The prawn could count, on her two primary hands, the number of times she'd been out of the apartment in the past two months-- and that was saying something, since she only had six fingers. In two months, her anxiety had had no improvement. Every venture beyond the confines of Hadden's building made Jack feel like she was drowning-- pulse climbing uselessly, unable to catch her breath, the air around her pressing in, vision darkening... It didn't help that one of her half-dozen ventures out ended in decimating a glitchy METAbot in defense of a talking bird.

Inside, it wasn't much better-- she wasn't sleeping well, and the tiniest things set her off. Be it the guilt of accidentally killing someone (though she was acting in self-defense... the man had been wielding a gun and had already killed her doppelganger), or the dismay over losing someone dear to her heart, or the fact that she couldn't see Zinnia again... or even if she could, Jack couldn't bring herself to endanger Zinnia or the student at Xavier's. Sometimes, the inkling that she should turn herself in surfaced, but no-- the prawn had always been a runner. She couldn't stop now. And besides-- most people thought she was dead. After all, they'd found... Jude... shot in the hallway of her apartment. He didn't revert when he'd been shot, either... he looked like her. What else would they think?

To say that Jack was a mess was an understatement... and, in the past two months, she'd mostly just bided her time, and hoped for improvements were necessary, and to fade into obscurity in other less savory facets of her life.

Today, in a display of bravery, the prawn had decided to leave her unit and sit in the lounge on her floor of the building. There were a number of apartment units, each housing a resident (though perhaps some apartments were empty) and between all of these apartments, a common lounge with couches, a t.v., a table with four chairs, and some snack machines were shared. There were even a few desktop computers. Venturing to the lounge was a baby-step towards hopefully, eventually, acclimating herself to going outside once again. Without the panic attacks that she presently fell subject to.

Armed with a messenger bag full of things to do, the prawn left her apartment and stole towards the seating area. She chose a spot on the end of one couch, taking a seat and tucking her knees against her chest. Already her heart was hammering. What if someone else came out? What if something happened to them? The pinpricks of light had started to glow along the spines and ridges of her arm, indicating the anxiety that her heartbeat did a perfect job of conveying.

"No, no, no..." the prawn muttered to herself, grinding her mandibles. Glowing preceded explosive punches. She had to calm down. In the bright light of the lounge, the weak illumination from her bioluminescent pores almost looked like sparkles. Jack rubbed her arms, as if to wipe away the anxiety and the luminous pores... maybe this was a mistake...

Sveta was getting sick of her own apartment. It was nice, really, and Devon made sure she had everything she needed, but even after an impromptu cleaning spree, it felt too confining to stay in all day. Going outside, on the other hand.., Nope. Sveta ended up opting for the middle ground, and heading to the lounge to watch some TV, or maybe just sit around in a space that was not her own apartment.

When she walked in, she paused. There was someone already there. She was not avoiding human contact - friends had been visiting her - but she was also not sure who that someone was, and how they would take to having to make small talk with the blonde Russian. She looked at the mutant sitting on the couch, with a spectacular visible mutation akin to a... crab, of some sort?... And tried to decide what to do. It was too late to back out of the room now, without looking like she was scared of them.

"Hello" Sveta waved "I was just gonna... dunno, sit around?" she shrugged, she had no energy to make up something less embarrassing "But if you want to be alone I can go."

Jack's head snapped to attention when a soft voice interrupted the downward spiral of anxious thoughts. A really pretty blonde woman was standing at the edge of the lounge, softly pressing to see if it was alright for her to intrude. The prawn’s antennae lifted.

“O-oh, no, it’s no trou’le at all,” Jack mumbled bashfully, gesturing to the surrounding couches, “‘lease. I insist.”

Her lavender eyes cut towards the floor. She could feel her throat clenching shut, one of her fingers developed a tic. It’s fine, she told herself. You’re fine. You aren’t going to hurt anyone. Some company will do you good. Even if said company was just watching t.v. and not actually talking to her.

“S-sorry iss I seen on-edge,” the prawn muttered quickly, digging into her bag and fishing out a block of wood and a whittling knife. Carving would help cool her nerves… hopefully, “I, uh… you e’er… not talk to anyone sore a while, and den when it cuns tine to talk to sun-one again, you don’t really know how?”

God that sounded so dumb. It was true, though. Words creaked out of the prawn’s mouth as though her voice was a rusted-over hinge. In the wake of her explosive development, the prawn had been a bit shellshocked… through moving, through rehabilitation, through attempted (and failed) reintegration… she was so busy trying to function that she kind-of forgot to speak sometimes. Agitatedly, Jack began whittling at the wood, her knife shaving-off a corner with a satisfying *shik!*

“Nay’e that sounds silly,” the prawn dismissed the sentiment.

