There was little Themba disliked more than rain. Unfortunately for her it was belting it down outside. She watched it drizzle down the plane windows. Hopefully it wouldn't be raining in NYC. Her thoughts turned to what she was going to do when she arrived. She hadn't really got anything, there had been no time. So far she had narrowed down her options to two. The Sanctuary or the X-Men’s Mansion.

-A little while later-

Themba pulled a suitcase from the baggage rack. Rifling through it she pulled out her mirror from it. A new face for a new day, she spent a couple of minutes rearranging her face to be more masculine. Zipping the luggage shut, the now he, strode toward the exit. He got about halfway before realising that he had no idea where either the mansion or the sanctuary were.
Letting off a small hrumpf Themba picked someone at random and walked up to them.

“Hey, sorry for interrupting. You wouldn't happen to know where the Sanctuary and the X-Mens Mansion are? Oh and which is closer”

Zinnia had accompanied Steph to the airport more to make sure she made it onto the plane than for any other reason. Her housemate was terrified of flying, and had cried on the way to the airport. Twice. Zinnia was glad she was now safely on board the flying metal tube, and no longer her problem. She had settled in to people watching for a few minutes, planning to stay until she finished the airport coffee, then head home to study. The airport was always a good place for a sample of all people, locals going, tourists coming, it was a babble of noise and bustle. Visible mutations popped up here and there, along with the occasional wild hairstyle, or tattoos swirling across skin.

A young man came up to her, and broke her people-watching spell. He seemed to be made entirely of paper, and her first reaction was thinking that she has inadvertently stumbled into a performance piece. She glanced around, and not seeing any other members of a supposed flash-mob she realised that this was a mutant, a mutant looking for help from the sounds of things.

“I know where the Mansion is, I’ve been there before, I can help you catch the right bus if you like? I haven’t been to the Sanctuary, but I think I know roughly where it is. For that you’re better off catching the subway.”

Or a taxi, if you could get one who would go to that area of town. Often drivers were nervous about entering the territory roamed by mutant supremacists. Even some of the visible mutation drivers avoided it, due to the risk to their cars. Money was money though, and with enough of it there was bound to be someone who could deliver the paperman there.

“Did you have a preference?”

She glanced behind the man, he didn’t seem to be being pursued right this very instant, but asking for those two places usually meant that this was a mutant in trouble. She skimmed her eyes over him lightly, she was a professional in spotting injuries, but she was used to skin and bones, and not parchment. For a big pile of paper he was difficult to read. She tipped her head, a little concerned.

“Is everything ok?”

“I know where the Mansion is, I’ve been there before, I can help you catch the right bus if you like? I haven’t been to the Sanctuary, but I think I know roughly where it is. For that you’re better off catching the subway.”
“Did you have a preference?”

With every movement part of Themba’s face refolded, which made the the part around his face particularly disorientating when he spoke.
“Not really. Mainly whichever would be most likely to give me a place to sleep for a little. I left in a bit of a hurry so I don't actually have much”


“Is everything ok?”
He sheepishly raised his hand to scratch at his neck, a strange motion considering he doesn't get itchy.
“Aha. Hopefully now it is. When I left it was shortly after…”
He kinda trails off, the memory clearly very upsetting.
“Lets just say it wasn't pleasant”

The face of the paper mutant (young? old? She couldn’t really tell) shifted before her eyes, reshaping to allow him to speak. It was rather fascinating. The medical part of her wondered if he had lungs, the socially apt part of her decided it would be rude to ask. He seemed a little bashful to be asking about places to stay, but didn’t immediately give off an aura of fear. He indicated his meagre possessions and she dipped her head in acknowledgement. He was like so many others, probably, seeking a life in New York City, a place forced into acceptance through the mistakes of its past. A mutant accepting, if not somewhat friendly, city. On the surface at least.

“The mansion is a school, and many of the people who live there are young, but I have seen adults there too. I believe they would be able to help you short-term at least.”

Plus, she knew where it was, which was an added bonus.

“They will know what options you have, and help point you in the right direction. They have a reputation for taking in…” Strays? Wanderers? “…people with nowhere else to go.”

He indicated his past wasn’t pleasant, and she decided to let it be. If it was not pleasant she probably didn’t want to know.

“Well, then I hope you get off on a better foot in our city. Do you have an umbrella?"

