UGH.

Ten minutes passed, and Jameson was pacing. He'd only managed to stay on his bed for the first five, then he'd gotten increasingly nervous as time had passed. This was getting ridiculous.

Jameson knew that if he asked, his parents were just going to say no, so there was only one way that this was going to work. He was going to have to make a run for it. Tucking his phone into his pocket so that he could call when he made it to Ami's, Jameson opened his door and took a deep breath.

Then he sprinted, jaw clenched against the surprised shouts that came from the livingroom as he unbolted the front door and ran from the apartment.

Not wanting to wait for the elevator, the teen took the stairs, using the rails to hop down the flights more quickly than he normally would have been able to move. He made it half way before his phone started ringing. A quick glance told the teen that it was his parents calling and he stuffed the thing back into his pocket. Finally, he made it into the lobby at a full sprint...then out the front doors.

...and into chaos.

It was far enough to Ami's that Jameson got an eyeful of things he'd never thought he would see in New York...his phone ringing angrily in his pocket the whole time. He dodged fires...literal fires...and crowds of people who looked like they were up to no good. The police were out...but it looked like they were losing the fight in some places.

It was terrifying, and it took him FOREVER to make it to Ami's block.

He went around back...it was the only way he'd ever gone into the house, and the front was the restaurant. He got to the door and started beating on it, panting as stood...hoping everything was alright.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Amelia glanced up from what she was doing. "Huh?"

She cracked the door open for Jameson. He looked worked up. Worried. Had he really run all this way? He smelled like sweat. "Um. Hey. You okay, Jameson?" She asked worriedly, biting her lower lip. The door chain hung between frame and door.

Jameson was panting...how long had he been running.

Too damn long. That was how long...and now Ami was standing there looking confused.

"You...didn't...call...back." he panted, eyes narrowing a bit.

"In case you haven't noticed...there is a riot going on. I noticed...because I just ran through the damn thing."

He panted some more for a moment, hand out and on the frame of the door to hold himself up.

"Let me in." it was barely a request.

"I'm going to need to call home. At which point my mother is probably going to strangle me through the phone."

A phrase sprang into the foreground of her mind. 'Not by the hairs of my chinny chin chin.' He certainly was huffing and puffing enough for it. But he was hardly a wolf. Not enough whistling. And his eyes currently weren't bulging out of his face.

"I was kind of busy." She said quietly. The chain scraped against the metal of its holder as she slid it off the door. The door opened to reveal a man in horn-rimmed glasses hogtied and unconscious on the hallway's floor.

The door swung open, and Jameson took a deeper breath than he'd originally intended. It made his lungs burn and he started coughing.

...smooth move Ex-Lax. He'd assumed...and made an ass out of himself. His mom and dad always warned him about that.

"It would appear...that I owe you an apology." The teen said, taking a deep breath and pulling himself upright. He could breathe now. Sort of.

"Want me to come in and help with that?"

"We probably need to drag him out to the police station, actually. I'm not sure if they deliver in this riot weather."

She padded a barefooted step back into the hallway, and gestured for him to be her guest. He could come in. She welcomed the help. Although she'd already handled the guy, he was heavy, and even heavier when unconscious. A handy frying pan lay on the floor next to him. Her socks were around his wrists, and stretched beyond saving. They probably wouldn't hold long, if he woke up.

"I think I have plastic zip wraps somewhere..." she muttered thoughtfully, glancing over her shoulder, back towards the kitchen. "We use those for garbage... so using them on this trash shouldn't be a big deal."

Jameson nodded as Ami backed into the house and invited him in. The guy was hog tied with socks, and the teen had to admit that he was impressed. He'd been too late to help...but it was still super cool that Ami had managed to handle the situation on her own.

Suddenly, he felt foolish. What had possessed him to run across the city in the middle of a riot? Well...that's what friends were for, he supposed.

In he went to help her drag the guy outside.

"I don't know if we're going to be able to carry him all the way to the police station, Ami...things are pretty bad out there."

"True..." She said slowly. Then, she glanced at Jameson. "Thanks for coming, by the way. Kind of insane. What possessed you to do that?"

While she listened for his answer, Amelia reached into her pocket, fumbling out her cellphone. She looked at it tentatively, deciding if they should call.

It was true, with riots happening, police would be stretched thin... but if they were able to get 1 with a squad car, that was optimal. Carrying him to the police station was sort of a ridiculous idea, in hindsight. Her excuse was that she'd just hogtied a home intruder. It was a decent excuse.

