He had to get out of the apartment. The last day or so Jorge had been by himself, pouring over everything in hopes of finding something familiar to him. Photographs, memorabilia, anything that would spark his memories, that would feel familiar. He found a couple things here and there that felt like him, just knick knacks or unconscious behaviors. However they weren't enough to truly feel comfortable. They were just...there.

The guitar he held perfectly in his hands fit like a glove. A well worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice" looked as if it had been read hundreds of times, though he remembered distinctly just buying it for himself brand new. And tons of little examples of muscle memory taking over clued him in that this was his apartment...he just couldn't fully remember it. And that was maddening.

It was like sitting in the house of a group partner that you've been assigned. He knew it was safe. He knew he was okay. But it still felt so off. The only bright spot was the visit he got from Gemma Taylor.

She was...interesting. He didn't know why but of all the strangeness happening in his life, he did feel comfortable with her. When she brought him the files about his powers and his older-than-hell bulldog, Lizzie, it brought a smile to his face. She was clearly a damn good counselor.

But he needed some time alone. He knew he couldn't search with someone looking over his shoulder, especially since she was still not offering up all the information. So he searched. And he searched. And searched. There was nothing but pictures and knick-knacks that offered him vague sensations but nothing concrete.

That was what spurred him out of the apartment. Well, that and his fridge was near empty and the dog food was low. Lizzie, despite her advanced age, was not going to take that lying down.

So here he was, at the corner store, carrying a basket and wandering the aisles. His clothing wasn't his, but some extra clothes that Ms. Taylor had gotten him from the school. Lost-and-found or standard gym wear, he thought. Now he was wearing dark, navy blue sweatpants and a black hoodie with "Chess of Crowns" (a TV show he's never heard of) printed on the back. Luckily no one seemed to say anything. Maybe it wasn't a good enough show to illicit conversation.

Wandering about, Jorge began to wonder if he went to this store often. It was in walking distance. He thought of this while tossing some bacon into his basket with lettuce, bread, cold cuts, and a couple other necessities. Did they know him here? Would they recognize him? Hrm...mutely he continued on, heading for the dog food section when he found himself distracted by a shelve of bagged popcorn. That didn't go there.

Sadly he couldn't celebrate a newly recovered muscle memory for long when he felt his basket thud against another's.

"Oh jeez! I'm sorry," he apologized quickly "Are you okay?"

The last couple of months had been a whirlwind for April, waking up in New York, in a random alley had been fairly traumatic. She'd gotten her brother to (reluctantly) agree to not talk to her family about it. She wasn't ready to deal with that yet. She was almost certain she wasn't the same person she'd been before this whole thing.

As a result of the weird situation she'd kind of been all over the city, she'd met all kinds of new people and spent very little time at home, with her brother. Mostly really, she'd just eaten meals and slept there, occasionally. Sometimes with partners.

Her brother was a patient man. Much more patient than her at any rate, but even Danny had his limits. So after the biggest verbal lashing she'd ever received outside of her mother she fled the apartment and barely had time to grab her bag and coat before she ran out from the yelling.

Okay. So she needed to pull her weight. Groceries seemed like a good start. She did feel bad, but... Okay, only a bit. She loved Danny and it sucked she was upsetting him, but April was still working out who she was, who she wanted to be.

Not half an hour later she was slowly strolling around a store April chided herself. She really should have made a list, she was just kind of running away from all the shouting. "Milk, butter, bread, cereal- what else did he nee" She turned a corner, looking around at the signs and not really paying attention to where she was going.

Her basket abruptly crashed into another and she very nearly lost her footing in the sudden shock, stumbling a little. "Gah! Sorry, not looking where I was going, totally my fault!" She apologised.

Jorge thought he was handling this deaging phenomena fairly well. Sure there were a lot of things he didn’t know or understand. The constant itch of the familiar in the back of his brain but he just couldn’t scratch it. His memories were still a mess, still focused on what he understood as his present, lacking the last several years of his life. But for as traumatic as such a thing would be to, well, anyone, he was handling it fairly well. There was one caveat -- his powers. It seemed that the years that he was missing, he had developed into a far stronger individual than he ever could have imagined.

That was all well and good for the most part. But in Jorge’s situation, and probably many others, he was plopped down into the middle of a maelstrom of powers with very little understanding and a steep learning curve.

One of his new, more interesting abilities, was sensing people near him. It went along with finding sources of water but instead it was the water carried within people themselves. It worked as a sort of echolocation, giving him an idea of who was around and being able to follow or watch out for them.

He knew someone was rounding the corner. As his cart rolled, the items shook and rattled within, his eyes had been drawn away towards a spot on the shelf that wasn’t filled with what should be there. That was when he felt the ping. That source of water that was just on the other side of the shelf. By the time his brain interpreted this information, his head turned back around just in time for his basket to clash heartily against that of another’s

The jolt shook through his arms, causing him to jump and immediately pull his cart back. Without seeing what had fully happened, he uttered his apology, apparently at the same time as the other person.

”No, no,” he said in a comforting tone. ”I’m sure it’s my fault. I was just...a little distracted.”

It was a woman he had bumped into. Luckily it was with her basket and not herself. Given how distracted he had been, he could have easily caused her more harm than some would consider possible. He couldn’t his and her stars and that there was a cart of metal and groceries between them. He then attempted to pull his cart away, to dislodge not only from hers, but the metal shelf as well.

”Are you okay?” he asked with genuine concern. ”You didn’t get hurt, did you?”