With his out so close to hand, it wasn't really surprising how quickly Adder melted through the city. His stomach had real food in it and it would have kept him warm even if his pace didn't. He moved without concern for anyone else, neither trying to keep someone with him nor lose anyone tailing him.

He simply ran, sometimes on two feet, sometimes on four, drifting in and out as worked for the situation.  It had a fluidity he rarely found; he usually had too much focus, or too little, or he cared too much about his surroundings.  Now that he was simply going from one place to another, with the unelaborate goal of getting there quickly, many of the things that got in the way fell away.

The neighbourhood around him gradually changed.  Less graffiti, more space.  Cleaner windows, fewer worn out for-rent signs.  Different smells, different sorts of shops.  Adder used it all to navigate, especially the scents, but his only other form of reaction to his location was when he moved smoothly around an obstacle.

He didn't have a plan.  Not beyond arriving, at any rate.  And that was what caught him up, when he slowed from a slow lope that ate miles like a sigh.  His previous explorations of the back edges of this property confirmed that this was the right place.  This was where he was going.  This was his goal.

So why couldn't he walk any closer?

He bumped his shoulder against the low wall of a neighbouring property, turning away and failing to even try to make the change in direction look intentional.  He pressed the side of his hand against the stone and tried to make the roughness distract him from his irrational, indescribable, unexpected apprehensions.

Cafas had finished eating at his own pace, finished his drink, checked his phone, wandered slowly to his bike, drinking in the day. He figured he had plenty of time. How fast could a person on foot get to the Mansion, really?

He rode lazily, weaving through traffic for fun. It was irresponsible, sure, but he picked his moments wisely enough. As the traffic let up, Cafas began watching the scenery as he rode. The people he passed, the houses and businesses. It was quite relaxing, really, not having to be somewhere in any sort of rush.

I gotta do this more often.

It was this lazy riding that had him pulling up a little short of the Mansion, half impressed, half confused. The bike rumbled to a halt beside the road and Caas flipped up the visor on his helmet to double check his eyes weren't lying to him. Nope, that was the kid. He swung his leg over the bike and sat on it sideways, probably putting a bit much pressure on the kickstand.

"Well, I didn't expect you to beat me here. What's wrong? Waiting for me?" Cafas flashed a grin, half lost in the helmet. He didn't believe that for a second, but he didn't want the situation to seem too tense.

Be real helpful if I could read people right now...

Adder was on the edge of making himself step onto the mansion's property when his ears flattened in alarm.

Momentary alarm, but alarm nonetheless. Almost all of the route he'd taken to get here was illegal for motorcycles to take, and a significant part of it was downright impossible for a normal bike to take, much less something with so much metal and engine.

That the rider was the guy he'd been talking to, Cafas or whatever - Adder didn't bother much with names, not really, but to hear a name wrong was an affront to his ears - wasn't something Adder bothered to question. He could smell around the wreathes and streaks of exhaust and hot metal. He was also fairly close to coughing from the fumes, and figured it would soon turn into a headache as things stood, so he moved a little more upwind.

That move did put him closer to the mansion entrance, but he didn't realize it until he had already started moving and appearances demanded that he not counter himself. He held his ground, but his ears tightened back in discomfort. Being so close, and so much more out of place here than when he prodded around the backside, was its own kind of stressful.

"Nothing's wrong," he muttered, barely managing to turn a verbal snap into a grumble under his breath. Backing off here left him vulnerable... but literal walls were easier to scale.

At least he wasn't pacing. Yet. Even if his fingertips twitched in his pockets, and his bare toes flexed against the concrete and begged to run again.

Ooh, right, teenager. He couldn't possibly just make things easy for everyone. It was obvious he was going in. If he'd just admit it and stop being combative, they'd have the paper work done and filed within an hour. Then he'd never have to put up with Cafas again if he didn't want to, because he'd have a room to avoid him by staying in.

Sounds like Persi.

Even Cafas could tell the kid was uncomfortable. He might not know much about people, but he could spot a runner. That was just X-man instincts. The kid wanted to run. Cafas, for the life of him, couldn't figure out why. He hadn't done anything threatening that he could think of, and he was pretty good at being threatening when he needed to be.

Who knows, maybe he's just a flighty type.

"Nothing? Alright, good. Want a lift? It's a bit pointless, but it makes for a cooler entrance. Personal opinion." He'd even moved closer to the gate, even if that was simply to put distance between himself and Cafas. Or maybe it was to do with the whole upwind thing. His ears might not be his only mutated sensory system.

Cafas' patience made staying still a little easier, even if the immense looming presence at his back didn't so much as blink. It was there, and he'd thought he could find shelter there, protection from things beyond his ability to reliably fend off, but he'd never been quite so aware of how little he fit it, how little he belonged.

He'd felt it before, going into wealthy places, but he'd always had the confidence of a thief. He'd known it wasn't his place, and that he'd be leaving again, and that he was, in a sense, attacking it.