She drained the last of her coffee and binned her cup. It hadn’t been pouring out there when she entered, but there had been a light drizzle, and it was a slight walk to the stop where they would catch the bus from. If he didn’t, there were a dozen or so little airport shops which sold overpriced bits and pieces, like toothpaste, or umbrellas. If he did then she would lead the way. The mansion bus route ran close to where she was going, the wrong direction, but she didn’t mind a little bit of study procrastination.

“The mansion is a school, and many of the people who live there are young, but I have seen adults there too. I believe they would be able to help you short-term at least.”

"Sounds good. I'm technically supposed to be in school, so that's a plus. Or a minus, depending on how you look at it"

Themba groaned at the mention of an umbrella.

"Unfortunately I need a fair bit more than an umbrella. Waterproof stuff was one of the few things I brought."

He lies the suitcase down a grabs two full length raincoats. There is only a handful of stuff in the suitcase, so it's not hard for him to find them. He puts the both on, his paper clothes folding into his body.

"How much is the bus fare? I have a pocket of change and that's it"

Well, that was new. A paper mutant? That seemed like a rather impractical mutation, and certainly not one that would belong in Ragnarok, considering their penchant for fire. But Ambrose liked to think that he had a quota of good deeds to fulfill, and helping this clearly confused mutant out would count for at least something.

Ambrose was at the airport because he was returning from a business trip - the actual business-related JW kind, not the Ragnarok kind. There was a car outside waiting to take him home, which he knew was very, very close to the X-Mansion, where the guy wanted to go. Superhuman hearing came in handy once in a while, and this was one of those times. Maybe he'd offer the paper mutant a ride. His public facade was entirely nonthreatening, after all, if you were to ignore the wings.

He walked over just in time to see the paper mutant take out two raincoats, for some reason, and ask about bus fares. Even better - he could definitely help with that.

"Excuse me," he said, addressing the papery one, "I couldn't help but overhear that you'd like to go to the X-Mansion. If you want, I could give you a ride - I live pretty close to it." He extended a hand, unsure of whether or not the guy would or could shake it, but it was the sentiment that mattered. "Ambrose Jaager. Nice to meet you." He turned to the other woman, aware that it'd be impolite to just ignore her. "If you need transportation, I could drive you too. We have to pass through the city anyway, if you're going there."

Technical plusses were still plusses in her books, and a chance to pursue an education should never be snorted at, no matter how old you were. The paper mutant confirmed Zinnia’s suspicion about his solubility by digging out not one but two different rain jackets and donning them both. She was prepared to answer the bus fare question when a stranger approached them to offer a lift. A quick glance at his face and she sort of recognised him from assorted news articles. The boring ones. About stocks.

He introduced himself to the young man, and offered to drive her too, as an afterthought. She eyed the claws protruding from the ends of his fingers when he offered his hand to the younger man, and stuffed her hands deep within her pockets. She was all for visible mutations, but less so for getting a handful of talon.

With no real way of telling what age the paper mutant was, only some of her alarm bells were sounding about stranger danger, and most of them were the ‘don’t go with strangers if you’re a visible mutant’ type, although did it really count if the person offering the lift was a visible mutant too? She shook her head politely at the offer of a lift.

“No thanks, I’m waiting for someone.”

The lie came easily. The bus with a dozen strangers was safer than a car with one. Two, if the paper mutant decided to take the offer of a lift. With claws like that she’d be frightened to refuse. She retrieved a crumpled first-aid business card from the depths of her pocket and offered it to the paper mutant. It had her number on it, so he could call for help if things took a turn for the worse. Was it rude to offer someone made of paper a paper object? Was it like someone writing their number on a hunk of flesh and passing it to her? The thought was rather unappealing. She wished she had a coffee to sip on, as she glanced at the paper mutant to see if he would accept the winged man’s offer.

Claws and wings. Interesting combo and coupled with the face it was one he recognised. As much as he would rather not get in a car with someone random it was a lot more convenient than a bus. Also, he was a rich mutant and connections were very very nice to have. He knew that, it's how he got here after th-
He cut off that line of thought quickly. It lead to Bad Things.

He took the business card and with a brief bit of concentration it slid into his arm, a slit opening and closing smoothly. Sure he was showing off but hey, it'd been a long day.

"Thanks. I think I'll take you up on that lift. Means less chance of melting in the rain at least."

He turned to face the woman before speaking again. "Thanks for the advice. I'd give you my number in return but I don't have one yet. Hopefully I'll see you round"

Now he just had to catch a lift with the winged, clawed and admittedly slightly creepy rich dude.