>>”Yes, let’s! I’m ready to see what I’ve gotten myself into.”

Jorge had to laugh at his niece’s enthusiasm. It was strange, this was a something that he was more than used to and yet it almost felt like he would be seeing New York for the first time again. He had moved here years ago, made a life for himself, paved the way for his future, even died here, and still it was something that was beautiful about it. For all the crap and terrible things that can happen, it had its own beauty that only denizens of this metropolis could appreciate. And there was something endearing about the fact that Marisol would soon be part of those numbers.

As they left the parking lot and moved onto the street, the crowds of the airport seemed to follow them, but it was all familiar to the detective. He knew the flow of traffic by now, was familiar with it. Actually it was very similar to the daytime traffic one can experience traveling from Los Angeles to Long Beach, a drive he had done a few times before whenever he would come to visit his sister and niece. Now that they were in New York, it was different...and yet the same.

Moving down the road, Jorge glanced over to his niece as she stared out the window with under amazement. The towering buildings of the city were going to be decidedly different than Long Beach. The coastal city had a few buildings, most towering retirement villas or offices, but nothing in the sheer number that New York had. Truly it was something to behold.

>> ”I don’t think I realized the big city was really so… big. Really reminds me I’m just one in eight million,”

Marisol’s voice broke the silence as she commented on how large the city was. It did have the effect of making one feel particularly small; it was daunting. Jorge just smirked a little. ”One in eight million maybe…” he said. ”...but one of the exclusive I care deeply about.” He smirked. He kept his eyes on the road. ”The city is big, busy, but you’ll start finding your way around. Honestly my first day here I got lost just trying to read the subway maps. But I’ll do what I can. Plus, Gemma definitely knows her way around as well so you won’t get too lost. Pretty soon, you’ll be too busy living your life to feel small in any way.”

He grinned as he glanced at her. She was young and she still had a lot of the world to experience. She was used to seeing open skies and hearing the sounds of the ocean waves crashing on the beaches. But this, ho, this was going to be so very different. It was scary, but Jorge knew that it would be exciting for her to. He just wanted her to know that, no matter what, she would always have people she could trust in this city. At least she wasn’t here alone.

”Why don’t you tell me about your school?” he asked. ”Which classes are you taking? Do you have roommates? How much class are you planning to not ditch in any way because your uncle will haul you right back into the classroom and sit with you all day?”

Marisol was so focused on her own goals and aspirations, sometimes it was hard to see the big picture outside of herself. Driving through New York, she could see a clear reminder that the world was bigger than one actress’s aspirations. She wanted to make her mark, but it was daunting to strive for a goal like that when she was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

The introspection was cut short by Jorge, who helped Marisol shrink her world back down. Yes, she was in one of the biggest cities in the world surrounded by people who were living out their own stories and dreams, but that did not take away from who she was. Marisol had her own story that would become part of the living, breathing entity that was New York. She was going to focus on her dreams like she did in Los Angeles, and just like on the West Coast, she had the support of family in the form of Jorge and his fiancée. ”Okay, but remember this conversation when I’m calling to ask you where to go on the B Train, or a Six Train, or whatever.” Learning the subways was going to be its own unique challenge.

Jorge already did a lot to ease Marisol’s tension, but she really felt her enthusiasm returning when he started asking her about school. It was the reason she moved and she was thrilled about the opportunities she would get to explore. She rolled her eyes at his last comment, but ran down the list in order to the best of her ability. ”Let’s see. I have a mix of dance, acting, and singing classes. I’m interested in ‘Body Language, Facial Expressions, and Other Non-Verbal Acting.’ Reagan says good things about the teacher. Oh, and Reagan will be my roommate. She’s a senior and she’s focused on dance.” It was common for people to pick one area of focus, but Marisol was still convinced she could keep acting and dancing on her plate and survive.

”And for the record, Tío, I have yet to ditch a class. It’s been ten years now. I don’t think you have to worry,” she advised, smirking. Marisol was so focused on her classes, she ran more of a risk of showing up to class on a snow day than skipping class.

