It was fairly evident Masque had never heard of the mansion. Not that that was so much of a surprise, Ryden was still fairly unfamiliar with it himself. He read the words come back, a different shade of color which seemed to signal some emotional change in his companion. He wasn't sure what but he knew something had changed a little.

'I think you just go and ask about staying there. My friend didn't mention any type of application process or anything, but she said was fairly certain they wouldn't have a problem with someone being around who broke things with their voice. They must be somewhat lenient if they could handle that sort of damage.' He responded. It took a bit longer to write out the answer this time. He caught the last doubtful statement and nodded thoughtfully.

'It could be worth checking out though. I still need to visit sometime, just to get a better idea of what the place is like.' He added. The paper he was writing on was getting fairly full, and he would need to turn the page soon. Conversations seemed much longer when you had to correspond via text.

A place you could simply show up and walk through the gates?  The prospect seemed a little too good to be true; more than a little too good to be true if he were honest with himself. Still, could he afford not to at least check it out?  Its not like he really had a lot to lose in doing so.  What kind of life was the life he was living anyway?

'Thank you for telling me about this place'.  The words on Masque's arm remained purple, tentative hope in his heart.  Maybe hope wasn't the best emotion to have.  Maybe hope was doomed to die the moment he got to this mysterious Mansion.  But hope was more resilient than that and he wasn't about to let it be dashed without even an attempt at discovering the truth.

'I will check it out soon,' Masque answered, after patiently waiting for Ryden to finish his note.  If only more people spoke sign language it might be a useful skill to pick up to make such conversations quicker.  Then again, how often did this sort of situation really come up?  'Thank you for telling me'.  For the first time, his smile actually reached his eyes.

The purple tone remained in Masque's arm, and Ryden was wondering if that was a small bit of apprehension. He could understand that. He was a little cautious about the idea himself. But he could still see the appreciation in Masque's expression. Maybe he needed the optimistic prospect more than he could weigh in the doubts.

'I hope it is a decent place.' He added somewhat quietly. Then he glanced around, uncertain of what to say. The trashcan was somewhat forgotten finally as he wrote next.

'You said you do art. Do you have anything I could see?' He asked suddenly. Sure, they were still strangers, but it wasn't often Ryden met another mutant that shared his lack of words. Or different use of words....whatever you'd consider it. He felt like there was a connection regardless of how little they knew of each other.

'You said you do art. Do you have anything I could see?'

Masque grinned and nodded enthusiastically.  Now that was a topic that didn't cause the slightest discomfort.  Even if it wasn't exactly the most practical way to make a living it was something that he took a great deal of pride on.  Even if all other aspects of his life were consistently disappointing, at least he could say he had a gift that few others possessed.  Sometimes it was the one thing that helped keep him sane and grounded.

Taking off his backpack, Masque kneeled upon the ground and opened it.  Carefully, he pulled out a sketchbook about half full of his work.  A few of the works were finished or nearly so, but most were half completed sketches.  The pictures mostly consisted of humans, animals and hybrids sometimes with a background and sometimes not and the style was something clearly anime inspired, but original enough to be his own style.

'I hope you like it,' Masque sent the words across his skin.  He looked back towards the nearby broken garbage can, distracted by the mutterings of a pair of young men walking past it who didn't appear to appreciate the damage.

Ryden waited politely while Masque collected his art samples, then carefully took the sketchbook given to him. While he couldn't draw, Ryden had an appreciation for artwork. There was something personal to it, like writing, and he wondered if showing someone your sketchbook had the same revealing sensation. Writing was personal, like giving a little piece of yourself to someone else. As sentimental as that sounded, he could only imagine what it was like with a picture.

Accepting the book he flipped through it, and paused to glance at the words on Masque's arms. He smiled back, and started to answer when he noted the young meant taking assessment of the trashcan. He watched them a bit more closely why shifting the sketchbook and his own notebook in his hands. Hands suddenly full, he had no way of communicating in silence.

"Hey! Did one of you do this?" The men asked, facing Ryden and Masque. Ryden quietly held up a hand and gave an apologetic expression. "Apologies." He remarked, and the trashcan vibrated. Their brows furrowed and Ryden hoped they'd just let it go and move away. He felt even more nervous while still holding Masque's sketchbook.

Masque had always enjoyed showing off his art.  Through art he was able to express some of the many things he couldn't express in words.  Images imprinted on paper were windows to the soul, hints of what lay within the mind of their creator.  There were some images, of course, that were too private to share with just anyone, but those he kept close to himself.  As for the others, well, art was meant to be shared with the world.

