Attacked before. Ended badly. Sometimes dangerous. "I understand," Elliott replied mildly. He was processing that bit of information, and dropped into silence for a moment.

"Humans can be dangerous, too." He added thoughtfully. Paused. Continued. "I guess everyone can. It's really about how we react." And then he let that deep comment sink in.

The dog-man shifted back into a small animal, for the sake of easy-carrying. The Metabot carried him off to jail / the pound / where ever it was he was going peacefully, now that his cover had been blown. Elliott really wasn't sure. The dog man hadn't gotten violent. He'd simply ran when he saw the robot, and then calmed down. People can sometimes just be weird. The lady had returned to the crowd, now that she had lost the family pet. She seemed sad, distant, and upset. Also cute, but one doesn't focus on that when you know for a fact a girl is crazy. A girl is crazy when she adopts a grown man who pretends to be Toto from the Wizard of Oz for fun.

The concert was nearly wrapped up. The band announced their final song of the day, The Stars. The red mustache guy, the silver-skinned robot man, and the lady character with the purple-red hair all sang together for this one. It was one of their newer songs.

With the theatrics out of the way, Tyson was feeling a bit more comfortable in his surroundings. While the smell and sound of the crowd could be overwhelming, the fact that people didn't even register the wolf in their midst helped put his mind at ease. He started to enjoy the concert for it's intended purpose. It also helped to have a new friend by his side. "Grrrr gooood musiiic," he commented, it was very different from the mainstream music, sort of a mix of new and old styles that seemed fitting with the leather and metal costumes that was steampunk. "Hrrrr whaaaat is rrrrrrr baaaands naameee?" he asked Elliott. Honestly he didn't know much about steampunk music artists, and having just wondered onto the scene, he hadn't seen any of the fliers that explained the performers at all. Honestly he could get into this, and considering how he went unnoticed it this crowd, it was a potential place he could fit in, if nothing else then liking the same music. True he wouldn't be wearing any body paint any time soon, but perhaps some silver and gold hairspray and he could pull off a 'steam wolf' look.

He glaced at the woman who had essentially lost her pet. He couldn't help but feel bad for her. But in all honesty, there was nothing he would be able to do. Even if he offered condolences, he wouldn't be able to do so without revealing his nature, and even if she didn't freak out, she was just as likely to blame him for what had happened, so he decided to just let it go. She would likely go on to pick out a new pet and get on with her life. It felt cruel, but then, he had lost his entire life when his father had activated his mutation, losing a pet was hardly comparable in the long run.

"Steam Powered Giraffe," Elliott answered. It was a unique name. And the funny thing was, the name had come before they'd decided to be steam punk and purchased a steam powered giraffe. A steam powered giraffe danced on-stage.

The music continued for another couple of minutes, and then the band announced the end of the set with a "We are steam powered giraffe. We love you!" Etc. Etc. People flocked to get autographs and meet the band. Elliott glanced the other way.

"Hey," He said. "Sort of spur of the moment and all, but do you want to go somewhere and chat? Maybe get a cup of coffee. I know a place that's very pro-mutant. I'm not trying a pick-up line or anything," he laughed. "Though in hindsight, it kind of sounded like one. Just seems to me like you need someone to talk to. And I have ears, despite the whole earless look I've got going on." He pointed to the sides of his head, and the whole lack of ears.

Tyson considered the name and the animatronic on stage. The name was a bit weird but he was no one to judge. The music was good and that is what counted for him. As people started heading up for autographs, Tyson stayed where he was. He may have considered it in his old life, but now it would probably be a bad idea, not only because of the crowd, but because he was sure if he got anywhere near 'celebrities' he would cause a scene. Maybe when he could get a more convincing costume. And had learned to speak without growling half the time.

Honestly Tyson couldn't drink coffee, not without spilling it all over the place. His mouth just wasn't designed for drinking in a normal manner, and he had not figured out a way to drink without making a mess. But he did like the idea of just sitting and talking. He found venting on people helped a bit, and the idea that there was actually some place he could go that was okay with how he looked was very appealing. "Hrrrrrr sooounds gooood rrrr," he said, "rrrrrrrr haaaave vooiice deeespiiiite thrrrrrr whoooole wooolf thing." he shot back, attempting to show he had some form of humor despite his appearance.

Elliott humored him with a smile and a laugh. Being able to joke was one of the best coping mechanisms when dealing with big changes like becoming a mutant. He couldn't really speak from experience on the being a mutant side of things, but he had dealt with big changes. New York was still pretty new, for instance. And there were a lot of things he still didn't understand.