The sights of the city passing slowly were intriguing and Marisol could not wait to explore the city when she was ready, but the more she thought about the New York Pizza she was on her way to enjoying, it was hard to think of anything but her stomach. ”Is there a ‘best pizza place’ in New York? There seem to be so many; I think we’ve passed three so far.” With each pizzeria they dismissed, the call of her stomach grew.

Of course, hunger was not the only thing Marisol was dealing with. The small plastic cup of ice water she had on the plane was a memory of the past. With all the moving around of her day, Marisol was finding herself surprisingly parched. ”Hey Tío, do you maybe have a bottle of water lying around in this thing?” She could wait until they arrived at the restaurant, but she figured it would be worth a shot to ask.

>>”Okay, but remember this conversation when I’m calling to ask you where to go on the B Train, or a Six Train, or whatever.”

Jorge snorted at his niece’s retort. ”Well that’s just silly. You only get on the B-Line if you’re going to Brooklyn.” He grinned a bit at that. Again, she would figure her way around the city. In the meantime he would offer her as much help as he could muster. He knew what it was like being new to this city and it was fairly daunting, but with enough time, she’ll figure it out.

Of course, joking aside, Jorge actually did want to know about the school his niece would be attending. He did some research on it, including the info that Jayda sent him, but he was interested in Marisol’s perspective. What did she know of the school? Getting her to talk about it should hopefully get her to recenter her feelings from the giant city she would be inhabiting and shrink down to those places that would be important to her. That should allow her to make her world far more manageable.


>>”Let’s see. I have a mix of dance, acting, and singing classes. I’m interested in ‘Body Language, Facial Expressions, and Other Non-Verbal Acting.’ Reagan says good things about the teacher. Oh, and Reagan will be my roommate. She’s a senior and she’s focused on dance. And for the record, Tío, I have yet to ditch a class. It’s been ten years now. I don’t think you have to worry,”

He chuckled as Marisol immediately went into explaining everything about her school. Her roommate, plus all the classes that she would be taking. It was certainly impressive but he sincerely hoped that she wasn’t overdoing her studies. Then again, she was young and whenever you are young, you feel like you can take on the world. She would find her niche, or maybe she would prove that she could do absolutely all of it with perfection. Only the future would tell.

He nodded. ”Sounds like quite the workload,” he laughed. ”Just make sure to take a breather now and again. Don’t go burning yourself out in a single semester.”

His advice came from a place of love. He knew the appeal of trying to find yourself as early on as possible so you could throw all your attention to it. Even he, he went into school preparing for either music or literature and he ended up as a police officer. One can never truly know what the future holds for them until it is right upon their doorstep.


>>”Is there a ‘best pizza place’ in New York? There seem to be so many; I think we’ve passed three so far.”

”That’s for each person to find out,” he said explained. ”Most every single one will claim they are the best but you’ll find the one that works for you.”

As Marisol began to investigate the car, Jorge glanced at her, confused, but made sure to keep his eyes on the road. What on earth was wrong?

>>”Hey Tío, do you maybe have a bottle of water lying around in this thing?”

Oh. Water. That a was actually a good reminder. He thought for a second, remembering that he had a few packs of water in the backseat (his mutation required that he always have some on hand) he nodded. ”Of course, kiddo,” he said. ”Should be a pack of bottles in the back.” He paused. ”At the next stop, fill free to reach back and grab one. I’d get it myself but…can’t reach.” She knew his abilities well enough to know that if he couldn’t reach water, something was off. But all that hinged on if she even knew what she was.

Jorge was not wrong; Marisol’s course load had one extra class than most of her peers filling what could have been her “free period.” She narrowed her class selections down from an impossibly large selection, but in the end, she could not pick one class she was willing to cut for the sake of a break during the day. She was convinced she would be fine; there was a designated “lunch break” during the day, so she would not go hungry. How important was a whole period to relax, refresh, and decompress, anyway? ”I’ll be fine. Mi madre always says I’m made of stronger stuff than everyone else.” Cervantes Strong, her mother used to claim they were; Marisol had a legacy to live up to.

