Cafas watched Isaac storm off and turned his attention back to the thief. His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. "Start talking." And talk he did. Cafas' jaw was set so tightly it was starting ache. He was resisting the urge to lay out the thief with all his might. He couldn't afford to hit another mansion student. At least not another one that Sam knew personally.

"Cover the repairs? Oh, believe me, you were doing that anyway. The man you hit, you're covering his clothes too. You're just real lucky he's a mutant. Now let's talk about the future. The theft ends today. Prank or not, that's against the law, and it affects all mutants in this city when you make us look like bad guys. Secondly, if I don't see you at the Mansion, I'm going to find you. Is that clear?

Better be crystal... Whoa, language... Clear.

Mouthy git needed to understand that when Cafas said he'd find him, he damn well meant it. It would not end well for the green kid if he forced Cafas to track him down. Making Cafas find you was a dangerous game of hide and seek indeed. The metal manipulator did not like having to track criminals down. He was not exactly gentle when it came to arresting someone, unless they surrendered.

"Now, if you understand all that, I'll let you go."

His mouth had run enough already, so when the pink-haired man offered him an ultimatum, he simply nodded and took it.

Me at the mansion? Unlikely. But perhaps he'd stick his head in at some point. Take his time. As for clothes and repairs, well. He HAD said it. Except for clothes. And hell. Those clothes were likely expensive, if they were making such a huge deal. But-- it was an out that didn't involve fighting or handcuffs and red and blue lights. And that was a step up from where he'd been five minutes before.

Pink-hair wrapped up by saying if he understood everything, he'd be free to go. Now it was Elliott's turn to say something.

"Yeah," Elliott said. His tone was serious, jaw set. He was serious about what he was saying. And anything else that came later, he'd have to sell just as well. "I understand. I'll cover it. We should probably exchange names towards that end. And whenever he's cooled down, I still want to apologize to the other guy. I know I said that. But I'm serious. You're right. We're all lucky. If giving him money to get new clothes helps it so we don't wind up mortal enemies, I'll take it. Speaking terms is better than what we've got now." Even angry grunting is better than that. "I'm just glad he didn't get hurt. I'm," urp. Apologies tasted like bile. "Sorry," Elliott finished soberly. "Also." He paused. "Just so we are being honest, I don't live at the mansion yet. Sam gave me a card, and I looked into it. But I have an apartment in the city right now. I was thinking about taking a mansion class." Full disclosure hopefully helped call off that mercilessly bloody search sure to follow. 

Hmm, not at the Mansion made things slightly more complicated in the short term. In the long term the green kid had better move in. Never the less, he hoped the threat of Isaac's anger would be enough to see him actually pay them both. The hard part would be convincing Isaac, if the sound of pounding metal was any indication. Cafas sighed internally, showing no sign of weakness externally eyes and face hard.

Cafas' hand flashed to the make shift cuffs and melted them. He stood over Greenie, suffocatingly close. "You have a month for the clothes. The bike by June. You go over either of those, and you'll be dealing with the respective owner. You do not want to be dealt with. Prison ain't fun for such an obvious mutant." Cafas was starting to get the hang of intimidation. At least in his own mind.

The X-man straightened up and stepped back a short step, eyes not leaving the mutant in front of him, gaze withering. "I might consider moving if I were you. Oh, and I'll be having your name. Now, let's finalise this little deal." Cafas turned his head in the direction of the forge "ISAAC." His voice rang from lungs well used to shouting over the din of fights, or forges. It didn't even hurt his throat that bad any more.

Heheheh. Obvious mutant. That was always a good joke. He kept a straight face about it, though. Some people and their delusions that everyone who looks funny is a mutant. Some are also from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous, or something like that. Mercury. Venus. That planet men are from. The Moon. It was silly to assume. It just makes an ass of you and me. But he let him believe what he liked. People looked at him funny when he corrected them about that. He hadn't said he would have to move into the mansion right away, regardless of his reaction to being called a mutant. He let that sit.

Clothing money in a month would be easy, so long as they weren't as expensive as a truck or a house. The bike repairs, he already had a friend and funds for. The name?

"October Elliott," Elliott replied coolly. It was part of his name, at least. So it didn't feel like lying and he could sell it real easily.

Now, he just had to wait for pink-hairs friend.

The hammer struck the mutilated piece of steel with animal ferocity. Whatever words were being said outside the room, Isaac didn’t want to hear it. Cafas was being weak. The kid was a punk and a thief. He’d tried to steal the bike, he’d wrecked Isaac’s clothes, and now he was trying to sweet-talk his way out of what he deserved.

Isaac heated the steel to a limp, glowing mass and smashed it with the hammer, spraying molten particles across the room. This is what the kid deserved- to get his face smashed in until he payed up or spilled the name of someone who could.

>>”ISAAC!”

What was left of the steel bar melted in Isaac’s clenched fist. He barely kept from throwing the hammer against the wall. Instead, he just gripped it tighter as he stormed to the door, molten steel dripping from his hand onto the concrete floor.

“WHAT??”

October Elliot. Weird name, but then who the hell was Cafas to talk about having a weird name? At least he didn't give some code name. Those were just impossible to keep straight. No, Cafas liked real names when he could get them. Real names were much easier to look up, and offered a level of leverage a code name didn't.

Isaac entered like a storm "enters" a harbor. Cafas could feel the heat radiating off him, as if the molten iron dripping from his hands wasn't obvious enough. It wasn't often Cafas was so close to a large mass at crucible temperatures. Even with years of smithing to build heat tolerance, he had to take a step back. "October Elliot and I have reached something of an accord. He has one month to front the cash for your clothes, so you'll need to provide a figure. I've given him til June for the bike. He's also going to move into that Mutant school, so they can keep an eye on his delinquency. If he fails to meet any of those conditions, you and me are going to find him. I don't think I have to explain to either of you how bad that will be for him."

Very very bad... I don't think I can go back on this promise without getting burned.

The metal manipulator braved the receding temperature of Isaac to get in a private word with him. He had a distinct feeling that deal wasn't going to be to his liking, as it didn't involve immediate repercussions for Mr. "My last name is a first name" Elliot. He dropped his voice low, eyebrows rising, somewhere between matter of fact and apologetic. "Look, short term I'll chuck you the money for your clothes if you need. I promise I'd rather take it out on his body too, but we can always do that if he fails to pay up. This works out though, there's no out of pocket expense for us. I like that a lot more than I like hurting people." Cafas shot a look back over his shoulder at the kid, just for a lingering second. "Even if they deserve it."

God keeping the peace is full of lies... Why doesn't peace hold up on its own? Why do people have to have violent natures?

He had to be more careful in the future. Reckless vehicle acquisitions just weren't his style.

He kept silent through the summary of their agreement. The guy was putting off heat like a furnace. He was angry. He let pink hair deal with him. He let pink hair plead his case. He really didn't like how they pulled off to whisper sweet nothings, no doubt about broken bones and repercussions. Concussions? Repercussion concussions. Possibly. He wasn't sure what they were saying. He waited until they returned.

He was thankful he was free. He was glad he had worked this out. The repayment would suck. The mission was a bomb. He had made an enemy. He had revealed himself to a "good guy". Even if he had lied about his name, that put some power in pink hairs hands. He didn't like that. The mission failure wouldn't look good and he didn't like that either. It was bad for business.

A simple apology was not going to cut it here. When they came back he kept it simple. "I've agreed to everything he said. I'll make it up to you. I never wanted to crash into you. I regret it. Im sorry. New clothes and repairs. What he said." That was all.