Whether it was because it was starting to warm up, this place was getting to him, or because having a roommate was horribly awkward, actually sleeping at night was becoming a rare and unusual occurrence. Some nights, it was nice and obvious as to what was causing it. Horrible memories trying to swallow him alive tended to be the main culprit. Other nights, nothing in particular stood out as insomnia-causing. He just couldn't fall asleep.

This was one of those nights, and they were almost as annoying as the other ones. He wasn't in any particular mood, neither positive nor negative, though in one sense that was still an improvement. Persi hadn't done anything particularly annoying in the last few hours. He'd just finished a game again and wasn't feeling the urge to start on a new one. He wasn't in the mood to read. He just couldn't sleep.

And so he prowled out of his occupied room and down the hall to the one television set he knew the location of. It was a sort of semi-public living room - not a normal living room, because it wasn't in a house and it was set up for rather more people than were in just one home, but it was just limited to mansion people, and usually only used by students because what adult in their right mind socialized with teenagers? especially teenagers that might break the whole room by twitching wrong? - and only a few things mattered. It should be empty. It had couches. And it had a TV that should work and so should distract him until he could actually fall asleep.

Reaching the room in flesh as well as thought, Aiden saw that the first requirement was currently fulfilled. The room was dark and empty, and so he kept peering over the tops of his sunglasses as he worked his way into the room and onto what was hopefully the most comfortable couch. He scrounged for a remote before he sat down, and luckily managed to find one fairly easily. Plopping down, he flicked the TV on, and immediately started jabbing at buttons at random to try to find the volume or mute button. When the blaring voices cut out, he let himself fall over in the ringing silence. He should have seen that coming. After a few moments to let his heart slow down from the rush of adrenaline, he warily held down the volume down button until the renewed blast of sound had faded to a near-murmur. Why were TVs always so loud at night?

Evelyn was on 3, going on 4 nights without sleep and determined to make it five. Her 'no sleep until the riots are over' plan had transformed into 'no sleep until you're in your own home', which was becoming more uncertain as time went on. She was exhausted, but with little to do other than mosey around the mansion that mattered little. Her right arm was bandaged, and she had refused to tell anyone why, but it didn't stop her from sketching and working on art. Served her right for throwing a temper tantrum anyway. She may as well sketch, and nothing was going to get in the way of that.

So, papers in hand, a box of pencils and her mind trying to reboot without sleep, she wandered into the main room, the echoes picking up on the television noises before she did. It was remarkably loud, and she flinched as she walked in, watching a teen mess with the volume button. She was always surprised to see people up at this hour, the clock on the wall edging its way around the circle lazily behind her.

"I doubt there will be anything interesting on at this hour." She remarked slowly, and watched the images flicker across the screen. "Cooking show channel 8, painting on channel 2, but the artist is all about commercial reproductions of unrealistic flowers and... Channel 8 might give you some luck..." She pushed her hair from her face, and glanced away.

With the sound finally under complete control and his nerves settling back to normal, Aiden squinted at the poorly-lit remote, trying to figure out what buttons were where and which ones he could use to find something random to watch. At the sound of a voice behind him, though, his abused nerves shot back to high alert and he dropped the remote even as he knocked his sunglasses back into place with the back of one wrist.

Though she was irregularly lit by the TV's light, she appeared normal enough to reassure Aiden a little. Her words confused him a bit, however. "I'm really not here for interesting," he admitted awkwardly. How did she know what was on already? And not just the general shows and their channels, but the content? Oh, she probably just kept track of the schedule. That would make sense.

He did kind of like some cooking shows, though, so he punched in channel eight. The TV flicked to some old lady behind a counter, just pouring some pale and creamy batter into a pan and muttering something about how the oven temperature should be just a little over three hundred and fifty degrees before the cake went in so that the heat lost by opening the door wouldn't lower the internal temperature. Ai shot a guarded glance towards the pale woman. Was she just standing there? There really wasn't enough light to tell with his sunglasses on, and he wasn't taking them off, so he just looked around awkwardly. "Er... there are other couches?" he offered, a little disjointedly. Of course, he'd much rather she left and let him make himself tired enough to fall asleep on his lonesome, but telling her that would be really rude, and she had offered a decent option for the TV, so...

Surprise flickered across the young mutant's face, or what Evelyn could see of it. He was wearing sunglasses indoors, oddly enough, and by his fumbling around it was clear that he didn't exactly see well with them. The echoes analyzed this for a moment as she wandered over towards the other couch and perched on it, putting the finishing touches on her doodles as she did. She seemed satisfied with the picture and nodded at the kids remark.