He didn't have that here, he hadn't done this before, he didn't know what choices and actions were safe and what would mess things up and put him at risk -

Adder took one look at Cafas and the bike and went a little bit green at the thought of being that close to the cloud of exhaust. "I don't want a cool entrance," he muttered softly, turning his head away slightly and trying to make himself look down the road. He didn't do showy entrances. He did shadowed entrances, quietly in and quietly out, skirting around the edges of the world.

He didn't do... any of this stuff.

"I don't want a cool entrance,"

Cafas shrugged and smiled. That seemed to fit with the rest of the image. Whether a thief or just an introvert wasn't really of much concern to Cafas. As long as he didn't steal anything after getting to the Mansion, that it wasn't his problem. If he had, sure he could likely do with making amends, but that was just Cafas making assumptions.

He may well not be a thief. That was your life, doesn't have to be his.

"Suit yourself. I'll meet you in there." He slid his visor back down, remounted, and kicked his bike to life. As he let out the clutch he gave a wave and trundled off like a bottled thunderstorm. The gate opened, and his tires crunched across the gravel into the garage. A few waves from students and other residents as he went past, the bike and rider recognized by sound alone from the frequency of his visits.

Keys in pocket, helmet hanging off a handlebar, Cafas left the garage and made for the front door to wait. If the kid didn't come in, he'd just have to assume he was literally just being obstinate. To his own detriment, no less. It was no skin off Cafas' nose, but he didn't like the idea of anyone having to live on the streets.

Come on kid, be sensible.

Adder slipped back a few more feet when Cafas restarted his bike and a rush of exhaust threatened to slip between the little faint bits of wind. Sometimes smells got him worse when there was actually food in his stomach. It had happened before. It was happening now.

He backed up even more when the bike rolled past, and though he flattened his ears against the noise he didn't turn his head away. Of course, if he had, then he'd just be sacrificing one ear in favour of the other, and a lopsided noise-headache was worse than an overall headache.

Cafas was drawing so much attention. Was... was it enough for him to make it in without being the focus?

He swallowed and tried to breathe a little easier. It wasn't like he was going to be attacked. Just stared at, and that was entirely survivable. Just stared at.

He slipped through the gate just before it closed too much and tried to pretend he belonged there, trotting across the grounds while every contact between any of his four feet and the ground reminded him that he didn't belong here and didn't fit in here.

And he felt the eyes on him, people staring at the wolf - in passing. He saw them looking back to what they were doing.

His pace quickened a bit, and his tail managed to climb a few millimetres. At the tip. It was still slung very low, defiantly not touching more than the fluffier fur at the backs of his thighs. He would not show his discomfort, he would not, he would not -

Cafas was there, drastically taller up close when Adder was on four feet.

The wolf shifter casually plastered himself behind a large planter of the sort that rich places always seemed to have near doors. The out-of-season flowers in it drowned out everything else he could smell for a moment, and honestly would have made him shift back even if he hadn't been doing that already.

It was somehow harder to contain his sneeze after shifting than before.

The sneeze from behind the planter was odd. Cafas hadn't seen anyone approach; Then again, he wasn't watching too hard. He cast a glance over the pot, looking for signs of further activity. "Huh." He walked down a few steps and peered over around the edge of the planter, half through the flowers.

The sight was just kind of sad. The kid really was trying his best to avoid Cafas, who really didn't understand why. Doing a real poor job of it too. The X-man chuckled quietly to himself before remembering the kid, whatever his name actually was, seemed to have superior senses. "Gesundheit."

He stood with his arms folded, his face amused, leaning against the banister. He had all day, really. He'd just wait for the kid to come to his senses. It really would make it easier on both of them, though admittedly, probably not all together as much fun. He was proving quite silly.

One day I'll run into someone well adjusted and it'll blow my mind.

"You wanna come in and get all checked in? Or would you rather keep avoiding me?" It was hard for Cafas not to laugh at how ridiculous the situation was. He was trying to help a the kid, and for it he got a whole heap of mistrust. It was bizarre.

Adder stood up, rubbing at his nose with the back of his wrist and clearly regretting his choice of shelter. It seemed to have worked, though, since he was now human and Cafas only started talking after he'd sneezed, which he'd done after shifting.

He still didn't make eye contact. He just poked at the base of the planter with his toes. Too heavy to casually knock over and smash the offending flowers.

"I'm not avoiding you," he muttered, still looking away. He was avoiding everyone. There was quite a difference, and he had at least enough social skills to notice it when he was doing it. If someone else were? Well, he very well might not care, regardless of whether or not he could tell the difference or notice that they were avoiding him at all. Still, he took half a step up the stairs. If Cafas moved onwards, he'd go up farther.

"Good, that should make this easier," said Cafas, cheerily. He would counter the teenage combative angst with friendliness and patience. That would show him good. In fact, it already seemed to be working. Cafas turned and started back up the stairs, under the impression the kid was following him.

"The offices are just up the stairs. I'll grab you the forms to fill out." He was rather hoping the kid might ease up and relax a bit. It would make the process smoother. Filling out paperwork wasn't exactly relaxing though. Well, maybe for Danica.

Actually...

"Ehr, I actually didn't think to ask, but you can write, yeah? Might seem like a dumb question, but some of the mutants that live here were kicked out of home before they were eight. Early bloomers, so to speak." Early bloomers without a chance to master some of the most important tools for continuing their education. It generally wasn't as bad when they came straight to the Mansion. It was the ones that lived for years on the street before getting there that it troubled most.

