He looked at her! And not even at her feet! Granted, the look seemed a bit analytical, and he pretty quickly returned it to the sunglasses, but still. He looked up! And even said his name! What an accomplishment!

In related news, Allison might have a bit of an inclination to sarcasm.

Of course, once he gave his name he went back to staring at the sunglasses (or the floor--really the only difference was that the sunglasses were in the way), which left Allison to fill in the silence. That was something she was either excellent or terrible at doing, depending on who you asked; she could always think of a comment, but they were rarely what would, typically be considered normal, and often not what would be considered polite. Allison liked to push the boundaries of quirky, and a while ago had pushed them enough that she couldn't fully remember where they were. She didn't particularly mind.

For the moment, though... well, basic questions, which probably weren't considered polite, but which ought to be, at least in Allison's mind. "So what can you do?" And, since she was still wondering, "when did your mutation wake up?"

Distinctly less aware of - or perhaps somewhat more immune to - the growing awkwardness and silence, Aiden considered the sunglasses in his hands for another moment before sliding them onto his face.

He only made it far enough that they didn't quite stay on when the girl - Allison - went and dropped a particularly nasty question on him. Then another. He immediately crouched under the pretence of retrieving the glasses. He really, really wanted to get out of there. The only problem was that he distinctly remembered just what happened to be lurking around on the other side of that door that would save him from Allison. He really, really, really didn't want to deal with that.

Two absolutely horrible options. He had given one two reallies and the other three. Logic dictated that he take the lesser of two evils. He slowly returned to his feet, sliding the sunglasses on properly and hoping they were reflective or dark enough to disguise his eye. They kind of fit, at least. Now, how was he supposed to answer her? He really didn't like such blunt questions. They were downright cruel. And to have two of them at once? Wait - two questions meant he had a choice as to what to answer first. There was a chance he could get by with only answering one of them. Which was worse? The second certainly had a simpler answer, although he would have to be careful not to let the topic broaden too much. He could do that, couldn't he? "Only about a week ago," he forced himself to say, though it was awkward and ponderous.

Aaaand he dropped the sunglasses. And then actually crouched down to hide. The sunglasses were not a convincing excuse.

So much for progress.

Also, had this kid been abused or something? Allison was not scary. And neither were questions. Offensive, maybe, but that ought to result in anger, not cringing. Granted, overwhelming instant shame wasn't necessarily from abuse (assuming you didn't call an entire culture aligned to make certain, randomly chose not people loathe themselves abuse, which Allison knew was the case but wasn't sure she agreed with). But it was still pretty screwed up. She supposed the sunglasses need was more understandable....

(And she wondered how she'd escaped. Sure her parents weren't the worst, but they weren't that good either. Good luck, then, probably, to have fought that war before, and had the mind to broaden its lessons. But Allison wasn't the point.)

Whatever the reason, acting like mutations were something that deserved shame wouldn't help. Allison wasn't sure how to acknowledge his reaction without either criticizing him or validating it, though, so she continued as if it hadn't happened. "Oh, that makes sense. Do you know what you can do yet?"

Right. Better than getting lost in those winding hallways filled with undoubtedly lethal mutants. Questions were unpleasant, but not lethal. Probably. Hopefully.

Darn it. She wasn't going to drop the other question. Now what? Tell her that he could heal himself - evidently only while unconscious - and nothing else? Really? That'd probably get him laughed out of the place. It would actually kind of almost be nice to be able to say he was some powerful, useful freak. At least then he'd be, well, useful. Instead of not. And lying would only work until she asked him to demonstrate, which she undoubtedly would if he said he was something cool and interesting. Like that would turn out well.

So instead he shrugged. Better boring than a bald-faced liar. "I dunno. I guess I kind of heal or something." He self-consciously rubbed the part of the scar running from his eye onto his ear before catching himself and shoving his hands in his pockets. They were just going to draw more attention to his scars. He didn't want that.

That... made more sense. Alli could not think of a pleasant way to discover a healing mutation. Some only unpleasant and some horrific, sure, but still; nothing pleasant. And recent, apparently; that made his behavior make a lot more sense.

Well, ignoring the awkwardness seemed to be working so far, so.... "Cool! I wish I could heal. I don't think... I don't know anyone who can." To be fair, Allison's first pick would be a mutation that let her never need to heal, but if that wasn't an option, healing would probably be her second pick. Granted, in reality neither were possible, but still; she could dream. "Well, except for one or two of the hospital workers, but I don't really know them." She'd met them, sure, but knowing them? Not really. She didn't even remember names.