As expected, “New York’s Best Pizza” was hard to nail down when there were hundreds of pizza places vying for the crown. If she asked the question to ten different people on the sidewalks, she would surely get ten different answers, all defended with the same certainty and passion. Not that she would do something crazy like that; Marisol listened to the lessons on not talking to strangers. She agreed to the golden rule not for safety reasons, but because the thought of approaching strangers sounded like a terrifying social prospect.

Another thing Marisol knew she could rely on was the presence of water somewhere in her uncle’s car. Jorge was a mutant her entire life, so she was well aware of the necessity for water in the man’s life and what he could do with the substance. What initially confused her was her uncle’s inability to grab her a water. As she leaned over the center console to grab herself a water, she questioned the situation aloud. ”Can’t reach? But that’s silly, you’re able to…”

Her voice trailed off when it hit her. Jorge would have been able to mentally move a water the back of the car once upon a time, but while his powers had not changed, Marisol had. ”Dios Mio, I totally forgot!” She was wide-eyed, because how could she have been so excited about her move to not bring up something so important? ”So. You may have noticed your powers don’t work. And… that’s way my fault. Tío, I’m something called an adapted.” How did she even begin to explain her innate ability to mute mutant powers?

Then again, if his powers were not working the whole time she was with him, he had to have noticed, which lead to another question. ”Wait, if your powers haven’t been working, how did you not say anything until now?”

He loved his niece but from the sounds of it, she certainly had a lot of ambition in her tiny frame. While he was certain that she would learn her balance, he still wouldn’t have felt like a good uncle if he didn’t at least point out his concerns. Marisol was going to be in his city, after all, and he wanted her to feel like she could do anything -- so long as she would be minding herself. But she had a good head on her shoulders and she would find her balance.

>>”I’ll be fine. Mi madre always says I’m made of stronger stuff than everyone else.”

He chuckled. ”That definitely sounds like your mother,” he nodded.

Jayda had always been about striving and doing for yourself. She technically was a self-made woman, starting her own mechanic shop and running it with utter perfection. The only thing she couldn’t have done by herself was, of course, little Marisol who was sitting next to him. Her father was never spoken of but even then, Jayda had managed to raise her daughter on her own, with sacrifice, blood, sweat, and tears coating everything she did. She dedicated herself to her daughter and made sure to temper her with the knowledge that she could, in fact, do anything.

As they drove on, Marisol asking if there was any water to be had, he pointed out that there was some in the back seat she could reach for once they had come to a stop. He dropped a small hint that he couldn’t reach it since, as she knew him her entire life and (he just so happened to be a mutant his entire life) she knew of his abilities. It would normally be a snap for him but he hinted that something was different. That should at least get the conversation going.

>>”Can’t reach? But that’s silly, you’re able to…”

He smirked. Even without looking at her, he could see the wheels clicking in her head. It seemed that she was beginning to understand.

>> ”Dios Mio, I totally forgot! So. You may have noticed your powers don’t work. And… that’s way my fault. Tío, I’m something called an adapted.”

He nodded. Good. That was at least half of the conversation that he was going to have to explain to her. The fact that she already knew something of it must have meant that she had some idea of what she could do to others. And it showed that she had managed to do some of her own research. He was definitely counting his lucky stars.

”I know,” he replied with a small smile. ”I could tell.”

>> ”Wait, if your powers haven’t been working, how did you not say anything until now?”

”Well, I wanted to see how much you knew about it first,” he started to explain. ”In my experience, not a lot of people know that they are adapteds and even fewer know the term.” He gave her a warm smile. ”I didn’t want to startle you if it was something that you weren’t aware of. But it also means that you have something in common with your future tia.”