>>“O-oh, no, it’s no trou’le at all. ‘lease. I insist.”

Sveta took a seat in an armchair, a safe distance away from the shrimp-woman. She was always careful around people with physical mutations; not only because it was easier to remind herself to keep her distance, but also because her boosting usually came with painful transformations for them, and she really did not want to do that to someone who seemed to be already feeling blue.

>>“S-sorry iss I seen on-edge. I, uh… you e’er… not talk to anyone sore a while, and den when it cuns tine to talk to sun-one again, you don’t really know how?... Nay’e that sounds silly,”

The other woman started carving on a piece of wood, so she could not see the look on Sveta's face. Apparently she was not the only one that Devon offered a safe haven to, and who had been spending time by herself in a nice but lonely apartment.

"I know what you are talking about" she nodded "I have been... um, taking time off in my apartment. When I go out it is like I'm always on edge... so I only came this far today" she confessed, gesturing at the lounge. "My name is Sveta, by the way. And yours?"

The prawn continued to slice away at the small wooden block, her gaze very pointedly directed away from the woman's face. Surely someone that pretty couldn't have too many troubles integrating into society.

>> "I know what you are talking about. I have been... um, taking time off in my apartment."

Shame on Jack, for assuming someone human-looking couldn't know how she felt. A shade of surprise flickered across her face, and she paused in the carving to look at the other young woman. Like really, truly look at her.

>> "When I go out it is like I'm always on edge... so I only came this far today."

"Nee too," the prawn sighed, "I's only gone out sore... to get sued-" "Food", which was the optimal codeword for "booze", "-'ut still sings kee' ha'ening e'ery tine I go out." Like blowing-up METAbots in the defense of a stranger. Ugh. The prawn resumed carving the wood. Some of the hard angles of the block were adopting curves here-and-there. She'd have to work her way up to going out again... but at least she lived right above where she worked.

>> "My name is Sveta, by the way. And yours?"

"Jack," the prawn answered back, "Short sore Jacquelyn. Nice to neet you."

The prawn wasn't sure what else to say... after all, Sveta had come out to watch some t.v. ... the prawn wasn't going to interrupt that.

It was a little hard to understand the other woman, talking with the mandibles and all, but luckily Sveta was used to deciphering strange accents... all English accents were strange to her in a way anyway, and her own had caused troubles in the past as well. She understood enough to follow, either way, and at least the other mutant was talking slowly.

>>"Nee too. I's only gone out sore... to get sued--'ut still sings kee' ha'ening e'ery tine I go out."

"Yeah. Tell me about it." Sveta smirked. Things did keep happening, seemingly every time she stepped outside. She knew the feeling all too well.

>>"Jack. Short sore Jacquelyn. Nice to neet you."

"Nice to meet you" she smiled and waved from the other side where she was sitting "Sorry, I don't shake hands, my powers don't play nice with other mutants... So, did Devon invite you here as well?"

Jack nodded her head at the proffered "nice to meet you", but then made a confused chirr when Sveta commented on her mutation.

"Are you an Ada'ted?" the prawn clicked in confusion. She didn't really know that Adapteds were technically humans... to her, they were just mutants with a special name, because there were so many of them. It was a gap in knowledge that was humorous for someone as street-smart as she was. Regardless of the young woman's answer, the prawn turned her attention to her hands, which wrung together anxiously.

>> "... So, did Devon invite you here as well?"

Her mind replayed that morning where, in desperation, she'd turned to Devon for help. Watching a friend die, another man dying by her own hands, the wall of her apartment being blown-out. She had been desparate. Terrified. As any sane person would have been. She couldn't go to Zinnia, couldn't take that trouble to her parent's house. What if she'd been volatile? She couldn't go to Xavier's either, for the same reason. Devon was all she had.

"No..." the prawn said, after a pregnant pause, "I cane to hin... he was all I had."

Her expression pinched, as if something had stung her, or she was holding back tears.

"I work downstairs, at In-ser-no," she murmured, "I knew Hadden has resources, and could 'ro'ly hel' nee out..."

>>"Are you an Ada'ted?"

"Nah. I'm the opposite of an adapted." Sveta answered. If Jack was living in Haven, she was probably better off knowing anyway. Hadden would not have taken her in otherwise.

>>"No... I cane to hin... he was all I had. I work downstairs, at In-ser-no. I knew Hadden has resources, and could 'ro'ly hel' nee out..."

"Yeah, he's that kinda guy" Sveta nodded with a small smile "Helping people when they have nowhere else to go." She knew that from experience. And if Devon trusted Jack like he did Sveta, then she was glad to meet someone like her.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Jack didn't really get it. What was the opposite of an Adapted? Did she trigger mutations that hadn't emerged yet? Jack could certainly pass on additional mutations, especially if they were as explosive as her most recent addition.

