Rain and snow... it wasn't exactly the best weather to be returning in but then Paul had never been one to worry about the weather. Walking down the street with his shoulders hunched ever so slightly and head bent down against the weather, Paul's mind was slowly turning over what things had been like the last time he had been in New York. The weather had been very similar though it had only been snow, no rain. He had been enjoying the company of a nice young woman but as with so many things in his past he had thrown it all away for no real good reason. His thoughts were tinged with just a bit of melancholy as he turned up the collar on his leather jacket to help protect himself from the outer cold though nothing seemed to help warm up his feelings on the inside.

"Two years..."

Pausing on the street Paul lifted his head slightly and look toward the building that had once been his favorite bakery as well as his home. The apartment above had been a cozy little hide away but since his departure the bakery had apparently gone out of business and the building now stood vacant and empty. Gone were the warm ovens and inviting atmosphere leaving behind cold and dark emptiness. A mirthless smile touched his lips as he shook his head and then turned to continue his stroll down the street.

"It's amazing just how fast things change."

There was no warm homecoming waiting for him on the cold street of the city. No special friends he knew would opens their doors in welcome at his arrival... no cozy little corners to relax in. New York was once again a cold and icy city but at the same time it was also a city full of opportunity and Paul knew he would survive. He had started over at least four times in his life, maybe even more, and he knew what needed to be done. Mentally shuffing his thoughts into some sort of order he tried to prioritize what needed. Safety, shelter, physical resources, and emotional resources. Some things would definitely be easier to accomplish than others but it was all possible.

Paul was so distracted in his own thoughts that he almost missed seeing the flashing "Now Open" sign that was down a street. Without even thinking about it he turned and made his way toward the welcoming beacon. Soon he arrived at a cheery doorway that opened into a small coffee shop. Walking in he felt the wave of warmth and cheeriness wash over him. While the little shop didn't have the same delightful aromas that the old bakery had offered it did have some delightful smells that were all its own. The coffee smelled good and strong but best of all, hot!

"I'll take a large black coffee please." Paul ordered from the rather hippy looking server. The late teen or early twenty something gave him a hopeless look like he was ordering one of the silliest things in the world. "Just coffee? Not an espresso or something a little stronger?"

"Coffee. Black." Paul replied firmly before placing his money on the counter next to the register. Turning he walked down to the end where customers were supposed to pick up their orders. While he waited for his oh so simple request to be fulfilled he idly glanced around the little shop. There were a few customers but the shop was nowhere close to full. Apparently the weather was keeping most people close to home.

"Here's the coffee... black." A voice broke through his thoughts. Nodding his thanks Paul took the cup and moved to take a seat in what appeared to be an inviting corner. Taking a long sip of the close to scalding liquid, Paul once again looked around the room. What might have caused these other winter refugees to brave the elements in order to come to this particular coffee shop instead of relaxing safe and warm in their own home? Were their situations at all similar to his own or were they completely different? Taking another sip, Paul felt the ghost of a smile pull at his lips once again. "Welcome home Paul McCoy..." He murmured under his breath, "Welcome home."

ooc: think I accidentally stole your text colour, I'll try to do mine a little different so we don't confuse people!

ic:

Lana hadn't noticed the man standing off to the side with his new coffee. Normally, she would register every single person who walked into the place as a way to practice her observation skills. but right now she was engaged in a conversation with her dead sister, and doing her best to fake having a muffled phone conversation with a living sister. She always despised people who chatted for long periods of time on their cell phones in public. A short call here or there couldn't be avoided. But keep those long conversations away from public ears! It was something she couldn't avoid with Laura though. If she acknowledges her dead sister without any thought, she'd live up to that reputation of schizophrenia very easily. 

"I just don't see how it's any of your business." replied Lana, feeling her cheeks turn a little red at the argument. Laura had interrupted her latest case- which was currently sprawled in the usual fashion all over the table. "I've got my patients to worry about, and now the NYPD are talking about handling that mutant killer case off to the FBI because it's looking bigger and bigger. I need to get that profile done and I'm convinced it's multiple perps and if I don't make my case soon the window for it will close." she explained in hushed tones. "You know how hard it is for me to convince prescient to pony up the money for my services and take them seriously. I've never been wrong, but I need to get through this and you lecturing me about my new roommate isn't helping!"

Lana stared daggers across the table at her sister who was invisible to everyone else. "Well like I said, I think she's nice but you already had 3 night terrors. Either make use of her mutation or get an adapted roommate!" said Laura exasperated.

"That's not your decision. Sometimes we give up those comforts for...." stammered Lana.

"For what...?" probed Laura.

