>> "Okay... hair color."

All too eagerly, Chase's hair poofed from its wavy black locks to straight, red, and even longer than before. The shifter child grinned, his hands clasped behind his back. Hair was too easy.

>>"Fine, but no horse play. Remember, poison spines."

Chase groaned, throwing his hands in the air. That was the thing about big people. They talked SO MUCH but they never listened.

"Remember, I don't touch people!" the shifter child mimicked petulantly. You can't horseplay if you never touch anyone. His hair reverted, now that his attention had been drawn elsewhere.

"So, are you gonna tell me your name?" Chase said, as though he'd been inconvenienced by not knowing it this whole time, "Or do I have to make one up for you?"

Of course Chase could just grab Red Man's sleeve and his sleeve would tell Chase Red Man's real name... that was usually the first secret that surfaced.

It was a decent trek back to the Mansion, so by agreeing to see Chase to the infirmary, Red Man was agreeing to a sizable walk. The shifter child swung his arm wildly, relishing the pull of the duct-tape roll at the end of his arm. Oh man, the big kids would be SO JEALOUS over his SUPER-MASSIVE DUCT TAPE ROLL.

"How old are you anyways?" Chase chirped, whether or not that Red Man dignified him with a response to the first question, "Cuz you're at a school, which makes me think you're a student, 'cuz I know all the grown-ups. But you don't listen! And neither do grown ups!"

"In short," the shifter child said, skipping to a stop and turning towards the Red Man, "What are you doing here?"

Leon grumbled something under his breath, he was too tired of this to try correct a kid who had said he disliked touching others, not that he never did. It was obvious by now that Chase played by his own rules and really wasn't the type to try and reason with. At this point he either got the massage or he would be sorry for it later.

"So, are you gonna tell me your name? Or do I have to make one up for you?"

"Leon," said he flatly, doing his best to keep a little distance between him and Chase as the kid swung his arms about. He didn't know what was going through Chases mind, but it was obvious he was getting some immense satisfaction out of a roll of duct tape he held.

"How old are you anyways? Cuz you're at a school, which makes me think you're a student, 'cuz I know all the grown-ups. But you don't listen! And neither do grown ups! In short, what are you doing here?"

"Twenty one," said Leon to the first question, feeling a bit annoyed by the hyperactivity of youth. Chase was accusing him of not listening, as if he had to take everything the kid said seriously when he was clearly playing games. In annoyed him that Chase clearly didn't get that he wasn't the type who played games anymore. That piece of him had died off a long time ago when his life had fallen apart, and the broken pieces were something that could never be put back together again. "And I'm here because it's either this or the streets, and here is a lot safer then out there." It was short and to the point. It didn't get into any of the nitty gritty of his past, how he had poisoned his high school friends who had turned on him, or the protests that followed. It said nothing of losing his home and his life, of struggling to survive alone. Nothing about having to worry about being attacked for how he looked, or being a danger to anyone that got close to him. He doubted Chase would understand any of it, he was obviously having a happy childhood.

>> "Leon."

Chase chuckled a little. Leon. It was funny because the child knew "león" to mean "lion" in Spanish. And Leon looked... well, kind-of lion-y. That would be like naming your child "Doctor" in hopes that they became a doctor. How silly. Knowing that Leon probably wouldn't appreciate Chase's sense of humor, he didn't announce his realization.

>> "Twenty one, and I'm here because it's either this or the streets, and here is a lot safer then out there."

"It is a lot safer here!" the child agreed, nodding sagely. He, too, had spent time of the streets, in the foster system, struggling despite his apparent youth and exuberence. This had, very truly, been the longest he'd stayed anywhere since he'd been taken from his first home, "You don't sleep as well, outside. It's too cold and sometimes people try to take your things. That's always the hard part. Thankfully I'm really good at climbing so I'd usually sleep on fire escapes or in trees."