"Follow me, then." He smiled.

The coffee place wasn't more than four blocks away. They were short blocks, too. The building it had a store front on the first floor of was old brick in traditional New York style. The place was called 'Lou's'. The glass window had a white design on it that looked like a cup of coffee on a saucer set in front of what looked like a crescent moon. Except there were two eyes floating above the smile and behind the coffee, Cheshire cat style. Inside, there were thirteen tables and a bar motif, with stools set in any old place, rather than set distances apart. It was done in a lot of wood with carvings, and had a homey feel. Scattered around the shop were some obvious mutants, some not-so-obvious, and some that looked like they might not have had a home to go back to. They drank coffee, just like everyone else. The place had a system where you could toss money in the jar that went towards helping homeless people get a cup of coffee and a bite to eat. He liked the system. At one point, Elliott might have had to make use of it. The whole place was easy going. Behind the counter, there was a pretty girl with a cat tattoo that almost seemed to move. It was poised in a grooming position.

A big man was working in the back. You could see him through the diner style kitchen window. He was entirely purple, with darker purple stripes.

"Hey Lou," Elliott waved. The purple man nodded, friendly smile on his face, then dropped his attention back to what he was cooking. "This place is a little gem. They serve more than coffee, too. Practically everything. Go ahead. Ask Cherise if they can make it. Try and stump her." Elliott nodded to the tattoo girl. The cat tattoo had moved on from grooming to batting a ball of yarn across her arm. It bounced back when it hit her wrist every time.

Tyson followed Elliott, making sure to keep his hood tight after they had left the safety of costume induced suspension of disbelief. He wasn't sure how far that effect would extend, but he didn't want to take chances. The scents of the concert started to fade as they got further away, a good breeze was able to push the scent away, but brought with it the scents from there destination. He could smell the coffee from here, there was no mistaking that odor, but with it he could begin to detect a wide array of other scents. He sniffed a little, seeing if he could distinguish what he was smelling. Danica had suggested figuring out his nose and getting used to the impact it had on him.

Besides the obvious coffee, what else? Hmmmm expresso, kinda expected from a cafe. Cinnamon, caramel, hazelnut, cocoa, common flavorings. Cloves, nutmeg, ginger... Butterscotch... Tea... Citrus, definitely orange and lemon... Raspberry.... Honey... Cream... Something baked... Muffins? And something else, smells like... Cookies... And that was only the beginning, how far were they from this place? It was strange he felt it was right next to him but he couldn't actually see the shop. He was surprised when it took a couple of blocks to reach the place. He supposed being down wind made it easy for him to pick up the scent.

He looked at the decor and decorations as they walked in, a bit curious to what a 'mutant friendly cafe looked like. It looked ordinary, well, besides those running the place. He was quick to pick up on the moving tattoo, small moving animals drew his attention easily. He was just glad that he hadn't felt the urge to pounce on the woman. Probably due to the inky look of it and lack of cat scent. The purple man didn't surprise him by now, after a walking prawn, grasshopper man, and his own reflection, different color skin was take by comparison. At Elliot's urging to try and stump Charise he took another sniff. From far away he had been able to scent a good deal, inside the shop, it was like an ingredient list being shoved in his face. Of course the key here was to detect what wasn't there. He needed to separate the smells up, easier said then done, but it was easier then trying to sort out a crowd. Individuals carried a multitude of scents, not just singular ones, and ones he had never encountered as a human, food he at least had experience with.

Of course he also needed something that would also be an actual drink, he could probably say human flesh, but that would be in bad taste, and probably cheating. So he smelt what was there and tried visualizing the flavor combinations. It wasn't so hard, his nose was so strong he could almost taste it anyway. Then he thought of things he had smelt before that didn't seem to be present among the odors. And he had something. "Hrrrrrr cuuucumberrrrr, meeloon, rrrr and alooooe," he said, he could smell cucumbers, but melon and aloe seemed absent from among the scents. Thanks to Xavia, he had tasted raw aloe before, and he remembered the taste of fresh melon as a human. With those scents and flavored in mind, he could picture a refreshing drink that would be cool, sweet, with a soft pulpy texture that soothed. Of course, even if she could make it he wouldn't be able to drink it, not without making a mess, he was just rising to Elliott's challenge.