"For friendship." sighed Lana. "You know friendships don't come easily to me. I have a lot of baggage with my mutation and well... you. Noel wasn't scared off by any of that. I need a friend, Laura. You know this." she was growing sadder talking to Laura about this, because she knew deep down Laura's concern was that she wouldn't be able to see or speak with Lana as much if she had a new friend. Laura died as a teenager. Ghosts didn't age. She still had the mentality of a teenager. It didn't annoy Lana. It made her sad.

"You can have a friend and not be there roommate." quipped Laura.

"This discussion is over." said Lana with a wave of her hand. "I need to get this work done, and you know it. Now fly off. Maybe be of some help." she pretended to turn the phone off to signal to her sister she was done acknowledging her. In earlier years Laura would protest and try everything she could to distract her sister, but truthfully, Laura knew the work her sister was doing was important. So she dissipated.

Lana sat stunned for a moment, staring at the documents in front of her. She was convinced it was multiple perps now, even if they had the same M.O. She just had to prove it. And on top of that she needed to make recommendations for the latest intake of patients at the institution. A high profiled murderer would be brought in in another week, and she wasn't prepared in the slightest. A media frenzy would happen and she needed to be on her toes.

Despite it all, Lana was tired and weary. She was usually filled with resolve when it came to her work but the argument with her sister had left her drained. So her eyes scanned the room for people to profile. She'd already profiled a few people. The waitress had barely said two sentences to her but Lana's keen skills had already deduced that she had been a teen mom and now in her twenties had a pre-teen son. She'd been at this coffee shop for a number of years, but was also trying to get an education. Lana would bet money it was in the trades field based on the amount of cuts and scrapes on her hands. You didn't get those working in a coffee shop and they were in various stages of healing.

The man behind her was most certainly cheating on his wife, working a white collar job, and whether he knew it or not was probably due for a heart attack sometime soon. The woman having an awkward conversation with a young man at one of the smaller tables at the back was obviously gay and wondering how to let the guy down who'd been so eager in pursuing her. 

Lana's skills had nothing to do with her mutation. It was just good psychology work and keen instincts that had been honed for her skill.

Her eyes fell on the man looking a bit lost with his cup. Possibly mid-late 40's but it was hard to tell. He could very well be in his 30s but simply worn down from either some recent trauma or an awful lot of baggage. On second glance, something seemed a bit off. It was almost like she could see a hazy aura around him. Was he dead? As long as she didn't draw any attention to herself, if he was dead he shouldn't have any reason to come bother her.

ooc: Don't worry about the text color. I'll switch over to red for now.

The black coffee had the strong bitter notes that helped Paul to center himself as he sipped at it. There were lots of people that didn't like the strong concoction or only liked it after they had loaded it with lots of cream and sugar but for Paul the heat, bitterness, and earthy notes were like a soothing balm. They connected him to memories of the past while still anchoring him solidly in the present.

"Look, baby, I just can't make it tonight." A blond headed man was doing his best to talk quietly into his cell phone but sound still carried quite well in the coffee shop. "She's out this afternoon but she'll be back this evening and we're supposed to have a family dinner. You know I can't do that... with the prenup we would end up with nothing."

Shaking his head ever so slightly, Paul rolled his eyes and then slowly scanned over the rest of the shop. Why men would get married and then still maintain a roving eye was still a constant source of amazement. He had never been married himself but anytime he had been in at least a semi-stable relationship he had been completely faithful. Lumen had been his most recent but circumstances had conspired against them. Being burned at the stake for some sort of crime had made Paul have to go on what the Australians liked to call a "walkabout". While he had been gone a case had gone very wrong for Lumen and she had been forced to leave New York. Sipping his coffee again, Paul grimaced at the sour taste in his mouth though he had to admit that it wasn't from the coffee. If he had been here to help her then Lumen might not have had to leave but he had been so focused on his own problems that she had been forced to handle things on her own.

Trying to not think about such things Paul once again looked around the shop. Most of the people were rather uninteresting but then another cell phone conversation came to his attention.

"I've got my patients to worry about, and now the NYPD are talking about handling that mutant killer case off to the FBI because it's looking bigger and bigger."

Mutant killer? Now that sounded interesting. Looking at the woman with new interest Paul took another swallow of his coffee as he gave her a quick once over. Nice reddish hair, freckles... probably some Irish in her gene pool somewhere.

"For friendship. You know friendships don't come easily to me. I have a lot of baggage with my mutation and well... you. Noel wasn't scared off by any of that. I need a friend, Laura. You know this."

And there was the connection. Apparently this young woman was a mutant of some sort. It seemed like you couldn't toss a rock in New York City without hitting a mutant and baggage seemed to be par for the course when it came to them. Paul knew that he had more than his share after the many years that he had lived.