Chase was very forthright about his own path to Xaviers. "Before Mama found me I was in a lot of different homes, but they didn't like me so I kept leaving. But I have Mama now so that's been pretty great."

The child hummed to himself, before explaining, "I'm twelve. I go to school here. That's how Mama found me, they put me in a mutant home because I kept running away from the human ones."

Leon was a bit surprised when Chase described his time on the street. Given his excitable and carefree behavior, imagining him in the same position as Leon seemed impossible. How Chase could so easily smile after that was a mystery to him. Then again, Chase could look however he liked. And he didn't poison people. And maybe a kid was more easily forgiven, not a creature like him. Maybe that was the reason. He wouldn't have found that being what he was.

Leon could barely remember his mother, or his father for that matter. He hadn't thought about them much. It was too painful and depressing, having run away and never looking back, it hurt for many reasons, he hurt them by being what he was, it hurt thinking of the way they looked at him when he first changed, it hurt thinking about how they fought because of him. Chase was lucky he was taken in at a young age, and had people who could deal with his being a mutant. He nodded as he listened, a subtile change in his facial feature may have shown a slight softening towards Chase, though it was unlikely he would admit it if asked.

Chase marched steadily onward, thinking little of what he said (and honestly, thinking little at all). Leon was silent, so the child turned to check-on his friend, walking backwards before coming to a halt. The gears were turning in his head, you could see it in the look that Chase leveled the red mutant with. At least he'd stopped being a grump, but the quiet Leon was, in its own way, a little disconcerting.

"How old were you when you started living outside? Were you a grown-up?" the shifter child inquired, tilting his chin at his red companion, "Where did you sleep?"

He imagined that Leon wasn't as good at climbing trees as Chase was. Even if he could climb trees, Leon was too big to sleep in a tree. One of the perks of being a little person, Chase supposed.

"Man, I bet no one tried to mess with you," the child said enviously, continuing to walk as he talked. Whether or not Leon would answer him, Chase would keep talking, "People kept taking my things, so I had to pretend to be someone bigger, but I can only pretend for so long before I get pass out."

"But! If I was as big as you, I bet no one would take my things!" he praised the red mutant, "They'd go, 'Hey look, a backpack!' and I'd say, 'Hey, stay away from my backpack!' and they'd leave it alone because I said so."

It was so obvious! No one would mess with someone as big as Leon, because he was big and tough and not at all because he was a seven-foot behemoth of a mutant. Nope. Just big.

Chase definitely talked a lot, and asked far too many questions, breaking off into his own little monologues. He supposed others found it endearing, but he thought of what he should say. His past was quite painful to think about. But Chase seemed to jump from one thing to another so fast, he thought maybe he would forget just as fast.

"I was fifteen," he started, his tone sober, "I played football in highschool when... Things changed. It was during a game, and people got hurt." His eyes seemed a little glassy, trying to hold back the worst of the pain. "Everything fell apart after that, nobody wanted a monster around, so I left." If only it had been that simple, his parents hadn't disowned him, but he could tell from their words and actions that they didn't know how to handle him, that they were afraid of him. And everyone else, the team, the friends he thought he had, had rejected him.

"I hate to break it too you, but people don't leave you alone just because you're big." He said, "More often it just makes you a bigger target." If he had any type of wisdom to bestow on Chase, that was likely it.

Leon recounted his brief history as a mutant.

>> "I was fifteen. I played football in high school, when... things changed. It was during a game. People got hurt. Everything fell apart after that, nobody wanted a monster around. So I left."

It was a story that Chase had heard time and time again. At least, from mutants that wanted to talk about it. Most people never wanted to talk about it.

"You should try talking to some of the big kids," the shifter child suggested. This was the "My Momma's a Counselor" showing through. Yes, he did have the audacity to give a twenty-something life advice, "Since I'm only twelve, I haven't had the same experiences as everyone else... but there's a lot of big kids... teenagers, I mean, who've had stuff happen like you did. It would probably be nice to talk to people who have been through the same thing."