Charise glanced over her shoulder and called out the order for Pete. The redheaded mutant stepped out from where he'd been hidden behind the wall by the window. He nodded, then snapped. One snap, two snaps. As many as it took to get the ingredients. They simply appeared. In reality, he was a teleporter who could also summon food. He wasn't stealing it. It was his. It was just in a large freezer in his apartment nearby. A cool trick, and useful. It tended to impress the ladies. He handed Charise the ingredients with a smirk, and she laughed and shook her head. Again, ladies tended to be impressed.

"I'll have it for you in a moment, sir." She said, sunny smile on her face. She let him know the price.

Elliott chuckled. "See? Impossible to stump her." Now, what was he going to order. He thought about it for a moment, while Tyson handled the order and payment. Once he was done, Elliott stepped up and ordered a mocha latte. Simple. Delicious. He wasn't interested in stumping her. He was more interested in lunch. "And a chocolate biscotti," he added.

"Yum," She replied. He handled payment.

Cheater, thought Tyson, pulling out his wallet and dumping a few bills out. He couldn't really pull it out without shredding it, which his rather sorry looking wallet full of tears and gashes seemed to convey. He didn't call her out on it, but he felt that it wasn't really the fact that no one could stump her, it was more the fact she had a teleporting mutant fetching ingredients to fill her order no matter how exotic. Well, didn't matter anyway, Elliott was just having a little fun at his expense.

When the glass of green cucumber/melon/aloe juice was set in front of him, he carefully gripped it between his hands and carried it to the table. It was obvious by the way he carried it he was trying hard not to spill or crush the glass between his hands. They weren't all that great at delicate tasks. Still he managed to get it to the table without destroying it. Then he was left with the task of what exactly to do with it. He couldn't even drink from a bowl without creating a huge mess, a cup? Impossible. Not that it didn't smell good, very fresh, he just wasn't built for it anymore. But he didn't want to make a bad impression by refusing the first drink he had received from Charise. The gears in his mind turned as he tried to figure out some method of drinking that didn't involve dumping the glass.

He gipped the glass in his hands and brought it to his mouth, trying not to drop it. He didn't really like the idea of drinking like an animal, but what choice did he really have? He stuck his tongue into the glass, trying to lap up some of the juice. He was not used to the motion, leaving his tongue just hanging in the glass for a moment before pulling it back in. Not really much in his mouth, but it did at least taste good.

The straw plopped down on the table in front of Tyson with a light tap of paper on plastic. Chair legs scooted across the floor. Elliott sat down and scooted back in. He rested his chin on his palm, and looked across the table at Tyson for a moment. He smiled. "I figured maybe you could use a straw?"

He sat back in his chair, and picked up his biscotti from off its white paper napkin. He broke off a piece, and dipped it into his coffee. He'd already taken the lid off the cup. The coffee was steaming, and it smelled like chocolate and high quality java.

He chewed on his piece of biscotti thoughtfully, and just sat for a minute, enjoying it. Conversation could come whenever it chose to. For now, food and the enjoying of it were good enough.

Tyson looked at the straw. A pang of embarrassment hit him. Why hadn't he thought of that before? He reached for the staw and soon realized exactly why he hadn't. As he tried to pick up the straw, he left a gouge in the table as he fumbled to get his claws around the tiny thing. His paws were too clumsy for any type of fine manipulation, leaving him doing little more then batting the straw across the table, while leaving scratches in his wake where his sharp claws dug in. Eventually he managed to get it into his hand, though it was immediately smushed and bent out of shape by the way he manhandled it. He put the sorry looking and mangled straw into his drink, and bit off the tab of paper, wiping it from his mouth. There was no way he would have been able to remove the tab otherwise.

"hrrrrrrr doooooo evveeents liiiike thiiiiiis hrr haaaappeeen offftenn?" he asked Elliot, wondering if there were 'conventions' this this periodically. He was still new to the big city, so had little idea of how often people got together on mass with costumes. He could smell the coffee, it was very intense at this range, so he kept his nose close to his glass, trying to offset it with the fresh scent of his drink.

Oh, right. He should have unwrapped it... and handed it to him. Because claws are big and dangerous, and something he hadn't considered. He didn't think of hands much, as a rule. Having two fingers and a thumb on each hand sort of made it difficult to do the things more dexterous folks could do, but he had adapted. Just as the wolf man would eventually adapt. Maybe by eating steaks with his hands and drinking out of a bowl.