Looking down into his coffee cup, Paul gently swirled the liquid, watching the tiny whirlpool that began to form. It would be so easy to just sit here and ignore what he had heard. Sure he was alone in the city but he had lived that way for many years in the past so why shouldn't he do the same thing again? But then again if he went up and said hello what was the worst that could happen? The woman told him to buzz off and left him alone like he was now?

Finally making up his mind Paul rose smoothly to his feet and walked over to where the red haired woman was sitting. Offering her quick smile he motioned toward the empty chair at her table. "Hi, I'm Paul McCoy. Would you mind if I joined you?"

Lana saw the ghostly man walking toward her though, she was trying to look like she was working. She mentally cursed. Okay Lana, just ignore him, you can't see ghosts. You can't see him. No reasons why he should talk to you. When he gets closer he'll realize you're normal and keep going. They always get so excited when they think they've found someone.

Lana did her best to appear busy and distracted while still monitoring the situation. How did the man die? Had it been an accident getting his coffee? Had he had a heart attack in this very cafe or something of the sort? (like what she was expecting for the burly man behind her). Spirits often got stuck in locations of significance, in her experience at least. Maybe he was a habitual coffee drinker and came here every day?

Suddenly he approached, stopped in front of her, and was now asking to sit down. Spirits didn't usually ask first. Maybe the poor sap barely realized he was dead. She felt a pang of guilt.

"Look buddy..." she started. "I can't help you. All I can do is see and hear you. I'm not some medium." she kept her voice low and her face down as to not draw attention to herself. It seemed to be working, no one noticed she was speaking to a person who wasn't there. "I feel for you, I'm sorry you died. But you gotta understand how much this happens to me. I just can't go out running every errand every ghosts sends me on. If you wanna cross over or whatever, you're going to have to figure out what it is that's keeping you here." she looked up at him then. He seemed more tangible but still had the haze around him. Perhaps he didn't die a terribly awful traumatic death. Was there any other kind? Lana usually found the more unhinged the death- the more unhinged the spirit. If he had died from natural causes that would explain his apparent clarity. As opposed to someone who had been  murdered or in an accident.

"There's really nothing else I can do. Have you figured out yet if you're tied to this spot or can you leave?" if he was tied to a person, he might be showing up at the coffee place out of habit.

It was always hard to know what stage of acceptance a spirit was in- if at all. But the more balanced ones always came across like this, and they always seemed to understand they were dead and had to achieve something to move on. Some didn't want to move on, at least not yet. They enjoyed people watching. Especially if they were like Laura and tied to a person they could follow around.

"Look buddy... I can't help you. All I can do is see and hear you. I'm not some medium." The woman spoke in a low voice like she was trying to keep any one else from hearing. Without even realizing it Paul found himself quirking an eyebrow ever so slightly. This was probably the strangest introduction he had ever had and most definitely not what he was expecting.

"I feel for you, I'm sorry you died. But you gotta understand how much this happens to me. I
just can't go out running every errand every ghosts sends me on. If you wanna cross over or whatever, you're going to have to figure out what it is that's keeping you here."

"At the moment you're what's keeping me here." He spoke with a warm chuckle in his voice. For most people this would be an extremely disconcerting experience that would make them just turn and walk away but for him it was just another day. He was a thief, murderer, wizard, victim of execution, but most of all he was a Phoenix. Each rebirth gave him a chance at a new start so why should a "seer" cause him concern?

"There's really nothing else I can do. Have you figured out yet if you're tied to this spot or can you leave?"

For a moment Paul just stood there but then something occured to him. Casually he sat down and set his coffee on the table then with a quick easy movement reached across and snatched up her cell phone and her cup of coffee. He knew the shock of his actionns would only paralyze her for the briefest of time so he scanned her recent call log while taking a sip of her coffee. Instantly his mouth was coated with the fattiness of milk or cream and filled with the sickly sweetness of far to much sugar. Immediately his expression changed to one of distaste before he set both the coffee and the phone back in front of her.

"Wow... would you like some coffee with your cream and sugar there red?" Paul said before taking a large gulp of his own coffee to try and clear out the cloying sweetness that seemed to linger, "I've died from carbon dioxide poisoning, breaking my neck, and being burned at the stake along with quite a few others though I'm not dead at this moment though there must be someone here that is because you were not just talking on your phone. Last call was at least an hour or two ago not 2 or 3 minutes.

Giving her a moment to process what had just happened Paul took another swig of his coffee. Grimacing he looked into his cup and tried to decide if there was enough there to finish washing away all the sugar or if he'd need annother cup. How could she even stand to drink that stuff?

>>"At the moment you're what's keeping me here."

