and Quin graciously bringing him something to eat. Since they reunited, things were fine, but that was the best word he had for the situation; it did not feel "better." They were back to going on dates and spending time together, but there was an obvious divide still in place from the news that broke them up in the first place. He hated the awkward tension, but he loved Quin, so he could only hope things would improve with time.

Since the best he could do was wait, Nate started examining the body paints that would be used for his experimental class idea. He took some black and grey and purple and started drawing swirls and spirals on his forearms. It was nice to have a stable adult job sometimes.

Lunch. Lunch was simple enough. Lunch was normal, and they were still moving slowly. Quin nodded to herself as she walked up to the doors of The Mansion. Taking things slowly was good, especially when you were still trying to deal with the fact that your boyfriend had lied to you from the day you'd met. When reconciling the fact that he was actually a recovering con-man trying to make a life, and an identity, for himself in New York. That you were a cop and you were letting him do that.

It took some suspension of belief, a lot of convincing, and a little bit of cajoling, but Quin could almost convince herself that everything was okay. At least they were trying, anyway. Stephen had meant too much to her to simply walk away, and there had already been times, wonderful moments recently when it felt like everything just might be okay. Hopefully lunch would be another step in the right direction.

Someone, probably one of the students, let Quin into the school, and led her towards the office Stephen had told her to find. Leaving her at the door, the kid skipped off and the redhead stood for a moment, staring at the name plate. It said Halloway. A slight frown creased her brow, but Quin rose her fist and knocked anyway. The school gig was pretty cool, she wasn't going to let a slab of plastic ruin the mood. She'd brought lunch, for them both, and this was going to be a good day.

Nate had gotten lost in his activity, leaving the entire top of his forearms completely decorated with twists and swirls of color, as though his skin had been dyed by the shadows he manipulated.

It took a quick glance up toward the door for Nate to spot his girlfriend standing there, ready for their planned lunch. "Quin!" Excited as a teenager greeting his crush, he pushed his chair away from the desk and took long strides to the entrance.

He went in for a hug, wanting things to feel normal again, before he remembered the paint on his arms that had yet to dry. He let his upper-arms rest on her shoulders and his marked forearms dangled loosely behind her. "Nice to see you, sug."

Nate pulled away, hoping Quin did not react negatively to the affection; if they were going to try again, he wanted to go all in. Looking down at his arms, he blushed. "I swear that's business-related."

Smiles were infectious, as was enthusiasm, and Quin had to smile as Stephen made his way across the room. He hugged her, and the redhead returned the gesture, deli sandwiches dangling from the bag in her hand.

Shaking her head at the apology, Quin carefully untangled herself from Stephen's arms and studied the artwork up and down his arms. "It's fine." she said, moving further into the room and setting the bag down on the desk, "What kind of project are you working on?"

As she spoke, Quin started removing sandwiches from the bag, she'd gotten the order before she left and she had to admit, the food smelled delicious. The chips from the deli looked yummy too. This really had been a good idea.

"Do you need to wash up first, or can you eat like that? The food looked awesome while they were making it."

It was nice to feel his hug reciprocated; it was much better than feeling her shy away from it or cringe when he touched her. He pulled away to sort out his paperwork into folders so they could get right down to eating.

Understandably, Quin asked about the paint. "It's just an idea I've been tossing around for a class later in the semester. It was inspired by a student that sought me out in the spring." He had not seen Skydancer much since their original meeting, and he hoped his assistance paid off. "She had an obvious skin mutation, so I helped her find a good way to cover up a bit so she wouldn't feel so self-conscious in public." He was, after all, the expert on blending in and hiding.

With his papers out of the way, he was asked another obvious paint-related question. He held up his naturally-tinted hands. "I'll be fine. I kept the painting to my arms. Heck, if you had left me alone much longer, I might have started on facepainting, though."

Nate took a place next to Quin at the desk, taking in the tasty scent of the sandwiches. "Mmm, what did you pick up? It smells delicious." Nate skipped breakfast; roasting hyena would smell delicious.

Quin nodded her head as Stephen explained about the idea he was working on. It sounded neat, really neat, in fact. "That sounds like fun, none of my art classes ever involved fun things like painting on ourselves."

It really was a cool idea, and he'd kept it to an area where he could eat. That meant no leaving, and more time to visit while they ate. Fine by Quin. As to face painting...she grinned.