"If you're not interested in, well, interesting, my guess is you're having trouble sleeping. The cooking channel can either help with that, or make you hungry. Usually makes me hungry." She gave him a glance, and the sunglasses were back in place. The initial fumbling when she walked in had given her a good glance at him though, and with her mutation a glance was enough. She turned back to her papers, but kept talking as she did."It's easier to see the buttons without the polarized lenses... I promise I won't stare at you or something." His body language screamed of his nervous energy. She could have read it even without the echoes.

Her sketch turned into a picture of a broken mirror, she turned the page, and then started on a new one of a pencil. Content with the subject, she let the echoes shape the art into an extremely accurate copy of the rela thing.

Well, it seemed that someone liked stating the obvious, Aiden thought rather acidly. He had been hoping for solitude, after all. "I don't usually get hungry on a full stomach," he said more politely than his thoughts were trying to run. And honestly, cooking shows tended to be more likely to make him want to cook than to eat, but he was not particularly interested in cooking at the time being, and certainly not in his current location.

Largely unaware of what the woman was doing, being able to see only irregular bits of movement in the TV-lit darkness, Ai tried to ignore whatever it was she was doing and focussed as well as he could on the TV. At her continued words, though, he flinched. He'd survive without being able to see the buttons. "It's fine," he said stiffly, trying to kill the line of conversation without actually being rude. Besides, people didn't have to stare. Just knowing it was there was bad enough. Actually seeing it was much worse. Staring went way above and beyond tolerable.

Wait, was that a marbled cheesecake? Aiden totally sucked at making cheesecakes, but how could anyone dislike them? His interest piqued despite his most unfortunate company, he leaned forward slightly. Well yeah, he knew you had to let it cool slowly, but it never seemed to help him anyway. He probably just wasn't patient enough. Then again, if he was making cheesecake, he wanted to eat cheesecake. He didn't want to eat it in six hours either. Preplanned cooking defeated the purpose.

While he spoke without much edge, there were slight inflections to his voice that hinted at irritation. Evelyn suppressed a sigh, and pushed her hair from her face while she doodled. It seemed she got that response a lot, whether she was trying to be rude or not. Compliment people Allison had suggested. She glanced up at the kid, then back down, deciding that probably wouldn't work. He'd probably think she was trying to hit on him or something and then they'd be in a whole new territory of awkward. What other advice has she gotten? Flattering egos... well, she wasn't really sure how to do that much, so she kept sketching and let the kid simmer.

Who needed to be social anyway.

It's fine. He was a talker wasn't he. She could just feel themselves becoming friends. The pleasant exchanges, the building relationships, the--

Molten cheesecake... She found herself looking at the screen for a moment, and tilted her head to the side a bit. "You know, I think someone made some cheesecake earlier. Last I checked it was still there. You could probably have some you know." Back to her drawing. She wasn't particularly hungry, but she knew if she wanted some later she could find it. Maybe the kid would stop looking so irritated if he had some cheesecake though.

Aiden wasn't sure if it was good or bad that he seemed to have succeeded in making the girl stop talking. It probably meant that he had ended up being rude, but she was being quiet. Although she was still there... so had he been rude and then not even really accomplished what he should have? That would be really unfortunate...

Wait, there was cheesecake? Hm. He wasn't hungry, per se, but if there was already cheesecake... no. Consider who it was made by and who was telling him about it, let alone who had access to it. Who knew what was in it or on it by now? It wasn't worth the risk. The brief interest faded from his face far faster than it had emerged, and he shifted what attention had slipped away from the TV back to it. The cheesecake on the screen seemed rather less appealing now.

"That's all right," he said flatly. He had almost forgotten that here, even the people who looked normal weren't, and at least the ones that didn't look normal were easier to remember and often gave some sort of clue as to what they could do. People like her... they were an unknown, and unknowns were worthy of concern all on their own.

It was official. This kid was impossible. It was like nothing in the world could make him happy. He looked momentarily excited about cheesecake, then he thought about it and that faded and he just lost all emotions again. She must be doing something wrong still. She flipped a page in her sketchbook and started drawing a pair of sunglasses absentmindedly. Keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut... It worked for a few more minutes, but then the echoes pushed her jaw open and she was talking again.

"You know, last time I was out here, the kid I walked to never stopped smiling. You seem to have the opposite problem. If you just want me to go I can go you know... I'm not a mind reader." Funny, considering most people seemed to guess she was. In this particular moment it would be useful because her companion was a wall with no window. Lights out, nobody answering the doorbell.