Lana's eyed widened and instantly her mind went into panic. What did he mean? Was he like Laura? She studied his face. She couldn't place him. Had he been a cop? Someone who died from the institution? A doctor? How could she end up with yet another ghost following her around! This was a nightmare. Laura was more than enough but at least she knew Laura. She must have met this guy briefly and he attached to her because of her mutation. She stared daggers at him while her mind processed it all. Profiling him. Trying to figure out who he was based on the slightest detail in his clothing, hair style, expression on his face even. But she was drawing a blank. Usually she was so good in high pressured situations.

The next thing she knew the ghost reached out and grabbed her coffee and her phone, taking a drink of the coffee, and clearly tapping through her history. Lana's mind didn't exactly jump to the conclusion that he was alive. For a few seconds she pondered the possibility of a spirit of a dead mutant still having some powers. She'd also met spirits who could move certain objects slightly- perhaps he'd mastered it? Of course he could be alive...  in which case she'd feel severely embarrassed in about 2 minutes. But that didn't explain the haze surrounding him. Her clinical mind was kicking back in.

>>"Wow... would you like some coffee with your cream and sugar there red?"

Lana narrowed her eyes at him. "You shouldn't take what isn't yours." she spat, snatching her coffee back, spilling a few droplets on his sleeve. Okay, so maybe that wouldn't happen with a ghost either. Her cheeks reddened.

"I've died from carbon dioxide poisoning, breaking my neck, and being burned at the stake along with quite a few others though I'm not dead at this moment though there must be someone here that is because you were not just talking on your phone. Last call was at least an hour or two ago not 2 or 3 minutes."

She stared at him. Did he just out-profile her?! Granted, Lana would never resort to an illegal measure such as snatching someone's personal phone and looking at it. Well. She usually wouldn't do something like that. Had this been some sort of contest he most certainly would have been cheating. And then, it suddenly dawned on her exactly what he must be.

"Resurgence. I've read about it. In papers. When they tried to study Wolverine and other well known mutants who could cheat death." Lana said falling comfortably back into the role of the psychologist. He'd caught her off guard, gotten her off her game. A trick the psychopaths often tried to do at the institution but always failed. She was angry she was the one to fail this time. All she could do was blame her distraction on her sister and her work. She was usually much better than this. She needed to be. It could make the difference in life or death. "So you're a mutant. And you know I'm one too. Not something I typically use to introduce myself." she studied him wearily.

Lately all she'd been meeting were mutants in New York. There had certainly been many in L.A. but she'd at least met many humans first. Aside from the people she worked with Lana wasn't sure she'd met a single human yet. To think this man could cheat death time and time again.... while she lived in constant fear of it. Her fear of death woke her up every night. Regardless of whatever baggage came with his mutation- and she knew there would be some there always was- she couldn't help but think she'd trade mutations with him in a second to escape her phobia.

"I'm Dr. Lana Than." she said professionally, reaching over and taking her phone back. "I see dead people, and to avoid looking crazy in public I pretend to talk on my phone. I thought you were dead. You look like someone who is dead. Er... no offence" she'd been so close. So close to sounding perfectly professional and perfectly normal, until the awkwardness crept in and she lost it at the end. "...and you are... a mutant with the power to cheat death? be reborn? resurgence? Maybe one who'd forgotten his manners about meeting people?" a twinkle in her eye suggested she was annoyed, but maybe not all together offended, and maybe just slightly amused.

She looked around at the confidential files she had piled on the table, and reached across quickly stacking them into a neat pile and putting them into a bag. It was always risky to take files into the public, but she'd had a stellar record of being accountable. There was no way she could stay on her case load without taking things home with her. But that wasn't to say she wasn't breaking a few rules by having them out. If a file got lost, fell into the hands of the media, or someone worse... Lana would be permanently out of any job.

"You shouldn't take what's yours."

Paul had to laugh as he pulled back his arm and wiped the coffee drops off of his sleeve. He probably deserved that sort of comment especially since he had breached the lines of etiquette quite blatantly. It probably wasn't the nicest way to introduce himself but it was definitely a good way to break the ice.

As she admitted that he was right in his assumption Paul simply smiled to himself and took another swig of his coffee... unfortunately it was also the last bit of liquid in his cup. Looking down into the now empty vessel he found himself scowling every so slightly. He had almost gotten rid of that horrible taste and feeling in his mouth but not quite. He normally only drank one cup of coffee at a time but in this instance he was probably going to make an exception.

"I'm Dr. Lana Than. I see dead people, and to avoid looking crazy in public I pretend to talk on my phone. I thought you were dead. You look like someone who is dead. Er... no offense ...and you are... a mutant with the power to cheat death? be reborn? resurgence? Maybe one who'd forgotten his manners about meeting people?"

"Well normally forgetting my manners only happens when I meet someone that thinks I'm a ghost." Paul replied with a twinkle in his own eye, "And it's nice to meet you Dr. Than. Excuse me just one moment."

