Bailey looked towards the sky and grinned. Today was going to be a good day. He had spent most of his morning asleep, and he had barely gotten up before noon. It was one of those rare weekend days where he wasn't scheduled to work and he didn't have anything planned, so he could do as he pleased with his time.

And what he chose to do was nothing. The seventeen year old sat on a bench in Central Park, watching as people passed by. Everyone had somewhere important to go, someone to see, something to do. Not Bailey, though. That, he was adamant about.

Nope, he was going to sit by himself and let the day pass before him, and he was going to quietly enjoy the luxury of silence. It was something that often eluded him, and he had to cling to it when it was available.

He had his eyes closed when the stranger sat down next to him. He didn't really mind that they did, but it was a bit startling to open his eyes to a new face. He blinked at the stranger and extended his hand, always up for meeting new people. His previous goal of nothingness seemed to have been pushed to the back of his mind.

"Hey," he grinned at the stranger, completely ignoring the fact that one, they probably didn't want to talk to him, and two, it wasn't exactly safe to talk to random people in New York City. With an undying optimism, he continued, "I'm Bailey."

Hot.

It hadn't been hot when he'd set out. It wasn't like he'd really had much of a choice anyway: there were things he needed to buy, things he needed to replace that were too individual for the mansion to provide even if it happily funded everything, and those places were out in the city with limited open hours.

Plus he couldn't wait long enough on some of it to just buy it online. Online shopping had been pretty awesome before his impromptu hiatus from the world. Now? Now it pretty much blew his computer-raised mind sometimes. But he needed some of this stuff today.

Like clothes that weren't out of the mansion's cycling gently used supply. He was an X-Man, if a trainee, and not a student anymore, so it wasn't appropriate to use up that supply. Even if the money came from the same fund. Because... logic? No one ever knew exactly when new desperate kids would show up on the doorstep in rags (or horrifyingly less) and need clothes, though, so a physical supply was needed at all times and in all sizes.

So he had to go shopping. And try at least some on because he apparently needed a bigger shirt size now. Which was a pain. And awkward.

And now it was really hot, and he felt like he was melting (and considering his mutation, that was kind of too accurate and very very concerning), and the two bags of clothing he'd managed to collect were managing to drag his arms down. He'd made it to the park, though, with all of its shade and greenery. Trees made things less hot. He should sit down under one.

All of the benches were occupied. And the grass was pretty full too.

Why...

He really needed to sit down for a bit, though, so when he finally came across a bench that was only... half? occupied? Aiden did his best to swallow his misery and sank down beside the hopefully-maybe asleep kid.

Sitting down felt so good...

Nope nope nope kid was not asleep, sitting down wasn't so good any more but his legs were definitely rebelling at his body temperature and refusing to behave properly so he was stuck here.

Um.

Why is socializing a thing?

"Um, hi," he stammered, fiddling with his sunglasses to make sure they were in place, both to hide his face a bit and in case this guy had issues with mutant eyes. "Uh, nice to meet you I guess? I. Er, I'm Aiden."

Compared to other people, complete failure. Compared to Aiden's personal record, one of the best introductions he'd had.

Bailey grinned at the guy next to him as he fumbled with his sunglasses. It was understandable to want them on his face, especially given that it was a very sunny day, but he still seemed a little attached to them. Then again, it may have been a move of comfort in the extreme awkwardness that Bailey had created.

The stammering didn't exactly deter the notion that he seemed a little uncomfortable. He barely got a greeting out, and then stammered again before his name. Very unusual for a New Yorker. Maybe he was a tourist?

Bailey simply ignored the fact that he was making the guy, who he could now call Aiden, and therefore was not a stranger, feel uncomfortable. Instead, he simply continued on the same way he had before. Pleasant introductions.

"Heya, Aiden," he greeted casually, as if meeting him in the park was a daily occurrence. "Nice to meet you. What brings you to this particular bench in this particular park on this particular day?" Maybe he was testing out his sunglasses. Bailey made a note to ask him about those later.

Okay, okay. He felt like he was cooling down now, so he just had to put up with the social weirdness for a bit and he'd be okay. No heat stroke today. Not out in the city, where no one knew to just throw him in a freezer basically. Or let Sam experiment with how long he could get the temperature before Aiden noticed.