"My mom and dad loved going to festivals when I was little, I always had my face painted. My favorites were the people who would paint masquerade masks on your face. Purple and silver..." the redhead reminisced. "Those are good memories."

The food smelled delicious, he even said so and she shrugged, "This little place that some of the guys at the station like to go to sometimes." Sometimes? The place would probably have gone out of business by now if it hadn't been for the NYPD. The sandwiches were good, pretty inexpensive, and the service was fast.

"And I guessed on what you'd want...so I hope you like it."

Nate took the sandwich off the table and inspected its contents; it was an Italian grinder loaded with meats and tomatoes. The combination was enough for his hungry mind to trigger half of the joyful responses it had at its disposal. "Oh, this'll be perfect. The boys at the station have good taste."

Nate took a bite of the sandwich, content with the deli meat collection. With his brain now less concerned with impending starvation, Nate returned to Quin's comment about festivals and face painting. The paints were still out on a nearby desk... and purple and silver were definitely still in stock. "You know, I would be interested to see what those pretty eyes would look like framed in purple and silver," he teased, curious to how Quin might respond.

Well, at least she'd managed to pick the right sandwich. It was a step in the right direction, and the redhead was inordinately pleased with herself for being so accomplished. Stephen pointed out that he still had paints out on the table, and Quin looked at her watch.

"I've got another hour before I have to be back at the station. As long as you can promise it'll all come off before I have to go back, we could check it out." she said as she dug into her own sandwich. It was a Ruben, light on the sauerkraut and heavy on the thousand island. Mmm yeah, the guys at the station had excellent taste.

While they ate, they could talk. "Summer is probably winding down, huh? When do classes officially start?" They hadn't seen as much of each other lately, Quin wasn't up on dates and times and things like that. It would be good to know.

It was intriguing for Nate that Quin was game for a quick post-lunch face-paint experiment. The idea brought him back to their first date, splattered with paint in his apartment. It was just nice to have a reason to go back to happy memories from their relationship again.

Nate took another large bite from his sandwich before reaching for a chip to compliment the meal. "Time certainly does feel like it's winding down. It's something like two weeks left?" The days just seemed to blur together near the end of the summer.

Come to think about it, his days were melding together so completely because he was keeping himself so monotonously busy. "You know, I was so busy with tutoring and commission painting all summer, I feel like I didn't really take advantage of the whole 'having summers off' part of this job." Nate obviously decided to leave off the large periods of moping and drinking he endured for his single period in the summer. No need to bring down the mood.

He took a crunchy bite of chip before continuing, "I need to learn from normal teachers and get away from students for a while. Bahamas, maybe?" he joked. It was a shame cops had such uncompromising schedules, especially for younger officers. The idea of Quin and a tropical island was very appealing in Nate's mind.

Quin had to feel just a little sorry for Stephen, but then again most people didn't even understand the concept of only have two weeks of vacation left. Having grown up in a house with two teachers, Quin got it just fine, but was still smiling and shaking her head.

It didn't sound like he'd taken much advantage of the summer, and Quin suddenly felt a little guilty. Somehow she figured it was her fault. Her resolve returned a moment later though, and she shrugged, "You'll get used to it. Most teachers do some kind of work during the summer, at least my parents did." If 'work' included travelling around to hippie communes and speaking at festivals.

It was nice though, she felt like she was finally starting to relax. Some of the easy banter she and Stephen had always shared was worming its way back into the conversation.
And a Bahama's trip? Quin snorted, "Dreamers can always dream a little dream." she said.

"But let's start with purple butterfly masks. It's easier to get to a fantasy world and back during a lunch hour."

Considering his exceptional memory, it was amazing to Nate how easily it slipped his mind that he shared his new profession with Quin’s parents. ”It keeps me busy at least. You know what they say about idle hands.” They are more likely to steal famous artwork, he thought, keeping the punchline to himself.

Nate was already halfway through his sub, but he put it aside; it was not going to get “colder” than its cold-cut composition, and he could eat when Quin returned to the precinct. ”Alright then—one lovely masquerader coming up.”

Taking the paints from the nearby table, Nate positioned himself in front of Quin so he could most effectively make her a canvas. (A very pretty canvas, but for all intents and purposes, still a canvas.) ”Okay, you have to do the best you can to remain perfectly still, and I’ll do the best I can not to accidentally tickle you or anything.” It would have been a shame if her mask had a jutting appendage because of a careless twitch from either side.