Marisol could feel metaphorical egg on her face. Being an adapted was one of those things that only came up around mutants, so the young woman rarely had to think about her own identity until someone else noticed it. She was well-aware of her uncle’s powers, as well as her own, but she never bothered to make the connection that he might like a heads up about his off-switch of a niece. ”That was so dumb, I’m sorry. I had other stuff on my mind, obviously. Sorry, Tío,” she groaned, hanging her head in shame. If she was going to meet mutants, (which was likely, given her uncle’s job at the Xavier’s School,) it was probably proper etiquette to give warning so they had the option to steer clear of her. It felt like a non-issue most of the time due to the rarity of mutants and the rarity of people who troubled themselves to get within six feet of her.

It was a pleasant surprise to find out her uncle had not just knowledge, but intimate experience with adapteds. He knew the term and he was handling her delicately for her benefit. Apparently, Jorge’s fiancée was like Marisol, which prompted a new revelation. ”That’s really cool! I can’t wait to… wait. Gemma. Gemma Taylor.” Her brain was slowly connecting the obvious dots. ”Dios Mio, you’re marrying the Gemma Taylor.”

That was enough of a shock before Marisol moved onto the next, anxiety-driving dot. ”Dios Mio, I’m going to be meeting the Gemma Taylor,” she muttered to herself in disbelief. ”When I figured out what I could do, I scoured Google for information, because I thought I was just a mutant. I found a video where Miss Taylor talked about her power. Wow.” It was still a lot to take in. Marisol had never met another adapted, to her knowledge, and now she was going to meet one of the most notable adapteds in New York. She was in no way mentally prepared for that kind of meeting.

>> ”That was so dumb, I’m sorry. I had other stuff on my mind, obviously. Sorry, Tío,”

”You’re not dumb. We’re good,” he warmly expressed.

Jorge shook his head and have her a small, dismissive wave. Honestly it wasn’t any big deal to him. Well, it was because it meant that his niece was even more special, but her forgetting to tell him wasn’t a big deal. The fact of the matter was that she was dealing with an immense change, mainly already, just being concerned with moving here to New York City, leaving behind the only home she has ever known, there were bound to be some details that she would forget to be upfront about. In the end, at least she wasn’t completely unaware of her situation. That could have made this conversation that much harder.

But, now that she did know, she could also realize that she and Gemma had something in common. He dropped another small hint, about her and her future Tia having a commonplace between the two of them. Honestly he was glad to let her know because that was what Gemma would have wanted. Mutants could speak to other mutants about their new lives, it was only fair that adapteds got to do the same thing. Plus, Gemma would be a great coach, if Marisol needed on, that is.

>>”That’s really cool! I can’t wait to… wait. Gemma. Gemma Taylor...Dios Mio, you’re marrying the Gemma Taylor.”

He smirked. Sh*t. Another fan.

>> ”Dios Mio, I’m going to be meeting the Gemma Taylor...When I figured out what I could do, I scoured Google for information, because I thought I was just a mutant. I found a video where Miss Taylor talked about her power. Wow.”

He knew of Gemma’s involvement with that awful AMA video that she participated in. When he saw it the first time the man couldn’t stop laughing. Gemma, of course, didn’t see all that humor in it, but to Jorge it really was one of the funniest things. However, it also meant that Gemma had received a sort of notoriety amongst the internet community but it had also allowed her to connect with an adapted before. It seemed that Gemma would be getting another fan.

For as adorable as Marisol was, Jorge was actually entertained by the imagined looks that Gemma would give her concerning the infamous AMA video. Priceless.

”Yup, you will definitely be meeting her,” he said with a chuckle. ”Just...you know...be cool.” His words came with a teasing voice, as if insinuating that “being cool” was somehow difficult for the young woman. Rude.

It was only a few more minutes before Jorge found where he needed to go and the small, squat pizza house came into view. The red, neon-outline of a Buddha figure danced, whirling a pizza about his head (in no way sacrilegious), and held the title of “Zen Pizzeria”. Despite the atrocious decoration, Jorge pulled into a spot, barely catching it before another motorist attempted to. Parking the car, Jorge turned to his niece.

”Alright, we’re here,” he announced. ”Get your tastebuds ready to be acclimated to New York City.”