Masque watched carefully the expression of Ryden as he flipped through his sketchbook before being interrupted by the pair he had spotted earlier.  As their inquiry was answered quietly he spotted the trash can vibrate and knew they had spotted it too.  Their expressions turned dark and darker still noticing Masque's less than human coloration.

"This is why mutants should be banned from the park.  Segregation, that's what I say!"  The words were angry and the other man nodded his agreement.

"It's a disgrace allowing them to run around free like this," the other answered loudly.  Masque shook his head, a sinking feeling in his chest as he realized that such a confrontation couldn't help but attract attention to them.

The yelling was somewhat unnecessary, at least from Ryden's point of view. It was a trashcan. It wasn't something that couldn't be replaced with just a little effort. His brow furrowed though, and he glared at the figures, tucking the sketchbook against his side where it was safe. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to it or Masque in this confrontation.

"Your behavior is what is a disgrace." A forced pause before the loudly shaking trashcan broke again. "I intend to take care of it. However, if you insist on making an issue...I'll be forced to act." He said coldly. The figures laughed, crossing their arms and staring at him with amusement.

"Yeah, what're you two gonna do?" They challenged.

"Well, they say actions speak louder than words..." He let his voice hone in on the metal phone in one of the speakers pants. "However, I find words work just fine." CRACK!!!! The exploding phone was followed by a very pained scream from the man who was carrying it, as shards of metal dug into his leg. The two figures scrambled backwards, a few more pedestrians suspiciously glancing over, but now keeping their distance. Only then did he risk handing the notebook back to Masque.

"I apologize. Your artwork is quite good." He remarked, and a small crack appeared on the already busted trashcan.

Masque didn't like confrontation.  It wasn't that he couldn't handle it, but there were bad memories associated with it.  He could recall his parents yelling at him anytime he had the gall to try and leave the house and be seen publicly or any time he tried to make the most basic contact with the outside world.  When people yelled, it reminded him far too much of those unhappy times.  Physically, he knew how to defend himself and he was willing to bloody people if it came down to necessity, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"Your behavior is what is a disgrace.  I intend to take care of it. However, if you insist on making an issue...I'll be forced to act."

Words Masque was unable to speak himself and words that were ever so true.  He nodded his agreement, steeling his expression just as the two troublemakers exchanged the briefest of unsure looks.  Fear wasn't an emotion that was going to help things into a peaceful direction and it wasn't an expression he was willing to show.

"Yeah, what're you two gonna do?"

The challenge made by the two thugs was quickly answered with a few loud words from Rydan and a a cracking of the phone one of the two that was being carried.  While Masque's own power wasn't nearly so potentially dangerous or flashy, he took the opportunity to create his own display.  In an instant his appearance took on a monstrous facade.  The skin around his eyes turned blood red, a toothy painted fanged mouth appeared over his regular mouth.  The rest of his skin became black and green and scaled and if all the changes were nothing more than painted illusion, he knew it was a pretty good illusion at least at first glance.

By now the entire scene was gathering yet more attention and the mutterings of those around them were becoming more heated and more strained.  The two figured scrambled backwards and so far the crowds remained at a distance, but for how long?  He accepted his notebook back, posing the question on his skin, 'Perhaps it is time for us to leave?'

Masque's skin could apparently play it's own tricks. It may not do much physically, but at least it was intimidating enough. The crowd, however, that was gathering seemed none too impressed by the actions. Ryden nodded slowly, catching the words on the skin.

"Yeah, I think now would be a time to bow out before it gets worse..." He whispered. His voice vibrated the trashcan ever so slightly as he shifted towards the edge of the crowd. A few people seemed intent on blocking his path. "We can make this easy..." Someone's necklace gave a warning vibration. The figure quickly side stepped and Ryden took the opportunity to start for the road. Going towards more metal could be bad, but in this situation, he'd rather at least have more amunition.

Yup, leaving was looking like a better and better idea by the moment.  The tension in the crowd was palpable and all of that tension was directed at the two mutants. Why did there have to be such little tolerance and understanding when it came to mutants?  If they had hurt someone then sure, maybe he could understand, but the most that had happened was a little minor property damage and didn't irresponsible teenagers do that sort of thing all the time?  When was the last time a mob had turned on them for such pranks?  Not anytime that Masque could recall.

With hackles raised and more than a little trepidation, Masque took a step in order to follow Rydan to the road.  The milling crowd looked ready to pounce and someone actually took a step towards them, pointing and muttering something he didn't quite hear.  Although he didn't see any obvious weapons, that didn't mean a whole lot.  If they weren't very careful, things could go very wrong for the both of them.