Still hadn't found a lower limit to that...

Aiden took a careful breath and forced his hands to his lap... where they proceeded to fiddle a little bit with the handles of the bags half-crushed between his legs where no one could swipe them. Not after all he'd gone through to get them.

Socializing. Right.

"I, uh, I just needed a break. I don't do well with heat. And, er, this was the only spot I could find. Sorry."

This guy didn't seem to be upset in the slightest about sharing the space, but then again this was Aiden trying to read a stranger's emotional state. Not exactly a high accuracy rating to that skill.

"S'okay," Bailey shrugged and sat back against the park bench. He had no claim on the place, and he didn't want Aiden to think that he didn't have a right to sit there. Besides, he liked to talk with people.

Aiden was shifting in his seat. There were bags at his feet, so Bailey figured that he probably just went shopping or something. Or maybe he was one of those homeless guys that carried bags around with them everywhere they went. He figured it probably wouldn't be a good idea to touch them if he was as possessive with them as he was with his sunglasses.

He started to whistle a song he couldn't place as he enjoyed the peace of sitting in the park. It was such a nice day, not too hot, not too cold. He didn't really know why Aiden thought it was so hot, but he did not feel the same way.

"Where are you from, Aiden?" Bailey asked casually, keeping the conversation going. With four brothers and social parents, the scene just came naturally to him. Why shouldn't he keep talking to the guy he had just met and already made uncomfortable twice?

Okay, so this guy wasn't bothered. That was good. It wasn't nearly so hot here. It was actually starting to just seem like pleasantly warm, which was a balance he hadn't come across in... years. Definitely years. Possibly most of his life, from what he could recall on the spot. Not that he'd always been heat sensitive, but. Well.

He shouldn't keep calling this guy 'this guy' in his head. He'd given his name. Aiden had heard it. It was... er... Bailey! That was it. This guy was Bailey. Shorter than 'this guy' at least.

More chatter. This seemed like standard chatter though, questions Aiden could answer. New York City had people from so many places that asking about origins was a very common thing.

"Carmel. Just a little bit north of the north edge of all this city. I've been here for the past few years though. Well, except for the last... two. I wasn't planning on spending them in Alaska but, uh. Stuff happened."

That was so so so so so much more than he'd planned on saying, why had he said it, that was more than the question needed for an answer why hadn't he shut up like he normally did? Distraction, time for distraction.

"What about you?"

"Never heard of it," Bailey said thoughtfully as he tried to think of ever hearing of a place called 'Carmel'. "I've heard of Alaska, though. Sounds kinda gross and cold. What were you doing there, exactly?"

He had never actually met someone that lived in Alaska. Or had been to Alaska. He always just kind of assumed that it was just a barren snowy wasteland where things went to die. But if there were cities and stuff then he imagined it couldn't be all that bad. Maybe he would even go there sometime if it was actually nice. Maybe he actually would have known some of that stuff if he had actually paid attention in geography class. Instead, he had spent his time doodling in his notebook and playing on his phone under his desk. 

"I'm from Stratford, Ontario," he answered proudly as he thought of the place he still called home. Sure, he lived in New York, but he was really a Canadian at heart.

"Oh- that's in Canada if you didn't know," he added quickly. Every once and a while he came across someone who didn't. "It gets pretty cold there, but probably not as cold as Alaska. Is it too cold for lots of snow there or does it snow lots anyway?"

"There's no reason to have heard of it. Small town with nothing going on." Only reason he'd ever go back was to visit one specific grave, and in all honesty he was still afraid to. Or more afraid. There was suspecting that the people you grew up around thought you were one of the worst monsters to ever walk the planet, and... then there was knowing that they did.

At least he hadn't liked them to begin with. So there was that.

"Alaska is supposed to be cold, but I was only around people who weren't used to it in the summer. They did still complain a bit." Aiden leaned back and tentatively considered trying to relax in the warmth-that-wasn't-hot. Who knew when it might go away? "I was there for... work, I guess. Not that I really get paid for it." He had never had a job, technically speaking, if getting paid was a requirement. If not, then being an X was definitely his job. He certainly approached it seriously enough.