Marisol could be hard on herself when she showcased her inability to socialize correctly. There were reasons why she often shied away from people and conversation; each new encounter was an opportunity to say the wrong thing or sound like an idiot. It was nice of Jorge to let the young woman off the hook she snagged herself on, otherwise she could have been obsessing over her forgetful omission all night.

It was a huge relief knowing she had her uncle’s support, even as an adapted, and that he was marrying someone who knew what it was like to be an adapted who loved mutants. She was not versed on the etiquette of being adapted around mutants, just like she was oblivious to most basic social etiquette. It would be nice to talk to Gemma and get a better idea of how to be around mutants without causing trouble. Jorge was handling her well, but the loss of his abilities only seemed like a mild inconvenience. That would not always be the case, and she had to be aware of that.

Meeting Gemma felt like an even bigger deal than it already was minutes earlier, but she had to remember Gemma was just a person like anyone else. The last thing Marisol wanted to do was meet her and freak out like a total spaz. ”So, I don’t know how to be cool,” she admitted. Her tone was light, because she did not want to come across as serious or concerned. ”I hope you can settle for me not being weird or creepy about it. I think I can do those.”

They finally reached the pizzeria, which looked nothing like what Marisol expected. As they approached, she eyed the neon Buddha curiously, wondering exactly how offensive it would be to an actual Buddhist. ”I think my stomach’s more ready than my tastebuds. I just hope this place is as good as you say and this isn’t just a long setup to call this pizza ‘a religious experience.” Marisol had no father for “dad jokes,” so she wondered if “uncle jokes” were comparable or worse.

Gemma was used to a certain amount of attention. Not only because of her stature and how pretty she was (completely unbiased opinion) but because of her abilities. Many times when she walked into a room, young mutants knew that they were either in trouble or that they needed to watch out lest their powers be deactivated. Really it was a reaction that was driven by fear because a lot of mutants, especially young ones, didn’t know what to do with themselves once their abilities were deactivated.

But there was a point where it got just a little tiresome. Jorge could understand that as he had his own following of admirers that tended to get in the way from time-to-time. That was why he insisted that Marisol at least try to play it cool. It was most said in a joking manner but also as a bit of a reminder that Gemma was just a human being and didn’t need, nor want, to be fawned over.

Marisol seemed to understand his words but there was clearly a small issue that she was having with his advice. He tilted his head towards her one the traffic lulled as she seemed to be contemplating.

>>”So, I don’t know how to be cool...I hope you can settle for me not being weird or creepy about it. I think I can do those.”

The officer chuckled. While it had been some years since he had seen his niece, for whatever reason her statement sounded exactly like her. At least she was honest about it. In the end, he couldn’t exactly admonish her for not playing it cool. Besides, if Gemma were really uncomfortable, he knew the woman had no problem with setting boundaries right off the bat. So he nodded.

”Duly noted,” he said with a grin.

As they pulled up the restuarant that Jorge had been telling her about, he could tell that she was instantly struck by the ostentatious, and possibly sacrilegious decor it sported. Admittedly it was a bit of a head turning, but in New York City, such debasement of religious iconography was as commonplace as a Sundollars on every corner. Honestly, so long as it wasn’t outright racism, most people tended to get away with a lot in this city. He always found that interesting.

Pulling up to a stop, Jorge asked if she was ready to start getting used to New York cuisine. In doing so, he unbuckled his seatbelt and started to climb out of the car -- but not before he caught Marisol’s reply to his comment...

>>”I think my stomach’s more ready than my tastebuds. I just hope this place is as good as you say and this isn’t just a long setup to call this pizza ‘a religious experience.”

Jorge snorted a bit a shook his head. ”Please, I think I’m above those kinds of jokes, Mari,” he scoffed. ”Besides, I have a way better pizza joke. Want to hear it?” Before she could answer, he shook his head. ”Eh, nevermind. It’s pretty cheesy.” He beamed proudly at her, practically hearing the groan before she uttered it. ”I’m sure I can think of one to top it.”

Oh he was in rare form now...