Nate took his first brush and coated it in purple. Carefully, he started creating the basic outline for Quin’s mask. As the shape began forming, a chuckle escaped the artist, remembering one of the less troublesome highlights from his past. ”Did you ever go to Mardi Gras, by any chance? Maybe during a wild college girl phase?” Nate did remember them talking about Quin’s college years once before, so it was certainly possible she had made the trip.

So then they were doing the face painting thing. It was kind of nice, being silly like this. Doing things that people would do early on in a relationship. Getting her face painted on a work day was not something the on-duty cop had planned, but sometimes things just worked out a certain way for a certain reason.

The paint was cool on her skin, and Quin had to resist the urge to wrinkle her nose as the brush moved across her face and cheeks. It was an interesting feeling, being painted, and as she’d said before, it carried good memories.

Stephen was close, and Quin couldn’t help but wander if it was ever going to stop feeling strange. He seemed the same, acted the same…

Maybe with time.

He spoke, and Quin shook her head, ”My friends and I always did Mexico and Florida in college. Never hit up New Orleans. We’d heard it was dirty.” she admitted with a grin.

Quin's answer was easy to anticipate; he pegged college Quin as a beach girl more than the party girl-type Mardi Gras usually attracted. "Bah, most of that is hype."

Nate was careful around Quin's nose, and she was doing a good job remaining still. "I went once, but I was busy, so I didn't take part in much of the festivities." Nate chose not to go into detail with what it was that he was busy with; Quin would have a vague idea, which was bad enough without him elaborating. "Did get some great jambalaya though. And there may have been one morning where I woke up with beads around my neck." He paused his painting for a moment. "I never asked about the details."

Nate resumed his painting, taking a slightly more vulnerable tone. "It was something I had wanted to see since I was young. I could kinda remember mom mentioning meeting my father there." His memories from when his mom was alive were not fresh, but that was the only real piece of information he could recall her ever mentioning his father, since their time together was brief. It was not until Nate was older that he could piece together the realization that he was the product of a one-night stand.

"I thought about how ironic it would have been if I had met a masked Mardi Gras girl myself while I was there, but no such luck," he joked, returning to a less serious voice. "That's what I get for working through a festival."

Nate added some final silver touches and placed the brush down. He touched Quin's cheek just below the drying paint, smiling. "All the best girls were probably in Mexico or Florida anyway."

Quin had seen things on the cooking channels about New Orleans and the food. Honestly, it was the only allure that the place held for her. It was all too noir for her. The jazz and the voodoo, the vampires and the creepy swamps. Not her kind of scene. Stephen seemed to like it though, and that was good.

”I don’t even want to know.”

And she honestly didn’t.

The next story was a nicer one, about his mother meeting his father. Quin didn’t know much story there, to be honest, just what he’d told her before. The thought furrowed the redhead’s brow. Had all of that been true? He’d seemed so vulnerable at the time, she decided that it must have been true.

He touched her cheek and Quin had to smile at the compliment she was paid. Stephen really did know how to say the right thing sometimes.

”So. How do I look?”

It was undoubtedly for the best that Quin chose to overlook the details of Nate's trip into Mardi Gras, since there was virtually no way not to include the word "crime" in the story, and that was not limited to the con-portion of his trip.

Looking into Quin's brown eyes, it was hard for Nate to even realize that there was paint framing them, even if he was the one to set it there. He leaned in, softly replying, "Like the loveliest girl at the festival." Nate came in closer until his lips met hers for a nice, long kiss. It was the type of kiss he was not sure they had shared since the fallout, and it was all Nate wanted.

The kiss was nowhere near as long as Nate was hoping for; ten seconds in, shouting could be heard from the halls, and it was clearly not just the mischievous yelling of students with too much energy. The screams from the hall were desperate cries for help coming from students in danger.

Nate pulled away, the concerned eyes of a teacher in full activity, for the first time in a while regretting his career choice. "I'm sorry," he quickly said, knowing there was no reason to be sorry; Quin was a cop, so there was no way she was not following him out that door.

In the hallway, three boys were running in their direction, two of the boys being beaten up and scratched by plastic action figured. A more pressing concern might also have been the model airplanes soaring through the air in pursuit.

Nate did not have to tell Quin anything; she controlled man-made materials, and action figures were roughly zero percent natural. The planes were his. His shadow wall rose from his feet, creating a shield for the boys to run behind. From the shield, spears of shadow erupted, targeting the planes. Some he would make contact and shatter, while others would divebomb against his shield or missing entirely and colliding with the walls or the ground.