On....tario? Canada? It took Aiden a few moments to connect the name with the kind of closeish chunk of a country he'd never visited. Flown over twice, yes, but a very different part of it. It would have been easier if it weren't a different country, and he wouldn't had to deal with any more airplanes.

Definitely not a fan of airplanes. At least trains you could kind of get up and walk around without people staring at you.

And the tiny planes in Alaska.

Dear God.

Never again, please.

Oh, more questions about Alaska. Uh. "I was in the middle of a bunch of really big mountains, so there was... a lot of snow. Zero way to travel kind of a lot of snow. And a lot of ice."

"That does sound kinda gross to be honest," Bailey pointed out. He liked snow, for sure, but not being able to get anywhere didn't sound all that great. "But I guess it must have been pretty awesome to make snow angels and stuff. Did you get a lot of snow days? Oh wait, you were working, so you didn't go to school. Never mind." Not to mention that Aiden in no way looked like a high school-er. "What work did you do there?"

Bailey fished around in his back pocket for a moment and pulled out a rather squished peanut butter and jelly sandwich protected by a layer of plastic wrap. He hadn't planned on leaving the bench, so he had come prepared. As he unwrapped it, he wiggled his shoulders a bit and sang Peanut Butter Jelly Time in his head. Man, he was excited for that sandwich. He took an excessively large bite as he continued to ramble.

"I like the snow, y'know. Maybe not to the degree of Alaska, but I still like it. Except when I have to shovel it. That's the great thing about New York, though, no driveways. In Stratford my driveway was huge! I would have to shovel it after school, and sometimes I wouldn't even be done 'till supper time. Okay, that was only once, but still."

He took another bite and then looked at the squished sandwich. He was being so rude to Aiden. "Do you want some?" Bailey offered the half-finished sandwich to the man next to him, not quite finished the bite he was chewing. It was just common courtesy to offer the other person some of your food.

Bailey certainly... talked a lot. "Almost all of it was waiting for enough snow to melt for me to leave," Aiden protested, although his tone wasn't very protest-y. "Seriously."

What... sort of work? Of course people would ask that. But did he want to tell this effective stranger that he was with the X-Men, and therefore a mutant?

...

It could be argued that it was part of his job. Public representation and not being ashamed of the team and all that.

Damn it.

"It was a training thing. I'm with the X-Men." Did that sound like he was claiming to be a full X? That wasn't good either. "Just as a trainee still." Did that make it sound like he was useless and this guy could take him out if he wanted?

Well, it would still be a stupid idea. Mutant of unknown ability, with an unknown degree of combat training and experience but definitely not average civilian, and also x-comm. The whole 'team' part wasn't just for show.

Caught up in his forecast worries, Aiden blinked at the offered sandwich for a moment, and then slowly shook his head. "No... thanks."

If Bailey liked snow, would he like snow mutants?

"Oh cool, so you're a mutant, then?" Bailey continued to talk at full speed to Aiden. "I'm a mutant too, y'know. My powers aren't all that cool, though. I just shut off other peoples' powers and stuff. Not super interesting, I know, but it's still enough for me to be a card carrying member of the not-human species. It's kinda weird that they're thinking of starting an entirely mutant nation now, since, we all pretty much look the same and stuff. I mean, most of us do. There are a couple of strange-looking people. I guess they're probably the ones that want their own nation. Like that Jaager guy. I heard he has wings."

He took another bite of his sandwich and paused to chew for a minute. It was just as good as he had hoped. It would go even better with ice cream, though. Maybe he would stop by the store later and get some. That would break his rule of not doing anything, but then again so had talking to Aiden. Maybe he would just break his rule if it was for something really good. 

Aiden didn't want any of his sandwich. That was fine, more for him. He didn't particularly want to share anyway, he was just being nice.

"So what are your powers, then? I bet they're super cool and useful since you're on the X-men and all. Did you say you're a trainee? That's alright, I'm sure you'll be a full member soon. If it works that way, of course. I don't really know how it works. What do your powers do? I mean, you can't show me, since they won't work if you stand around me, but you can explain it. Or just stand a ways back. I think that'll work fine."

...

...

...

...

...

"Wait, is that why I'm not hot?" Aiden stared. At Bailey. He stared at him like he had never stared at anyone before. The oh-cool-you're-a-mutant part skimmed right on past his attention, and he stared.