Standing up from the table Paul made his way back over to the counter to order a fresh cup of coffee. After a few moments he held the fresh, hot, life giving brew in his hand and made his way back to the table for the young woman.

"Doctor... and you work for the NYPD. I would guess that means you're either some sort of forensics analyst, psychologist, or profiler." Paul stated before once again cleansing his mouth with a sip of the steaming liquid, "As for me I define myself as a Phoenix. The mythical story of the bird that dies and is reborn in flame and ash is true in my life."

Leaning back in his chair, Paul looked at Lana closely. He was not a professional profile by any stretch of the imagination but over the course of 90 years he had picked up a few things. The hint of weariness and tiredness around the eyes combined with the stack of files that had only moments before been on that table allowed him to make a few assumptions.

"And you are an overachiever that pushes herself to hard to accomplish her goals. You struggle to make meaningful connections with people for some reason, probably due to your mutation, and you've just picked up a new room mate." Paul observed thoughtfully, "You make your cases extremely personal probably because you often get to know the victims even though they've already passed on. Sound about right?"

>>"Well normally forgetting my manners only happens when I meet someone that thinks I'm a ghost.And it's nice to meet you Dr. Than. Excuse me just one moment."

She watched as he got up and walked to get a new coffee. She wasn't sure if he was being cocky, arrogant, or just distracted. He came back and sat at the table again with a fresh coffee. Lana wasn't sure if she liked this. She felt like she was on the wrong end of the interrogation table.


>>"Doctor... and you work for the NYPD. I would guess that means you're either some sort of forensics analyst, psychologist, or profiler. As for me I define myself as a Phoenix. The mythical story of the bird that dies and is reborn in flame and ash is true in my life."

"A little of all three." she replied, determined to be vague. Who was this guy and what was his deal? Was she encountering a mutant psychopath? They did tend to have the very odd mutations. The more she thought about it, the more she realized he'd fit in quite well at the institution.


>>"And you are an overachiever that pushes herself to hard to accomplish her goals. You struggle to make meaningful connections with people for some reason, probably due to your mutation, and you've just picked up a new room mate. You make your cases extremely personal probably because you often get to know the victims even though they've already passed on. Sound about right?"

"Not bad." replied Lana slipping into her mask and her role. As soon as she decided to adopt this situation as if he were a patient, she felt better and in control. He was clearly trying to challenge her a bit. "I assume you experience similar feelings. Past lives, constantly reliving faded memories of a dozen lifetimes. Lost family, lost loves. How does one have a relationship when he will continually outlive his partner?" she stared him down now. She wasn't aggressive, her tone was still light. But if he wanted her to bring it, she would. "You look to be about in your 40's, but of course there's no way of knowing. Maybe you don't even know your own age. You've lost count. I supposed even when you surround yourselves with friends you can feel very lonely. After all, they'll eventually die. Or you will. The difference is you come back." she took a sip of her coffee. He still hadn't introduced himself by name. "You aren't surprised by much. You've seen a lot. You'd obviously make a strong profiler. Not easily affected by what you see." she smiled then, genuinely.

Despite herself, Lana was getting off on this. Not in a sexual way. But in an intellectual way. She would never call another person stupid, but because of her skills and insight she often felt a bit above her peers on that scale. Having to dumb what she does down to make the smaller minds understand the significance. It was refreshing to meet a similar mind. A similar mutation. Well maybe not similar but relate-able. It was nice to feel the brush of challenge and interest.

"So why has a phoenix landed in New York?" she asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

Paul could see the moment that the emotional mask slipped into place. It was a look he was familiar with having worn it many times over the years himself, a way to try and keep from feeling anything while most importantly not letting anyone know exactly how much their words were affecting you.

"Not bad." Paul nodded every so slightly, accepting the extremely modest praise before she began to tell him all about himself. It was immediately apparent that her main focus had to be profiling and psychology though she said she dabbled in forensic analysis as well. Whatever she might say she was first and foremost a psychologist and a darn good one.

"Ninety-four." Paul responded softly. He probably would lose count eventually but for the moment that was one of the things that helped keep him grounded. "1919."

Falling silent, Paul finished listening to what Lana was saying. He did his best to keep his expressions open and honest, allowing her to see his reactions to her comments though she was doing her best to hide her own reactions from him.

"I've never been married. I've had lots of acquaintances but very few close friends. Romantic relationships have been even fewer though there have been a couple of women in my life over the years. Normally I've used my death and rebirth to get out of a bad situation and start over with what I hoped would be a happier chapter in my life." Paul spoke slowly and quietly, allowing his mind to drift back over the memories that stood out over the years. It was rare he allowed himself these melancholy moments but right now it seemed appropriate. Lifting his cup he took a sip of his own black brew, finally washing away the last of the fattiness and sweetness that had lingered in his mouth. Taking another sip, Paul savored the real flavor of what good strong coffee was supposed to taste like and then turned his attention back to Lana and the latest question she had shared.