The shot of the oven flipped to the start of a commercial, but unfortunately the fancy new cleaning solution to dirty carpets everywhere wasn't of any use to someone living in a place like this. Not only was he in no way responsible for doing anything more than keeping his general living space tidy - not an issue when he didn't want his new roommate rifling through his stuff and perfect organization was most likely to stymie accidental discoveries and expose interference - but there was probably some dirt-manipulator stashed away somewhere to save on the cleaning bill anyway.

That was right, wasn't it? Get enough freaks together and you'll have a freak for everything. Of course, you'd end up with a lot of useless ones, like him. He couldn't even make himself useful and keep the floor clean without using water or electricity or anything more than a little elbow grease.

He gave the woman a sidelong glance even as she began to speak again. Aiden had seen some inappropriately happy people around here since he had shown up, but any kid who couldn't stop smiling had to have some sort of issue. Maybe his face had gotten stuck that way, or maybe it was really a rictus of terror and she just couldn't tell the difference. She was, after all, by her own words not a mind reader. Aiden was very grateful that she wasn't. Of all the things mutants could do, getting inside his mind was the sort of thing that scared him the most. He'd much rather hang around with mutants who could kill him like a gnat than with ones that could make him think he was a gnat and squish himself.

If she weren't a mind reader, though, he still had to be polite to her. "It's all right," he said after a long few moments. Yes, he would rather she leave. No, he couldn't ask her to leave. No, he couldn't be rude or antisocial enough to drive her away without asking her to go. At least not intentionally. He did have to at least try to be nice. "Er... have you been here long?" he asked, trying to find something reasonably neutral that wouldn't be insulting or offensive.

Evelyn tuned out the television. Well, as much as anyone could when they had voices in their head pointing out the problems in the commercials and with the filming procedures... She was quite certain that some of the stains in the commercial had been pretreated before the before and after shots took place, but that wasn't relevant. If she wanted to invest in a product, she wasn't going to look to television for suggestions. Television, in general, was something she bothered little with. It was a little hard to ignore though.

She flipped to another page in her sketchbook, and started a sketch of a frosted leaf. It was a challenge to capture the details in black and white, but sometimes, those were her favorite pictures to work with. All the subtle curves and flicks of the pencil relaxed her. When he spoke again, she forgot some of her frustration. "No... just since the riots started really." Evelyn looked up and shrugged. "I live in the city near Central Park, but since that was right in the middle of everything it seemed better to avoid the area, and a fr--well, one of the x-men brought me here." Friend seemed like a long shot compared to the push and pull interactions Mirror and her had. Heck, CS was no easier to understand. Most of the mansion was complicated to her.

"What about you? You been here long?" She was still picking up a little frustration from the kid. Maybe she should leave... He obviously didn't want to ask her to, but then he went and asked her a question and it would be rude to leave now in the middle of the conversation. Maybe a little more talking, and if it was awkward, she could leave. She didn't really care for television much anyway.

Right, the riots. That insanity made Aiden very glad that his parents were well away from the city, relieved that this school seemed to be well secured, and somewhat disturbed to be surrounded by the sort of people involved in those riots, no matter their cause or trigger. Actually, Aiden wasn't entirely sure what was the real cause. Did people just go crazy? He had heard vague rumours of something involving police and a girl, but since no one talked to him, he had only ever overheard such things and wasn't sure if he was getting the whole picture - or the honest one.

Considering that the presence of the x-men, whatever their somewhat varying reputation in his hometown, were pretty much the only reason he felt the school was at all secure, he couldn't help but take the idea that they had brought this woman into the school and away from the riots to mean that she was not involved and was probably unable to defend herself effectively. Not that he could think of very many ways to effectively defend oneself against an angry mob, much less an angry super-powered mob. He shifted with a little nervousness. "I.. hope your stuff makes it through okay,"[/color] he offered tentatively.

At the returned question, Ai's gaze dropped to the floor and he turned away from the woman slightly. "Nearly a month," he said quietly. Yeah, a month since Conri died and he got sent here before his brother was even buried. He didn't blame his parents for not getting in touch with him at all - he would undoubtedly do the same thing in their position - but he did hope that the funeral had honoured Conri as he deserved. That wasn't a safe topic to think about though. He was wary enough about sleeping through the night without interruption without tempting the darker thoughts to come prowling.

The conversation shift seemed to momentarily engage him more as he thought about the riots. It didn't seem likely that he really knew the full story behind them, judging by the slight confusion on his face. It was hard to say anyone knew the 'full' story though. It was a long one, trailing further back than just a video of police brutality of a reporter calling for action. The riots were brewing ever since someone used the term 'mutant' as an insult. They simmered in the hearts of this group of people, who longed for equality. It was a civil rights issue, that finally exploded in New York. Most people were fighting to end it all.

Some were just fighting.