Behind the counter, the girl winced at the scratches. But such was life. It wasn't the first time a table had been scratched by a mutant and it certainly wouldn't be the last. They also had a guy for that. A handyman. He liked to refer to scratches like these as job security. She had a feeling he was right.

"Not as often as they used to. They tour now, more than they play in parks and on city streets. Ever since the group changed its line up and got more popular. Such is the price of fame." He shrugged. Then he added "I know some other groups that do concerts and things like this, though. Heh. I can probably find you a pamphlet or something." He smiled at the thought.

The mocha was great, as always. He drank slowly.

"hrrrr Niiiiice nooot tooo beeee rrrrrrrrreeecooognizeeed," said Tyson, referring to his physical appearance. In all honesty it still upset him that he was stuck like this, even if he could be accepted by some. It was more to do with no longer recognizing himself, he looked in the mirror and saw a monster, not himself. He had thought it would get better, but honestly as things had gone on he found it harder and harder. He sipped at the straw, trying to keep the liquid at the back of his throat so it didn't spill out of his jaw. "hhrrr ahhhh paaamphleeet wooould be gooood." he said, thinking he would try to attend some of the events, it would at least help him get used to the overwhelming scents of a crowd faster, and perhaps Elliot would be there, he seemed like an okay guy.

"hrrrr yooou liiive innn the ciiiity?" he asked, shifting the conversation to Elliot. He wondered how that worked out if he did. He couldn't imagine himself living in the city looking as he did, but Elliot seemed not to have a problem with it. How he managed to do that he thought took a lot of skill and bravery. Of course he may also have some sort of ability that made messing with him a bad idea, since he was a mutant. He knew from his time at the institute that there was really no way to tell what a person could do when it came to mutation, while his was strait forward, others could look strange and be able to blast holes through walls, so what Elliot could do was a complete mystery.

>>"hrrrr Niiiiice nooot tooo beeee rrrrrrrrreeecooognizeeed," said Tyson.

Elliott nodded. "I hear that." 'Course, he heard it for vastly different reasons mostly, but empathizing was empathizing.

"I'll find you one." He smiled at the pamphlet comment.

"Do I live in the city? Yeah. I'm kind of new in town. I found a decent place." Slummy, but decent. "You?"

(( Sorry it's short. I got pulled away.))

Tyson felt a bit reassured by Elliot's agreement. Nothing like shared misery to make you feel closer to someone. He was sure that Elliot had experienced his fair share of hardships for this own appearance. He seemed to have taken it in stride, or else he was just used to it to the point where he could ignore it. He sort of wished he could be like that, but everyone he had met so far had manifested their abilities some years ago, so were thoroughly adjusted to whatever they developed. He had only recently been thrust into this, and having to relearn basic skills at his age was a lot more difficult.

When Elliot said he had recently moved into the city, he couldn't help but feel some concern. His experiences in the city had not been all that great, limited though they were, the fact that it had ended in bloodshed made it so he couldn't help but feel the city was a dangerous place for someone like him. "Hrrrrr staaaying aaat theee instiiituuute," he said. He couldn't really call it home, nor that he was living there since his life was a bit over at the moment. He was surviving there at the moment, trying to come to terms with himself, trying to take each day one at a time. Honestly it wasn't working too well, he had managed to assault the faculty and essentially terrify the student body. Hard to feel any better when everyone was scared of you for good reason.

"The institute, huh?" He said. His tone was aloof, casual, hiding his true thoughts. Which, quite frankly, hadn't had much time to develop, had they? What did Elliott think about the institute? "I met someone from there," he commented. He was still piecing together his institute opinion. "Nice guy. Caught a pickpocket that ran into me. Gave me a card for that place. The guy was a cop. Sam, I think his name was?"

The guy had been helpful enough. But he was a cop. Elliott didn't much care for cops. Then, there was the whole incident with the motorcycle and the pink-haired shirtless guy. He still didn't know how he felt about that whole thing. It was almost an ongoing thread in his mind. It had given him a lot to think about. One thing he was sure of from all that thinking was... the mansion most likely wasn't the sort of place he planned on staying, unless his back was against the wall. Or if some valid reason popped up.

Wolf was staying at the mansion. That was fine for him. He probably wasn't the type to worry about cops. He probably wasn't the type to get into trouble with the law. There wasn't a certainty about either of those thoughts. Maybe a big wolf man wasn't a gentle giant. Or maybe he hadn't chosen a path. Regardless, Elliott kept a neutral face and waited for Tyson's response.