And, how to keep the conversation going, since the kid seemed uninclined to do so himself. "Is that why you're immune to cold, or is that just kind of...." She gestured with her free hand. "There? I know I'm never warm, and that has absolutely nothing to do with ink."

Ai blinked.

Then he blinked again.

She... thought that something that useless was cool? Seriously? How did that even work? And hearing that the only healing-type mutants she knew of worked in hospitals really wasn't all that pleasant. He didn't want to end up working in a hospital. He didn't like people anywhere near enough. Although... since, as far as he could tell, he couldn't heal other people, maybe he'd be safe from that. He really wasn't a hospital kind of person, though he wasn't sure if it was especially or despite his most recent involvement with them.

When she continued, Aiden glanced briefly towards the door before shrugging. Still better than dealing with that. "I dunno," he said neutrally. "I didn't notice anything like that up until now. I did feel cold before, though." He'd been cold watching his brother's game, even if it hadn't started snowing yet by then. His brother's last game.

He wrenched himself off that train of thought with all the force of will he could gather and set his attention on Allison. Even the people outside were a better option than that. "Being cold all the time has more to do with circulation, I think," he offered, and then stopped short. Wait, ink? What did ink have to do with anything. "What do you mean, ink?" he asked, his confusion writ clear across his face even with the sunglasses.

So probably his mutation, then. That, frankly, was too obvious to (re)state considering the context, so Allison refrained. And then found herself blinking at the kid. Seriously, had he hit his head? It was like he was permanently a few steps behind reality. Granted Allison knew she could have that effect on people when she skipped explaining her thought processes... and sometimes because she did explain them... but she was sure she hadn't said anything too weird in this conversation. Awkward, yes, impolite, possibly, but not weird.

How to answer his question though... Allison didn't want to undo any of the tattoos she had in, so she set the remaining sunglasses on the bed, turned, grabbed a bottle off her desk, unscrewed the top, pulled the ink out, and set the bottle back on the desk. She closed her hands around the ink, then turned to the kid (named Aiden), and reopened them, to show off dark emerald ink strung in a web of gleaming lines between and around her fingers, continuing to split and curl into further intricacy as long as she held it. "Ink. I control ink."

Really, Aiden-kid. You walk into what you're told is a home for mutants only, and fail to assume the person leading you to her room has a mutation? This is reasoning 101.

Aiden's brow furrowed slightly as Allison moved, a touch of curiosity getting the better of him (there was indeed a little bit of common sense trying to suggest that he just open than door and take his chances, but curiosity and mild terror at going back out into that ground it into the dirt as quickly as it could grow).

Oh.

OH.

Yeah, he really should have seen that coming. Distraction, 1, observation, 0. Cue audience laughter at character idiocy. Right.

But seriously, controlling ink? And he thought that healing was useless. Well, he supposed she wouldn't have to worry about a pen exploding and getting ink everywhere, or getting air bubbles in a pen and having to scribble and tear paper until the ink flowed past it. That would be kind of welcome.

He really should give his observation score a boost. "Is that why...?" Trailing off, he gestured to Allison's general colourfulness, or at least tried to. He could notice things! He was just kind of distracted lately. Distraction was a fair enough state to be in, all things considered, wasn't it? And being distracted kind of negated anything his observational skills really picket up on, so.... All right, fine, he was totally trying to justify not putting the giant colourful twos together.

At least the kid (who seemed to have been permanently designated that in her mind, name or not) realized he'd been oblivious. That was a step. Not nearly far enough, but at least in the right direction. Progress!

"Yeah." Allison extracted a hand from the link lines (or pulled it through without thinking, but they were thin and barely hurt anymore, and fingers didn't contain sensitive life sustaining nerves that couldn't be messed with, so... it was deliberate, Allison would swear) to tap the side of her face. "I made all of them. I'm not sure I'd have any tattoos if I couldn't make them, really; my way's a lot less painful. No bleeding, for one. And I can get rid of them, that's always useful...." Allison trailed off. She liked talking about her mutation (as long as she wasn't talking to an enemy, anyway), but not everyone liked hearing, and anyway that wasn't the point. The point was....

Oh. Right. "Do the sunglasses fit?" That was the point.

Aiden felt a brief shiver of unease, seeing the ink hang in the air while Allison pulled her hand through it. So she made her own tattoos? Honestly, he really wasn't a fan of them, but if she could change or remove them as easily as she made the ink defy gravity, maybe they weren't quite as bad.