"Well 'Red'," Paul responded, using a nickname that he had momentarily decided to bestow on her, "This is my third time in New York City. I was here first in 1960, again two years ago, and now I've returned. I hoped to find someone that I had left behind but things happened while I was gone and they had to move on." Taking another sip of his coffee Paul focused his gaze on the woman across from him. "What about you? Were your born and raised here in New York City and if not what brought you here?"

>>"I've never been married. I've had lots of acquaintances but very few close friends. Romantic relationships have been even fewer though there have been a couple of women in my life over the years. Normally I've used my death and rebirth get out of a bad situation and start over with what I hoped would be a happier chapter in my life."

Lana nodded as he explained. "So do you age slower? You obviously don't look to be in your 90s if I could make such a verbal observation." she smiled. It always seemed that the ones who could cheat death also cheated age. That would be something. Slow down aging or stop it all together. Lana was more preoccupied with avoiding death, but eternal youth didn't sound half bad either. Somewhere in a lab for cosmetics she was sure scientists were working away trying to figure out what made certain mutants ageless so they could apply it to their products. Now that would make a bunch of money.

>>"Well 'Red' This is my third time in New York City. I was here first in 1960, again two years ago, and now I've returned. I hoped to find someone that I had left behind but things happened while I was gone and they had to move on."

"It's Lana." she mumbled. "Or Dr. Than." she added even quieter. Still no name from the mystery phoenix. What was she supposed to resort to calling him? Grey?

>>"What about you? Were your born and raised here in New York City and if not what brought you here?"

"Well, if you've been away a while you might not know that someone is out there murdering and attempting to murder mutants. The FBI and NYPD have a joint operation to try and keep hysteria and panic down, and I'm here to do the profiling and assist. My main job is at the New York Institution for the criminally insane. I specialize in determining the difference between insanity, and really bad mutation effects. Though of course, the two often go hand in hand." explained Lana. Let him chew on that for a little bit. Her field tended to intimidate most men, as did her skills. Then again, this guy seemed like he wasn't most men.

As much as she wanted to hate him for his attitude and presumptuousness, she kind of liked this guy who still very much looked like a ghost. "It's very distracting you know." she admitted. "Seeing spiritual energy encircle you. If you could see what I see you'd know why I thought you were a spirit." she added. She had other questions she wanted to ask him. It would be amazing to include him in some sort of clinical study but that wasn't the sort of thing you up and asked a question. Hello, can I poke inside your head? Fancy a therapist? Do you consider yourself a psychopath? Those didn't seem to go over well...

Though she probably didn't realize it, Lana was beginning to ask for a little bit to much detail about Paul's mutation. He was not the least bit ashamed of being a mutant but he had learned quickly that it was best not to share every bit of information about his abilities. To give out that much information would allow a person to have power over him that he didn't want to give out. With Lumen he had begun to share some of that information and while she had never done anything to betray him she had moved on which meant that there was yet one more person wandering the world with information that could allow someone to control him or overcome him in some way.

"There's something about my rebirths that momentarily halts my age but it's not permanent." Paul said responded vaguely. There was no reason to try and explain that he had to age up to the age his body appeared before the aging process began again, that was information for him to keep private. The secret of his powers activating in the middle of fire, not just upon his death, was also something he planned on keeping to himself.

The young woman's reaction to being called 'Red' was enough to make him smile but Paul graciously accepted the correction that he knew was well deserved. "I'll call you Lana as long as you call me Paul... Mr. McCoy if you want to be formal. I think you were so distracted by my ghostliness when I walked up that you missed me saying my name."

Lana's comments about someone trying to murder mutants rolled over him without having to much affect. Death was a part of life and while Paul would try to help a friend and even the occasional stranger if he happened to be there he didn't see a whole lot of reason to get up in arms about the situation. People like Lana were paid to deal with these sorts of situations and there were plenty of other wanna be heroes in the world that would be glad to jump in.

"But who truly defines insanity? If the insane define what is insanity then the sane would be the ones defined as insane. Is insanity defined by the majority? If that is true then the definition is constantly changing."

Taking another sip of his coffee Paul smiled at her description of what he looked like. He had seen strange glimpses of glowing lights one or twice during his various deaths but nothing that stood out to him as anything special. Maybe he had been wrong and the lights were actually something special.

"I wonder if you would actually see me during the time I was dead before I came back..." He mused quietly, finding the question to be an interesting intellectual exercise. "Perhaps one day there'll be an oportunity to test it."

>>"There's something about my rebirths that momentarily halts my age but it's not permanent."