Marisol’s uncle assured her he was better than lame pizza puns before immediately proving he was not better than lame pizza puns. She groaned at his first pun because it was even worse than she was prepared for, but even she had to admit the second one was clever. It took her a second to realize why it was a pun, and when she did, her eyes threatened to roll out of her skull. ”You’re lucky I’m not judging your taste in pizza based on those legendarily bad puns.” Marisol was hungry enough to ignore her uncle’s lame but endearing humor for the sake of free pizza.

---

As her uncle promised, her first New York pizza as a resident New Yorker was delicious. Healthy food could also be delicious food, but there was something special about food that was designed to be unhealthy. The unabashed greasy, cheesy goodness hit a spot smoothies and salads and salmon did not.

They took their time enjoying dinner, but eventually, they were back on the road. Marisol had a big day of class prep to look forward to in the morning, so she had to get to her dorm and set up her new living space so she could relax and get to sleep at a reasonable time. Jorge drove to the school’s campus and parked near the dorms so they could get Marisol’s two suitcases and a carry-on worth of belongings up to her room.

Seeing people her own age walking around alone, in pairs, and in groups reminded her that she was not in some dream and she was not visiting. She was stepping into the next chapter of her life.

The realization was, of course, terrifying. ”Tío, what if this was a mistake? I don’t know anyone here. What if Reagan hates me? What if she’s a mutant and gets upset that I’m adapted? I could have just gotten really lucky with Jenny.” Jenny got used to having human levels of balance around Marisol, so living with an adapted never became a problem for her. Reagan never mentioned being a mutant, but if she was, and her mutation was something she needed to survive, Marisol could be a real hazard to her!

Suddenly, Marisol’s chill and excitement were turning into anxiety and concern again.

Pizza seemed to be rousing success. His amazing joke aside (along with Marisol’s bad taste in what was funny), the both of them had an exquisite meal and, best of all, time to actually enjoy one another’s company. However, it wasn’t long before they had to tear themselves away from the amazing introduction to New York cuisine and return to the matter at hand -- Marisol needed to be taken to her school, her new home. While it was sad to not be able to spend more time together, Jorge knew that they would have years of it ahead of them. With her now going to school here, they would have plenty of opportunities.

The meal paid for and a return to the car, Jorge took them both back onto the road. Since traffic wasn’t bad, he drove Marisol through a more scenic route, pointing out various key attractions and points of interest throughout the city. He even stopped long enough to get her a good map of the subway and transportation system here in the city. While he was well aware of all the bad things that could happen, he couldn’t hover over her every second of every day. She needed to live her life and so long as she was smart (which she was) he knew she would be okay.

It didn’t take long for Jorge to finally make his way to Marisol’s new school and, honestly, he was a little sad to see her go. But it wasn’t as if he were dropping her off at the airport and sending her home already. This was her home and she wasn’t very far from him anymore. He would have to keep reminding himself of that, and did, as he pulled into the parking lot of her school. With a sigh he turned off the engine and turned to give her an encouraging look.

She was contemplative for a moment, looking out over the scene, watching as her fellow classmates milled about, moving onto their next classes or were between rooms and practicing either dance or instruments. Either way, it was an inspiring sight and certainly seemed like a place that was built for his particular niece. She would do well -- even if right now that wasn’t reflected in her face…

>> ”Tío, what if this was a mistake? I don’t know anyone here. What if Reagan hates me? What if she’s a mutant and gets upset that I’m adapted? I could have just gotten really lucky with Jenny.”

He sighed looking at her carefully. He understood where it all was coming from but he also knew that a voice like that had no place in little Mari’s head. So, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her in, gave her a kiss on top of her head and patted her arm. All the care and encouragement he had for his young niece, he tried to put into the words that would come from him next.

”Mari…” he said gently. ”I understand this is scary. I’m scared too. But you won’t know anything until you get out there and try, kiddo. If you don’t, trust me, you’ll regret it the rest of your life.” He smiled as he leaned back, catching her eye. ”Yeah, you won’t know a lot of people but that’s the exciting part. You get to make new friends, learn from people you wouldn’t be able to learn from if you stayed in California, you just have a little stage fright, mija,” He said, running his hand over her hair. ”It’ll pass. Besides...who said you don’t know anyone? You know me. And I will always be here for you.”