Change of subject! Perfect. Sunglasses were a much safer and more pleasant topic of conversation and thought. He nodded and reached up to shift one arm against his ear a little; the arms were a bit shorter than he was used too, but they didn't feel like they were going to fall off or cut his head in half. The only issue left was whether or not they actually did the job. So.... he looked back in Allison's generalish direction. "Er... do they work?" he asked hesitantly. If they didn't make his right eye unnoticeable, they really didn't work. They seemed pretty dark, as far as he could tell by just wearing them, but you could never quite tell from the inside.

Yes, Allison was going to assume, they fit. Or were close enough to fitting that he could keep them on and pretend they did. She eyed him for a moment, then collapsed the ink back between her hands and answered as she turned to the desk, picked the bottle back up and slipped the ink back in. "If by 'work' you mean 'hide my eyes,' yes, they do that. If you mean 'help me see better,' I wouldn't know, but I assume you don't."

Sunglasses acquired, though, that probably meant he was ready to leave. Allison shrugged, and gave him a smile halfway between polite and reassuring. "So, you remember the way out, or I can show you?" Not that the way out was complicated, but if he'd managed to miss the fact that she was a mutant.... She grinned. "Unless you want a tattoo or a tour, of course, but you seem a bit shy for that."

Ai glanced away. It wasn't both eyes he needed to hide, just the one. His left eye was perfectly normal, and walking around in public with it uncovered was just fine and dandy. And as for the glasses helping him see better... well, no, they didn't. Wearing sunglasses no matter the weather (or whether or not he was even outdoors) tended to make it rather more difficult to see. However, a little dimness was a fair enough trade for peace and quiet.

Wait, the way out? Out through that hallway? Past all the mutants? (Yes, he was in the same room as one, but she clearly had at least a couple of redeeming qualities, so she was obviously better and safer than all those unknowns. that, and moving ink couldn't be dangerous unless you were allergic to ink or something, right?) Aiden paled and swallowed. Anyway, just surviving past that hallway wouldn't be enough - he had to get out of this neighbourhood too, and even if he hadn't seen any mutants wandering around out there, he was sure they were there, and just look at the state of the buildings and everything?

On the other hand, if he procrastinated and stuck around here a little while longer, was he actually going to have to get a tattoo or a tour? He wasn't sure which was worse, but the tattoo seemed infinitely safer. Going with safer was probably the better bet. Wait, was he seriously actually considering letting this girl he had just met give him a tattoo? Seriously? What was he, crazy? No, no, no. He had to get back to the other mutant-filled place, where he at least had his computer and could drown the world out for a while. His fingertips twitched slightly, torn with indecision. Leaving was best, but he had to go past them and find his way through the area to somewhere normal that he could get back from. Delaying would put off dealing with the people outside, but would she seriously give him a tattoo?

Okay, Allison officially gave up. She had no clue what was going on in this kid's head. Quite a lot of fascinating stuff, apparently; he seemed absolutely unaware of much of anything outside of it. Allison waited. And waited. And stepped across the carped, leaned a bit closer, and waved her hand in front of the kid's face. "Hello."

The reaction was... interesting. Allison blinked at the kid. "...Have you hit your head recently?"

Risk a tattoo or a tour, or risk his life. Which was worse?

Whatthetherewasahandinhisface

Perhaps thanks to the fact that such a phenomenon had already occurred that day - and fairly recently - Aiden only wobbled and had to take a quick step backwards, but didn't actually fall down. That counted as an improvement right?

Regaining his balance - and standing slightly farther away from Allison, though probably not at a safe distance, given her recent history - Ai shot a glare at her. "What was that for?" he said sharply. Sure, he might not be agonizing over which of his near-future options was worse, but was that really necessary? What was her problem?

And then to ask if he had hit his head? What did she thi- oh, wait. How was she supposed to know he'd been in a car accident? Although she probably could have clued in that the entire world was currently lying in tiny little irreparable pieces, and wasn't that hard enough on a person that anything else was just burnt icing on the cake of hell? Well, if she didn't know, maybe knowing would get her head on straight. "As it happens, something did hit my head," he said, tone dark enough that it might almost be termed a growl by some. "It left a pretty big scar too. Maybe you noticed?"

"You spaced out." The statement had that distinct tone of obviously to it. "Getting a person's attention when they space out is what most people do." As Allison knew, from the times she spaced out on someone. Or pretended to.

She continued blinking when the kid answered. The tone was one she understood, the body language could be misleading but made sense in the context of how he'd been acting, but the words... did not. She considered what she could see of his face for a moment before answering. "...No, not that I've noticed."