"A squad car would be ideal." Jameson said, shrugging off Ami's thanks. He wasn't blushing, by the way, those pink cheeks had come from running halfway across the city. Maybe that was an exaggeration, but if nobody pointed it out, nothing would need to be said.

Looking down at the tied man, the teen frowned. "Ideal...but I think it's a pipe dream right now." His phone was vibrating in his pants pocket again, but Jameson ignored it. Answering to his mother while they were carrying a criminal was probably a bad idea...so was ignoring her...but at this point it was moot.

"We could just leave him tied, toss him outside, and make sure the doors are better secured."

He looked around, "How did he get in, anyway?"

The phone vibration wasn't loud, but it wasn't subtle either. With how quiet it was in the room right then, it was difficult not to notice. Amelia was gracious enough to let it go unmentioned. His mother, she suspected, or his father. She recalled how overprotective they'd been of him when she'd met them. He was probably going to be grounded, the poor bastard. It was awfully big of her not to bring it up. Or rub it in.

Regarding how the guy got in... Amelia looked at Jameson gravely. "He walks through walls." That sort of kicked the suggestion to toss him out under the bus. Kind of made the hog-tying useless, too. "That's why I hit him so hard. The police have collars that'd stop him from absconding. That's it. I'm calling the cops." She'd decided. Out came the cellphone, down tilted the head. Her thumb got ready to dial.

Jameson wrinkled his nose at the mention of the collars. He'd been really young when all of the registration business had gone down, so his mutation hadn't been an issue. They'd all just gone about their happy little upper-class lives, thanking the stars that none of them had an X-gene. There were stories about things that had happened in those camps, and while they weren't openly publicized, word still got around. This guy had broken into Ami's house though, and the cops had to have a way to hold him.

"Fair enough." He said, wondering if Ami had been watching the news at all. He was gracious enough not to mention the fact that she was going on fool's errand, but just kept it to himself.

"What do we do in the meantime...I don't know about riot rules...but I feel like it's still illegal to bash someone's head in. Maybe you should call your fancy lawyer brother while you're at it." [/color]

"It was self-defense. He'll be fine. I only used a little frying pan. I didn't even have my brick purse. He got off lucky." She was totally serious. There was no joking at all in her demeanor. Lips were thin, face straight. Eyes watched him carefully to catch the first sign of him taking it as a joke, if he dared. Oh, he darent. He. Dare. Not.

She got through. "Hello, 911?" She held the phone up to her ear, turning to put Jameson on her side. "I'd like to report an attempted burglary. A mutant walked through my door and tried to stab me with a knife. He's down now, and ready for pick-up." Your take-out order is ready. Her voice blurred into details, like address, name. All that good stuff. When she finished, she folded the phone up and slipped it into her pocket.

Amelia looked to Jameson. "Do you need a ride home?"

"A...ride..." Only Ami could get through to the police in the middle of a riot and actually get ahold of someone. Did she have a direct line? It was kind of ridiculous.

"How did...?" he stammered, then simply stopped and sighed. He didn't want to know, he didn't care to know. Jameson Harris, welcome to the Twilight Zone...population, two. Three if you counted the guy on the floor.

Jameson's phone buzzed again, and suddenly he was irritated. He'd come all this way for snark and vinegar. He answered, "I'll be home soon." He snapped, "Complete with a police escort." He hung up before she could say a word. There would be plenty of that when he got home.

Phone stowed, the teen scowled at Ami, "Only you would have a purse with bricks in it. Yes. I want a ride. Did they say how soon they'd get here?"

Amelia arched an eyebrow at the stammering... then let it stay arched as Jameson snapped at his parents. What if it had been the pizza guy? Or a job offer? Or something else? Then suddenly, he was scowling at her. Jeez.

"Well. That escalated quickly." The girl blinked. "Probably within thirty minutes, or our pizza is free..." Figure of speech. Shame donuts weren't on delivery.

Why was Jameson suddenly so snap-happy? He hadn't been the one who'd had to defend herself.

"Good." The not-so-wonder boy said, still peeved when Ami suggested it would be a half hour or less. Embarrassed wasn't even the word to describe the way he felt about what had just happened.

"The sooner the better." He added, looking down at the looter again, then back at the way he'd came. "I'm going to wait on the back steps. This was a terrible idea."

Why had he ran across the city anyway? Ignoring the little voice in his head that said he was an idiot...Jameson pondered that question and headed for the door.