Maybe that wasn’t a promise he should have made. Jorge knew how dangerous his life was, his line of work. He had already died, essentially, once and that was hard enough on everyone. But so long as there was breath in his body, he would make sure that he would not leave his little niece in this city all by herself. He would watch out for her as best he could and she would make the right calls; he had faith that she would.

He then grinned as he ruffled the young woman’s hair as one would do a child. ”So get off the merry-go-round, kid.” He shrugged. ”You can’t tell the future and you’re whipping yourself up. And I know you can’t tell the future because you’re an adapted so don’t even try.” He snickered.

Maybe Marisol could get a one-on-one instructor! Theatre apprenticeships needed to come back in style. She could handle interacting with one adult actress. How she would get a world-class actress to take her on as a student, Marisol still was not sure, but she could figure that out later. The key was getting away from a social situation where she was going to be the outsider trying to find her place amongst her already established peers.

Marisol was getting ready to spiral when a strong arm wrapped around her shoulder. Jorge planted a kiss atop her head, and it was like a soft reset. For a few seconds, her racing thoughts came to a halt. It was the support she needed in the moment to stop her from snowballing.

It was a big risk to leave California and seek to make her name in New York. It was the kind of chance she never saw coming, but maybe the unknown was the most important part. Marisol’s inability to interact with her peers socially (and more) had always been a concern for her. A new life with new people in a new place could end up being the thing she needed to grow as an actress and a person.

Marisol was not alone and she was not lost. Jorge would be there for her when things got tough. She was in a new school, but she was there to be on a stage—the one place where she was never lost.

With her minor freak-out stifled, Marisol could focus on her uncle ruffling her hair. Her nose scrunched and she wriggled away, chuckling and fixing her hair. ”Hey, I’m meeting new people. Let my hair make a good first impression!” Something had to, right?

After getting her key and signing waivers at the front desk, Marisol led her uncle to her assigned dorm room. She checked the handle and found the room unlocked. Pushing the door open, Marisol looked at a room with two beds, two desks, two dressers, and two closets. Posters were not yet on the walls, but a fridge, microwave, and television were already set up.

Sitting on one of the beds was a thin blonde girl who was already smiling at her roommate. “Oh good, you’re here!”

Reagan got to her feet and extended a hand once she was close enough to Marisol. The newcomer timidly accepted the hand, waiting to see if Reagan had anything to say about her aura. Instead of commenting on Marisol’s adapted presence, the blonde dancer had bigger priorities. “So, I’ve been waiting to plan decorations until you got here. It’s your room, too, but I have ideas! Excited?”

”Yes?” Marisol was energetic and confused, trying to match Regan’s energy. ”I mean, yes! Sure!” There! She was putting in an effort.

“Awesomesauce!” With her plan in motion, Regan finally acknowledged that they were not alone. “Hello, sir! I’m Reagan Bush. Marisol’s your… niece, right?”

After defending herself against the tousling of her hair, Jorge could see the smallest spark of a smile upon her lips. It made him feel better that she was coming out of her funk, but it wasn’t going to be a permanent solution. She could feel sad, she would get homesick, and she would question her every decision -- he knew this because he had done the same thing when he first came here. It was a definite change of pace but it was a good one, he could feel it in his bones. Eventually Marisol would understand that too.

With a grin on his lips, and a confirmation that she was doing better, the both of them climbed out of the car. Jorge retrieved the young woman’s bag and they descended into the unknown.

Walking through the dorm, Jorge was surrounded on all sides by young people. As an authority figure, he didn’t always have the best interactions with them. Most were resentful of police but there were many more who were respectful and admired what he did; it just so happened that he dealt with a majority of those who were raging against the world; go figure. However, for as uncomfortable as Jorge felt, at least he knew that this was a place that Marisol would fit right in.