Jack just nodded in agreement, as if she understood. Devon was a really nice guy. He'd welcomed Jack in, helped her get back on her feet again… she was so grateful for that… really, she owed him a lot. But that wasn't a comfortable feeling, to owe someone something, for an ex gang member.

>> "You wanna talk about it?"

“No,” the prawn mumbled, a tension creeping into her tone. It'd been two months, but she still dwelt on it. She stopped catching momentarily to survey Sveta, “N-not really…”

An apologetic look crossed her features.

“I just… sun guys ‘roke into ny house,” the prawn said vaguely, “Dey was as-ter my s’riend… tried to kill nee…”

She set the wood and whittling knife down, wringing her hands together. Her gaze dropped.

“I was lucky… I got away… he…”

She looked back up at Sveta, to see if she understood. Jack couldn't bring herself to say any more. Her throat clenched, threatening tears.

Sveta could tell that something was on Jack's mind. Otherwise she would not have been running to Haven in the first place, but even beyond that, there was obviously something going on. Sveta usually had enough to deal with on her own without asking others, but today she was feeling sorry for the other mutant. So she asked.

>>“No. N-not really…”

Sveta was ready to nod in understanding... but then Jack went on anyway.

>>“I just… sun guys ‘roke into ny house. Dey was as-ter my s’riend… tried to kill nee… I was lucky… I got away… he…”

Jack trailed off, but the end of the story was painfully clear anyway. Whatever happened to the friend, even if they were not dead... was bad. And whatever happened, Jack was probably blaming herself for getting away. She sighed with empathy.

"I am sorry" she told Jack. It was rough, what she was going through. Instead of pity, she tried to turn to more practical questions. "Do you know who they were? SUPER agents?" It would have made sense, from the sound of it.

The question earned a quizzical look from the shelled woman, which was directed at the sculpture in her hands. She breathed-out sharply, the expression like a spurt of air suddenly being released from a tire.

"I dunno what dat is," Jack said, "Dey's just guys wiss guns."

Her response may have seemed terse, but it was honest. She didn't knew were they are. All she knew was that they broke into her home and killed Jude right in front of her... but... at least she got one of the- no. No, it was still wrong, and she should feel wrong for viewing the murder as some sort of retribution. "Blood for blood" was how her old gang had operated... she was different.

Right?

The prawn grimaced to herself at the thought.

"What's a S-Suitor Agent?" the prawn asked of her newfound companion.

Whatever happened in that apartment, it had to have been traumatic. Sveta studied the look on Jack's face as she looked away and busied herself with carving a piece of wood. She was not falling apart, exactly, but she was definitely not fully together either. Sveta was fairly sure, at this point, that her friend was dead. Not exactly an uplifting conversation so far...

>>"I dunno what dat is. Dey's just guys wiss guns... What's a S-Suitor Agent?"

"Dey are a government organization from the other side of the rip" Sveta sighed with a frown "They collect mutants to work for them, and hunt the ones that refuse. I was... they held me for a while."

The prawn stopped with her woodcarving once again, the confusion clear in her eyes. Even before her two months of being on Plum Island/being a recluse, the prawn had never kept very close watch on current events. For as street-smart as she was, she was clueless when it came to the world at-large.

"What's duh Rit?" the prawn pressed-on, watching Sveta luminously. Part of her was inclined to believe that the lady was messing with her, but the other part of her was intrigued. What reason did the blonde have to lie? She gained nothing from dishonesty. Unless she was crazy, that was always a distinct possibility.

Sveta explained as clearly and simply what SUPER was as one could with an organization that was hard to define. SUPER was a lot of things that defied explanation, mostly due to the different kinds of people that worked for them. Jack looked confused... but when she asked her next question, it was not any of the questions Sveta had been expecting for clarification.

>>"What's duh Rit?"

Sveta blinked.

"Uh... the inter-dimensional portal at Madison Square Park? The one leads to de other New York?"

The look of profound confusion deepened on the prawn's face. She really had been living in a hole for the past few months... and her avoidance of anyting that threatened her formerly-normal life meant that she'd likely blocked out any talk of "interdimensional portals" out, and had written any such nonsense off as "the latest sci-fi movie to be released in theaters".

"Duh what now," the prawn intoned. Jack stared at Svetlana for a hot minute, then looked away, pressing a primary hand against her brow.

"A nudder New York?" the prawn repeated. She rubbed at her face now, "As iss... one isn't e-nuss." Jack gave a humorless chuckle at her own remark. It was taking her a while to process this.

Finally, she said, "So dere's a-nudder New York, and in dee uzzer New York, dere are deez Su'er guys dat like... strong-arn nyutants into... whate'er?"

This set the prawn to muttering about how foolish it'd been to come to a big city in search of a normal life, and how there couldn't just be a boring moment in NYC.