"I hope everything makes it through as well... The building itself isn't anything special, but my art supplies are still there and it would be hard getting by without them." She admitted. She erased some more on her picture, trying to add highlights where the frost would be. The echoes noted the sad edge to the kids next response, and she tried to word her reply carefully. "A month sounds long, but in the scheme of things, I think it's still a short amount of time at a school like this. It takes awhile to adjust... At least I've heard that for the other students I've talked to. I hope you at least make some friends here though... I think that'd help adjusting. Give you someone to talk to you wouldn't really mind so much." She gave a slight smile to try to show him she understood if he wasn't big on talking.

She turned back to her picture before she made him uncomfortable. He seemed to be one of those emotionally delicate people you had to avoid upsetting on accident.

Aiden was a little surprised at how many artistic people he kept coming across here. In his normal school and town, no one really ever admitted to drawing or anything at all. Doodling in boredom during class was one thing, but having art supplies wasn't something people talked about.

Logically, he knew that she was right. A month wasn't really all that much. Of course, that was part of the problem, wasn't it? It wasn't anywhere near enough time to soften anything that had happened. He'd really rather not add more time to his aftermath stockpile, but he knew full well that wasn't going to happen. There was no turning back on things like this, no undoing them and pretending they had never happened. He was sticking as close to pretending none of it had happened as he possibly could already, and all it was doing was help him avoid staring the monstrosity in the face.

He also didn't want to spend any more time in this particular place than he already had, but it was better than the alternative. At least no one stared at him and compared things with how they had been here; no one had known him before this, and so they tended to leave things alone better. As for making friends with any of those people.... well. Aiden did his best to keep his expression bland as he struggled to find a polite response. "I'm... not a people person," he said slowly. He blinked slightly at her smile and tried to figure out if she had been trying to make a joke about the sheer awkwardness of the situation. Probably not; he couldn't be that transparent about how uncomfortable talking to some random stranger in the middle of the night in a place like this made him feel, and she didn't appear to be uncomfortable herself.

Swing...and a miss. Evelyn had better conversations with her echoes than this kid, and he seemed to get quieter by the minute. To most people, he probably just would seem quiet and a little tired, but to her echoes he was blaring how uncomfortable he was. She couldn't see his eyes through his glasses, but there were still the motions on his face that gave away his emotions. The shift of movement that signified a blink, the little shifts in the muscles around his mouth revealed consideration. She tried to piece it all together, build a portrait of what he was thinking. The echoes sifted the information, and tried to sort out the answer. She pushed her hair from her face with a sigh.

"I think you're past 'not a people person'. Everything about you screams 'leave me alone', and I'm not sure whether I should listen to it or not. You got a lot of baggage on you, and someway, it's going to work it's way out. Kinda seems like a sucky place to be in when it happens." She frowned, and shifted her sketchbook in her hands. "Then again, I'm not exactly the prime example of being social, and talking to people, so I really can't say much more than that. Just, try to find someone you feel ok hanging out with. You look sort of... miserable. It is kind of a little disheartening." She fidgeted, and glanced at the television.

A counselor she was not. She was just stumbling around in a room of glass trying her best not to break anything. Or in this case, anyone.

Trying to figure people out was too much work. It wasn't something he'd ever been very good at, and he'd always been able to avoid practicing up until now. Conri was good at dealing with people. He could even explain how he worked out what he had worked out, and then Aiden could kind of see it, but no matter how well or frequently he went over it, doing it himself just didn't work.

Made it annoying when english teachers noticed the difference between anything he wrote analyses on in class and that work he was able to do at home. The last one had tried to gently suggest to his parents that they get him tested for ADD. Please. Being thoroughly disinterested in society and not being good at reading people hardly meant he had an attention problem.

And flinch time. What was with this girl? Here he was, minding his own business and recognizing just how bad he was at reading people he was theoretically talking to, and then there she goes and either shoves his lack of social skills or his inability to keep his emotions properly restrained right in his face. Possible both. Probably both. He shot her a wary glance that was only moderately sulky and stressed, and tried to completely disregard all the details in what she said. It had served him pretty well so far in life. Ignoring the details kept him from thinking about them. Couldn't think about what you didn't know, after all.

He did not think he looked miserable, though. That he heard and did not approve of. His expression shifted to something distinctly less distressed and more to something that would have suggested a dry sense of humour at some level under actual normal circumstances. The humour was a little lacking, though. Current circumstances did that. At any rate, there was a whole lot more bland grimace than traces of humour's former presence. "Looking miserable is for people who are miserable," he retorted, "and I'm hardly miserable." Displeased with the world, sure. He ought to have that right, given the circumstances. It didn't make him miserable. He didn't like the term at the best of times. It certainly had no right to be applied to him.