It didn’t take them long to find Marisol’s room and, when they did, there was already someone waiting on one of the beds for them. A small, petite blonde who seemed to be in contemplative thought -- until she laid her eyes upon Marisol. Jorge breathed a small sigh of relief as she stepped back, allowing his niece to take the lead. This was going to be her roommate, after all and first impressions were everything.

>>“So, I’ve been waiting to plan decorations until you got here. It’s your room, too, but I have ideas! Excited?”

>>”Yes? I mean, yes! Sure!”

Jorge smirked watching as the two of them interacted. In terms of first greetings, it was actually pretty simple and, well, easy. There was no vying for control, no one trying to take over the entire room for themselves, and no eye rolls or scoffs from having to share space -- honestly this was the best of all possibly circumstances. Definitely a sigh of relief was called for.

>> “Awesomesauce! Hello, sir! I’m Reagan Bush. Marisol’s your… niece, right?”

He greeted the young woman with a smile and a nod. ”That’s right. It’s lovely to meet you, Ms. Bush.” he greeted her. ”I hope that you and my niece and a excellent and educating time here.” He then turned to Marisol and gave her an encouragingly look. ”You think you got it from here, kiddo?”

Reagan was… a lot. Marisol got the impression that she might be high energy from the messages they traded, but you could only read someone so much through text. In person, she seemed to pop with each step and words left her mouth in bursts. High energy was an apt assessment, but Marisol supposed an overwhelmingly positive roommate would be a better start than a gloomy storm cloud. Marisol would have to learn to deal with live with the kind of person Reagan was. If her impression was right, Reagan was likely to be a talker, so Marisol could take a more passive role in conversations.

At least she was going to be part of the decorating process for the room! Had she not been invited to do so, Marisol likely would have let Reagan decorate the entire space to avoid any roommate conflict.

The greeting Reagan gave to Jorge was just as chipper as her own, and Marisol appreciated her uncle’s kind disposition toward the girl she would be living with for the next year. He asked if Marisol would be fine, and she gave it a moment’s thought. Finally, she could answer him genuinely. ”I think I’m going to be alright, Tío,” she answered with a smile. She walked back over to him and gave him one last tight hug and a kiss on his cheek, ignoring the scratchy scruff. ”Thank you for coming. I’ll see you and Gemma and Chase soon.”

Marisol waited for Jorge to bid his farewell and returned her attention to Reagan, who was grinning for some reason. ”What?” Did she do something wrong? Was kissing her uncle’s cheek childish? Should she be embarrassed?

“Your uncle is a total silver fox.”

”Ugh! Don’t we have some decorating to focus on?” she asked, smirking. She really was going to be alright.

It was needless to say that Reagan was a stark contrast to his own niece. Marisol could be energetic with the people that she knew, but she also was a bit of a contradictory wallflower. She prefered to observe people that she didn’t know and to hang back, letting others take the spotlight until she felt comfortable enough to join in (at least that was what he remembered). Now it seemed that Marisol was going to be paired with someone who would be forcefully pulling her away from the flower walls and into a tempest of conversation and energy.

Jorge, deep down, was glad for it. While it may seem like it would be best to have roommates who were exactly like you, the inherent problem with that is, when you begin to notice all the little things that irritated you about them, they ended up being reflections on your own shortcomings. It was always better to have someone to counter that, even if it seemed a little scary at first.

After greeting the other young woman, Jorge turned back to Marisol and checked in with her. This was going to be a change but it seemed like one that she was ready for. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug, and Jorge returned the favor.

>>”I think I’m going to be alright, Tío, Thank you for coming. I’ll see you and Gemma and Chase soon.”

”You better,” he smirked. He stepped out of the room and gave her a little wave. ”Take care and remember to message if you need my help,” he smiled. ”I’m always around.”

When the door closed the man sighed. Gemma and Chase were always going to be his family but to have actual blood family in the same city was...different. It seemed that they both had some new aspects of their lives to get used to. So, turning on his heel, Jorge slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and walked down the hall. He had other matters to attend to but, just in case, he increased the volume on his phone. He doubted Marisol would message him already but it was better safe than sorry.