Well what did that mean? He grew curiouser and curiouser by the minute. Lana's heart might even be racing slightly at the prospect of such a mutation. She couldn't help that ambitious side of her. It's what helped her climb the career ladder after all...

>>"I'll call you Lana as long as you call me Paul... Mr. McCoy if you want to be formal. I think you were so distracted by my ghostliness when I walked up that you missed me saying my name."

Had she? Her cheeks reddened for what felt like the 100th time since this man walked over. That wasn't like her at all. But he was right, she was acting on the impression he was a ghost. She never bothered to remember their names. So many in, so many out. "That must of been it." she murmured still watching him with curiosity. She remained silent while he continued to speak. Lana wasn't one of those types who needed to be constantly talking to feel like she was communicating. Other women (or people in general) might interject with their own contributions but Lana felt out in the real world just as in the institutionalized one, it helped to let a person speak their complete thought. Often they'd have their own epiphanies with little guidance.


>>"But who truly defines insanity? If the insane define what is insanity then the sane would be the ones defined as insane. Is insanity defined by the majority? If that is true then the definition is constantly changing."

Lana gave a lop sided grin. She had a feeling Paul was one of those types. A type like her. Used to being the smartest one in the room. Perhaps a little too used to it. "It certainly makes you wonder." she commented. Not really wanting to get into a debate. Paul was beginning to sound a bit like an anarchist. Lana could appreciate a little anarchy. But she knew the value of rules far too strongly than the average person. A simple boundary or rule could save or destroy a life. She faced those things daily.


>>"I wonder if you would actually see me during the time I was dead before I came back..." He mused quietly, finding the question to be an interesting intellectual exercise. "Perhaps one day there'll be an oportunity to test it."

"Don't tempt me." she grinned. "I'm not the murdering type but if I knew you'd come right back and I could perform a unique study I might push you off a bridge." she was teasing of course, Lana was VERY bad at making jokes... but in the back of her mind she couldn't help but wonder at how amazing it would be to study a subject like Paul. It might even help her own death phobia to study his experience in a controlled environment. Of course, she actually had very little interest in what her powers might reveal. Would she see his spirit at all or would it cycle through? That didn't titillate nearly as much as the idea of seeing him reborn with her own eyes.

"Well, Mr.McCoy...." She wondered if he was any relation to Hank McCoy and if it would be rude to ask. Hank was famous in her world after all. "You've probably deduced by now, I am not typically the impulsive type. In fact, I make it a rule to follow things in a certain... plan, I suppose you could say. But there's something about you that just sparks my interest." she dug into her purse and pulled out her consulting card, then slid it across the table to him. "I'd like you to consider something. I don't need an answer now. My number and email is on the card..." she tapped at it. "My work load is terrible, and with such a serious case on the ropes it's pertinent I get through as much of the consulting process as possible. The budget of the NYPD does not allow for two profilers, but I have stores of my own." Stores was a funny way of putting it. Through careful financial choices and planning, Lana was practically loaded. "I'd very much like to contract you as a secondary investigator. It can be on a case by case basis, or you can assume my work load with me. Your choice. Think of it as the Watson to my Holmes." she gave a playful grin. "You don't need a legal background, but you'd be required to sign a non-disclosure for confidentiality purposes. You've clearly got a keen eye. Whether that's a strong personality trait, or an effect of your life experience with your mutation doesn't matter. A gift like that should not go to waste."

She paused and took a sip of her coffee, draining the last bit of sugary delight from the bottom. "Think about it." she instructed in a very- I'm not accepting an answer from you right now- sort of way. She figured his first impulse might be to say no. Paul seemed like the type who didn't enjoy meddling in the business of others. But he also seemed like the type who could get bored and needed something stimulating. Maybe something distracting. And chances were, if he was being reborn now and again he needed some work.

He couldn't possibly be any more high maintenance than her amnesiac roommate. Lana could always use more living and breathing people around her too.

For some reason Paul seemed to keep embarrassing the young woman. Once again he could see the flush rising in her cheeks and while part of him did find it quite entertaining the other larger part was beginning to feel sorry for her. Maybe he shouldn't be picking on her quite so much. They had just met after all and for all he knew they might never see each other again. He wasn't exactly being a model gentleman in this situation.

"I don't come 'right back'... there is a time delay." Paul corrected gently, still keeping his information vague while he offered a slight smile at her morbid attempt at humor. Thankfully he and death were old friends so there was no fear that came coursing up at her comment. Others might have been more bothered by her comments but for Paul they were hardly worth noting.