He shut off powers.

The part of him that was so incredibly tired of always being on the edge of heat stroke was outright jubilant. If his snowdancing were at all mental (and he weren't within Bailey's range, however far that was) there'd be a solid white-out blizzard around them already.

A different part of him was very, very concerned about the safety and security implications of running into unknown people who could wipe out mutant abilities. More for some mutants or situations than others, but his own ability to heal was just that, an ability. It had saved his life before. Could he not rely on it like he'd thought he could? In the limited situations it was active, anyway.

...

Could timely application of a null ability interrupt the trainwreck of exhaustion that so loved to put him into a minicoma after every training session?

"Mutants can still discriminate against other mutants," Aiden said slowly, and rather absently as his brain spun with ideas and concerns. "If not for looking like a mutant, then for usefulness of powers, or religion or culture or whatever." No, separating into a new society based on only one trait wouldn't solve conflict. It would probably just make it harder to deal with.

He gave his head a little shake and drew in a fresh breath. "I make snow. Through movement, not like most of the elemental powers I've come across. And I don't feel cold... but I overheat way before most people instead." And no he was not demonstrating in the middle of damn Central Park. "Snow heals me too, so it does kind of balance out. Sometimes. Not so much in summer down here..."

"Well yeah, I guess if you're normally hot because of your powers," Bailey shrugged. That would make sense, given snow powers. It really wasn't that warm though. Bailey shuddered to think how horrible it must have been for him to experience anything worse. Or maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe he liked being hot. Bailey really didn't know. Probably better to ask than wonder. "Do you like being hot or do you like being cold?"

>>"Mutants can still discriminate against other mutants. If not for looking like a mutant, then for usefulness of powers, or religion or culture or whatever."

"That's stupid," Bailey frowned. "I mean yeah, some powers are better than others, like yours is figuratively and literally cooler than mine, but they're all good for something. Unless someone's power is being not good at anything or useless or something. I guess that might be an exception."

"It heals you? That's awesome," he enthused. The snow dancing and other things were cool, too, but the healing was definitely the coolest. "So, could you, like, get your head chopped off and heal from that, or is there a limit? How often have you tried it out? What's the worst injury it's ever healed you from? Can you heal other people too? I mean, I know you couldn't heal me, but like other people who can't shut off powers. With me not being there."

"My power makes me immune to cold," Aiden explained. He was a little bit hesitant, what with talking about something he was used to keeping private (in addition to being used to keeping everything private) to a nearly complete stranger. "But in exchange, even room temperature is a little much." Firebirds in the same room were infinitely too much.

It was really weird, talking like this. And being near someone who was so casually curious, like there could be no negative repercussions to anything. As if the world was bright and shiny and harmless but not boring.

"I try not to test it," Aiden threw in quickly, but Bailey had run with the idea. That wasn't how it worked! Probably. He'd rather not find out if he could regenerate his head because that would require getting his head cut off. No no no he'd deal with that if it ever came up, and not before, or of his own doing. Nope.

"I've survived a fatal car crash, and I'd rather that stay the record," he continued, voice not quite steady but not exactly faltering. Aiden pushed on past the comment, trying not to leave space for Bailey to latchA onto it as well. "And I don't heal other people, or control it at all really. It's automatic. It snows, I turn white, snow fixes me. And it's not like it's without drawbacks or side effects. It's really far from a perfect ability."

"Huh," Bailey said, visibly deflating. "But if you don't test it then how will you know the limits? If you know the limits then you can do so much more! You could run into a fight that has no escape routes and not worry about the possibility of death! There's so much you could do with immortality!"

"It's still really cool, though, even if you don't use it very much. Which, to be fair, sounds like a lot of work. It makes my power seem sort of lame, though," he frowned. "Well, not entirely lame. I guess it does make you more comfortable."

Bailey took the last bite of his sandwich and scrunched the saran wrap into a little ball. He then aimed it carefully at the trash can and took an overly dramatic shot. It missed, but he still cheered as though he was in a basketball game. 

"Hey, want to go get some ice cream?" He offered suddenly, still incredibly hungry. "I get an employee discount!" Such an incredible thing, employee discounts. They almost made up for working. Almost.