Ryden stayed calm, but inwardly he was worried. He wasn't a fighter, and while he didn't want to concern his fellow mutant, they were in a sticky situation. Irritating humans, especially after the riots, was a dangerous adventure. Ryden kept his head down most of the time, but he was learning sometimes that just wasn't enough.

He should have kept his mouth shut.... literally. Now he just had to hold his ground and hoped it ended well.

When they reached the sidewalk, part of the crowd had dissipated, but the two men who initially confronted them were speaking with two more thugs. Just what they needed... As the figures approached, Ryden stepped forward, trying to think of something to say. Words were ammo... at least in his world. "Hey, you two think you can just cause trouble in the city because you're mutants do you?" Ryden saw the flash of metal as the man reached back for his gun. He did the first thing he could think of.

He started singing. Loudly. "We're going down, down
In an earlier round...And sugar, we're going down swinging."

BOOM!!!

Ok, so maybe it wasn't the best song for the occasion, but belted out it had the desired effect as the chamber of the gun snapped, the bullet went off and there was more yelling in fear, anger, and pain. Ryden waved Masque to keep walking down the sidewalk and hurried after him, tucking the hood of his jacket up over his head. He pointed across the street at a nearby shop they could duck into, and carefully weaved through traffic to get away from the chaos.

The crowd was parting to allow the pair of them to move past.  On second observation, part of the crowed was parting to allow the pair of them to move past but that didn't count everyone.  Angry words spoken and the two initial troublemakers being joined by two more began to hint that things weren't going to end quite so simply or easily.  Of course they weren't because nothing could possibly be easy in Masque's life.

"Hey, you two think you can just cause trouble in the city because you're mutants do you?"

Masque glared, angry at the insinuation.  What right did they have to say such things?  Just because they were mutants that somehow made them lesser?  At the glint of a gun chills went up and down his body.  Thugs he could deal with, even thugs armed with knives but guns were another matter entirely.  His calcite flesh was far too brittle to do much against bullets.

Fortunately, Rydan seemed to have much more success against firearms as a short song caused the gun to explode in a very audible BOOM!  The explosion allowed for some confusion among their would be assailants and Masque followed his companion's ushering.  Maybe this would resolve itself without actual violence after all.  Maybe.  If not and it proved necessary, he was more than capable of dropping a couple of thugs.

Somewhere in the chaos, Ryden and Masque managed to get away. Across the street, into one of the crowded tourist trap shops, and the noise from outside faded. Ryden breathed a slight sigh of relief and dropped the hood of his jacket, fishing for his notebook. Thankfully he had kept a hold of that even in the chaos.

Well, that was more excitement then I ever want to have again in one day. He wrote in the corner of the paper. The shop owner lounged on his chair, snoozing casually while they 'browsed'. Ryden scanned the room, looking for a back door just in case they'd need one. He wasn't the criminal sort, but he did a few stories on crimes before, and he at least knew how criminals thought. The ones who didn't get caught thought ahead. He should have taken more notes. If he was cursed to destroy things with his voice, at least he needed to know how to get away when it happened.

The relief Masque felt upon entering the little tourist shop was palpable.  The sounds of the angry crowd faded a way and he breathed a sigh of relief, even offering a tentative smile to Rydan.  They had made it, they had managed to exit the situation without things erupting into violence.  It was a close call but somehow they had managed to bluff themselves out of things getting ugly.

'I think I'll be good for a long time to come,' Masque answered and as the black letters faded from his arm so too did his demonic visage also fade back into something that more closely resembled human.  A glance towards the back door showed nothing unusual and no one unwanted attempting to enter, so far at least.  He knew about thugs like that; they weren't likely to do anything if there was the threat of getting caught.  Cowards at heart, it was having people on their side that gave them a false sense of confidence.

'We should stay here for a few minutes.  Just in case.'  

Ryden nodded in agreement with Masque's suggestion, and he glanced out the door for a second before looking around the shop some more. There were plenty of trinkets to browse through, although most of them had some cheesy 'I heart New York' logo on them or a picture of the city's skyline. Not that Ryden didn't like New York, but the things he loved about it weren't necessarily the things that drew tourists here. Sometimes, it was just the smaller things. A coffee shop, a bakery, an Irish Pub. The cultures in the city and how they mingled attracted him here. That wasn't visible in this shop.

Your artwork was quite good, by the way. I didn't get much time to tell you before... His writing trailed off in his notebook. He couldn't draw to save his life, but he could still appreciate good work. Have you tried selling any work in a shop or something? Sometimes you can get better prices that way... Galleries are sort of snobbish but a lot of the coffee shops are pretty cool about letting people sell their stuff. He added in the line below it.