Reaching out, Paul picked up the card and slowly read it over before tucking it into his jacket pocket. He wasn't quite sure that he was cut out to be 'Watson' to anyone but who knew, stranger things had happened in his life. He had committed various crimes in the past so why not try to stop others from committing far worse ones? While it was true that he had even killed a couple of times he had never been a serial killer and hadn't he always done his best to leave murder as the very last course of action?

"I'll make sure to take it under advisement." He spoke with a smile but from his tone of voice it was obvious that he was taking the matter quite seriously.

"But tell me Lana... I'm curious. Obviously you must have very clear lines of morality that you follow or you wouldn't have ended up with the NYPD. Would stealing ever be an acceptable course of action? What about killing? " Paul asked quietly, his blue eyes boring directly in her brown ones, "Can your actions ever be justified because of the results they bring about?" It was a question that would definitely help his decision on whether working with her would be the right choice or not. It was a question that he had to wrestle with and come to grips with most every day and while his answer had evolved somewhat over time he still had a very clear idea of where he stood on the issue.

>>"But tell me Lana... I'm curious. Obviously you must have very clear lines of morality that you follow or you wouldn't have ended up with the NYPD. Would stealing ever be an acceptable course of action? What about killing? " Paul asked quietly, his blue eyes boring directly in her brown ones, "Can your actions ever be justified because of the results they bring about?"

Lana smiled, despite herself. And despite herself, she couldn't help but envision great adventures with Paul. He was winning her over already. "Well..." she began taking a breath. "I follow my own sense of justice. It just so happens it lines up pretty frequently with the NYPD. The work I do with them, allows me to do the work I'm called to do- with psychopaths" added Lana. "I've done many things, and maybe that's not apparent because I'm not dragging it around like baggage. I frequently enter homes without warrants." she waggled her eyebrows. She was being serious, but her tone was comical.  Working for the NYPD and searching a suspects home without a warrant could jeopardize a whole case. While it sounded like it wasn't a big deal, it was. "I've sent men and women to the electric chair. Men and women that were faking away an illness in mental hospitals in order to get away with their crimes." she gazed out the window. "If you're asking me if I'd kill someone... I don't know. I haven't had to yet. But if you're asking about the rules I follow? I follow justice. Justice is the most important thing to me. Dead people have no one else to speak for them. It's my job to do that. My job to find their killers. My job to be sure they can't hurt someone else."

Lana's features grew a little dark. She momentarily thought of her sister. Dead by the hand of a drunk driver who was off living a merry life somewhere, having never been even so much as identified. But it wasnt just her sister. Lana had seen so much injustice. She'd spoken to the dead. "Sometimes I already know who the guilty are." she remarked, thinking of the many dead who had pointed her in the direction of the guilty. "But a court wont accept "my mutation told me so". I need to make things fit together, the long way. It eats up my life. Takes over...." she turned her eyes back to Paul and they bore right back into him. For a few seconds- only a few- her eyes clouded over white and she saw more of his spiritual aura than she did oh him. "...and I don't stop until the job is done." Something changed in her persona then. She'd been light, bubbly, and enjoying their rapport. But something stronger and more intense was lingering just below the surface of those words. She was a blood hound.

She could of gone on and on, it was true. But Lana wasn't going to trip over herself to get this guy to work with her. She needed the help, it was true. But that's what interns were for. She was far more interested in getting to know Mr. McCoy, and if he told her outright here and now he has no interest... well, she'd simply tell him she'd like to see him again. Now she just needed to be reading with a reason.

She was a rule breaker though not quite on Paul's level and she was willing to allow the end to justify the means up to a point. She was passionate about what she did and a workaholic in some respects though her particular mutation did give her a good excuse. All her talk about work made him wonder what she did to relax and burn off steam. It was question that he let simmer in the back of his mind, turning over and over while he tried to come up with sort of theory.

"I'll get back to you on working with you on a regular basis but I can go ahead and offer occasional help if you need it. In one of my past... incarnations I pulled a few burglary jobs that have given me some expertise that may prove helpful." Paul's offer was put forth in a rather neutral tone though there was the slightest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He wondered exactly what her reaction to this particular revelation might be though he wasn't to concerned just yet. He doubted a few burglaries in his past would phase her that much though he was pretty sure that some of his more recent activities might be a little harder to accept. The battle he had taken part in with Lori that had left several men dead, a couple by his own hand, might turn her off just a tad. "I will warn you though, I did have a run in with a Detective Cervantes about a year or so ago that might make the NYPD in general and him in particular a tad suspicious if you happen to bring me in on a case."

"But here's a question for you." Paul continued, his curiosity getting the best of him and leaking into the tone of his voice, "With all the work what do you do for fun?" Looking at her he thought it was possible she might be into some sort of music paired with a nice glass of wine or some such thing. More than likely her idea of relaxing was a time away from other people so that way she didn't have any chance of accidentally bumping into any ghosts.