So.

Out.

Of.

Place.

He felt like he should be setting off security alarms just by being there. He waited for them to start, skin burning with restless anticipation, but nothing came. Nothing happened.

Except questions. What was with questions anyway? Couldn't people just not talk. Or not exist. That would be nice for a while. Adder wasn't going to admit up front that he knew he'd get lonely and bored eventually.

Really, though. Some questions deserved every huff they got, like this one. "I didn't get kicked out," he retorted. Although he was definitely an early bloomer. "And I know how to write." Mostly. He was way better at reading. Writing he really had to take one letter at time.

And he didn't do it much, and he was never completely sure how to hold a pen the way other people did. Staring only taught so much.

Cafas paused in his stride momentarily to look at Adder. The young mutant seemed a little prickly about it, which suggested there might be more to one of those topics than was being said. That was the best Cafas was liable to do. "Okay, good." Cafas resumed his path toward the offices, "Means you can handle your own paperwork." He slipped through the door and made for the filing cabinets. "Save you having to put voice to all your answers so publicly." Cafas waved a hand noncommittally at the array of staff milling around doing their own work or chatting.

There it is...

The X-man pulled a fresh stack of forms from the cabinet, wincing as his knuckle picked up a paper cut. "Damn it." Cafas muttered under his breath as he retrieved a pen and a clipboard for the boy to lean on. They were casually handed to him, leaving Cafas' hands free to fidget with the cut, squeezing it to force it to bleed.

Bulletproof, but paper? That can cut me...

It wasn't that it hurt. It was just an irritation. Compared to the pain he regularly put himself through it was nothing. He just hated paper cuts. Glass he could stand, it seemed like it was something that should be able to cut him, but paper? It made him feel far too fragile.

"It's all pretty basic stuff, name, date of birth, mutation description, that sort of thing. There's a section for previous residency and family, but you can ignore that if you like, that's really for those students that still lived at home." Which he obviously didn't. Cafas looked up from the pathetic non-injury and waited to see if the kid had any questions.

Adder balked at the doorway. Crowds in open air were one thing. He could handle that. Crowds in a room? In one single, confined space?

There was just too much going on, but he had decided to go through with this. He didn't see a space to back out that didn't close this place off from him, and he needed it to be a shield.

He resolutely stepped into the office, ears pinned to his head and nostrils very stubbornly not flaring. He could smell everyone in here well enough as it was. He didn't want to smell them more. He wanted air that wasn't crammed full of people he didn't know, doing things he didn't know, in a place that screamed wrongness at him so very, very much.

Fortunately for him, the form immediately consumed all of his spare attention and left no space for other stressing. He tucked himself as much out of the way as he could, putting his back firmly against a wall for instinctive protection, and carefully set himself to reading it. He didn't mouth out the sounds, though his lips did twitch as he sounded everything out in his head.

Reading. Ugh. And way more than was on a street sign.

Okay, so that was what they were asking for. Adder fumbled with the pen a bit to get a sturdy grip that vaguely resembled how other people held them, and methodically began carving out his answers one line at a time.

Adder.

November 19997.

A very scratched out start, followed by Wolf.

When he was finished, a considerable length of time later, he held the clipboard and paper (torn in more than a few spots from the force of his 'writing' and scribbling-out) to Cafas and went back to eying the other people in the room warily.

Cafas watched with concerned interest as the wolf-kid did his level best to strangle a pen. It would appear he was not comfortable writing. All the prideful lies in the world couldn't hide the truth when the theory became practice.

The X-man accepted the form back, taking a glance over it. He'd be making a copy, it would seem. The combination of writing and rips wasn't making it easy to read. He frowned at the name for a moment before it stuck in his head properly. "Adder. Well, that'll make addressing you easier." Cafas took a glance over the rest, noted the age, and made a note to himself at the bottom of the sheet.

sound proofing. God knows Calley wished he had some.

The pad was dropped on a desk to be a problem for later. He turned his attention back to Adder, a smile on his lips. "Okay, that'll do for paper work." Cafas reached into a drawer to retrieve a random room key. It didn't seem like it would matter for now who, if anyone, Adder was with. The metal manipulator held the key out to the wolf-boy.

"This'll be your room, meals are usually around eight, one, and six, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner respectively. There'll be food in the kitchen at any time though, so feel free to cook for yourself. If you're interested in classes feel free to come back here and speak to someone, they can get you sorted. I imagine you'll want to settle in first."

Adder huffed. Didn't want him to know his name but stupid paperwork and rules.

and then he just stared. A key?

Cafas was giving him a key?

He slowly took it, pressing the edges of the little metal thing into his palm. A key. To a room. A room he could lock.

FOOD okay Cafas had his attention again. All of it, less the sliver that made sure the key was very securely tucked into the most intact of his jeans' pockets. He brushed off the mention of classes completely, but food. Regularly to constantly available food.

Wait.

"Where is this room?" The kitchen he could sniff out; he didn't know what the room this key controlled smelled like.