The kid pushed his hair back. They were reaching the Mansion, now.

>> "I hate to break it to you, but people don't leave you alone just because you're ig. More often it makes you a bigger target."

The child nodded. That was a good wisdom. He opened the door, and held it open, gesturing for Leon to go on ahead.

"If you don't want to talk to the teenagers," Chase explained, remembering that Leon hadn't even wanted to talk to him, really, "You could also talk to my mom. She's the counselor. She's literally paid to listen. But, like, she actually cares, too."

Leon gave a short self depravating laugh. He was more then aware of the view point of what seemed to be most of the mansions residents. Completely accepting. Open minded, proud of what they were. Thus far he hadn't seen anyone in his situation. He didn't just look like a monster, he was legitimately dangerous to be around. Even if someone wasn't touching him, the quills that he shed were still poisonous. The whole 'accept who you are' message he kept getting didn't help when all he did was bring pain to others. Like telling someone with a deadly infectious disease to be proud of themselves for spreading it around. Chase wouldn't understand, his problems at this point revolved around is peers. Leon had to deal with the fact that he would forever live in fear of killing someone just by nature of existing.

He walked inside, his paws falling silent on the floor. Chase mentioned the councilor, his mother apparently. "I don't think she can fix what is wrong with me," he said pessimistically. Sure, he could talk to a councilor, but what could she say that would make a difference? Words would not dry up his poison or make his spines disappear . All she would say was the same things he had heard from others about accepting himself. It was a useless endeavor. Regardless of Chase's good intentions, Leon's problems were not as simple as feeling good about himself, because how could anyone feel good about hurting others without being even more of a monster then he already was.

The man laughed at Chase's recommendation, which earned an indignant puff of the cheeks and a wash of confusion. He didn't say nobody wanted him around because he was deadly-- he said no one wanted him around because "he was a monster". And there were plenty of monstrous people around Xavier's. So, in Chase's mind, what Leon needed most was a friend. So he suggested how to get a friend. And now, Leon was laughing at him.

"It's not funny, I'm trying to help!" the child said, with the usual ammount of childlike frustration.

>> "I don't think she could fix what is wrong with me."

"Maybe not," Chase said, unconvinced. He left it at that. He was just trying to help, and this man was being a big fat jerk-face. Chase didn't realize that it was a matter of "My mutation could literally kill people" and not a matter of "I'm kind of a jerk so no one wants to be my friend". Neither of which, in the twelve year old's mind, were entirely inaccurate.

They reached the DocProf's office, and the shifter child turned to Leon.

"Well... thanks..." the kid sighed, "...for talking to me, that is."

He pushed open the door, assuming that (with the deed done) the red man was probably going to ditch him.

"You should, uh, try and talk to my Mom," Chase said, "She's Adapted. Makes me unshift. So maybe she can help you. Everyone calls her Mama T."

Chase was still under the impression that Leon didn't like him, so he really didn't see the red man sticking around to make sure Chase actually got the medical treatment.

Leon gave a sigh of exasperation, "Not all laughter means funny, sometimes it's all you can do when you have no options," he said, seeing that Chase was completely missing that that fact that he was laughing at how hopeless his situation was. "Maybe you'll understand when your older." he said, turning to let Chase see the doctor. He was a good kid, he'd admit that much, and that was why it was best if he didn't hang out with someone like Leon. Good people deserved good friends, not ones that could kill them by accident. He didn't let people get close to him emotionally, though Chase had managed to relate to him somewhat, but as with everyone else Leon had to push them away to keep them safe from him. It was better that he be alone.

When Chase mentioned his Mom being an adapted, the meaning was lost on Leon. He hadn't heard about them, so he assumed Chase just meant another mutant. "Maybe, who knows," he said, though he already knew he wasn't going to. There wasn't anything anyone could do for him. Chase could get his wounds looked at, but Leon's couldn't be healed by anyone. They had already festered into self loathing, and any hope he had once had was long dead and buried.