Bell hummed a drunken sailor under her breath as she carefully mixed up her third batch of cookie dough. The Mansion was alive and bustling, filled to the brim with emotions and people who felt them. It was overwhelming at times, especially in class when people were packed into classrooms. There were less people in her classes than there had been back at Saint Mary's, she hadn't been able to step inside the building of her school for months with so many teenagers in one place. It was a little easier here, though most of the students had....uhm...Bell kindly thought they had their own trials and tribulations to go through and sometimes it was surreal what she found out about her fellows through listening to the chatter of the gossips. So much drama. Still Bell knew life threw you curveballs in the least expected ways, especially for mutants.

A bell dinged on her phone and she stopped stirring to take the second batch of cookies out, peanut butter chocolate chip cookies the size of a grown man's fist and thick and soft as your grandmother's. Bell carefully got her spatula and started to transfer the piping hot cookies to a cooling rack. She hadn't made any friends yet, too nervous to talk to the other students, but she had already started giving away her baked goods. That morning she had made biscuits and creamed chipped beef and set it out with a note that said it was up for anyone who wanted some. Now after classes she was making cookies, something she could give out to the others more easily than the messy breakfast. She could help bring some good into the Mansion with her cooking and she'd be able to have something to focus on rather than the overwhelming myriad of feelings that surrounded her now.

Finishing up her cookie transfer Bell went back to her cookie dough. These would be chocolate coconut cookies, inspired by the Girl Scout Samoas. There was a little pang in her heart at the thought of her not being able to actually be a part of the girl scouts. Not that they wouldn't have taken her if she had gone up and declared she was a girl and wanted to join. Her family would have gone apoplectic if she had and even if her Dad allowed her to now, which he wouldn't, the Marshals would be beyond furious. So Bell was a boy to everyone else except her own mind, where she was firmly a girl and nothing was going to change her mind on it. So she wore her old school uniform taking off the crest for Saint Mary's and replacing it with an 'X' badge and nothing else. It was the easiest way for her to pass as a boy, wear boy clothes and sorta do boy things. Boys cooked and baked and no one thought they were girly. 

Dropping the cookie dough onto the cookie sheets she nodded firmly to herself, she could do this, she could be a boy.

Carrick woke up late again he pulled another all nighter at a bar that seemed like it never wanted to close, after singing his usual set of a few hours worth of music he had to resort to requests and then magic tricks. Either way by the end ot the night he had done his job and entertained the heck out of everyone. He even got a ‘play again here’. To him that was one of the highest complements because it meant future work and the shifter liked money.

One thing he didn’t like was class. Particularly Biology, it was taught by his ex-girlfriend and if that wasn’t enough he had been struggling to show up at all. For one it was too early and seeing as he didn't’ get back well after closing time he was struggling. Two he was hungover, free drinks were hard to pass up and three. It was bio, taught by Liz. He could have been stone cold sober and still have wanted to avoid it. He’d show up on test day and do just enough. Luckily the Princess was in the class with him so he was sure he could convince her to share notes.

The Irishman walked into the kitchen with an amount of swagger that could only be described as attention grabbing. Not only did he have his wings and tail grabbing everyone’s attention as he walked into a room but he was rocking the sunglasses indoors. He made a B-line for the coffee maker while practically spinning to avoid any physical interactions with the person baking the cookies. His stomach growled at the smell.

”Morning, ‘cuse me.” he said as he passed by not noticing anything other than the slacks and cookies. His mismatched colored eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the light yet. All he knew was he needed coffee. He stared at the coffee maker wondering if he was going to throw up.

Well that was a weird mix of emotions. Bell didn't comment on the swagger or the sunglasses indoors, she instead perked up at the sound of a stomach rumbling. Rumbling stomachs meant hunger and hunger Bell could fix. That was she could fix it after she put the fake samoas in the oven. Opening up the oven she slid the trays inside with all the precision of a master chef. It was only after she was done with her task did she take in the other teen who had come inside.

He was striking. Bell felt a flush rise on her pale neck and onto her cheeks as she looked at what had to be the most gorgeous set of wings she had ever seen. He looked like an angel. Not the good fluffy kind that people wrote about today, but a true angel, fearsome and strong. A warrior. He was so beautiful it hurt and Bell immediately felt her eyes go down to the ground to save herself the humiliation of being caught checking out an archangel of the lord. Her hands clasped nervously in front of her and she fidgeted awkwardly. Oh no, he wasn't feeling good either. Maybe she could...

"E-excuse me?" She shifted from foot to foot and her emerald green eyes flicked up to look at Carrick's face. She shyly reached forward and brushed her fingers against Carrick's wrist. Oh ugh, she felt disgusting almost instantly. Light hurt and her stomach turned against her and she turned a light shade of green. "D-do you feel b-better now?" She asked focusing once more on the ground. "W-would you like a cookie? I m-made snickerdoodles, peanut butter chocolate chip, and fake samoas are in t-the oven."

The shifter’s stomach churned again was it the smell of the cookies or whatever he was baking? No, it was probably the rest of the whiskey in an empty stomach. His head turned slightly hiding his cat like eyes behind his sunglasses. ”Eh?” he didn’t' really want to talk not till he had his coffee at least.

The guy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and Carrick wondered if he was looking for a bathroom. They were all over the mansion, he might have come from one recently trying to ‘get the poison out’. Carrick raised a hand and leaned back when the guy grabbed his hand. Taken by surprise his tail flicked in annoyance. Why was someone touching him this early? He didn’t like it when strangers touched him. Usually they were reaching for his wings, or his tail and even sometimes his ears but his wrist was a new one.

”Why are you....” his words faded and he suddenly felt like a million bucks, or better depending who you are asking a brand new Carrick. His stomach no longer felt like it was churning and his eyes weren’t as sensitive to light. Well less than they were before. His vision was always a little sensitive to light.

”... I do...” it was to both questions. He felt better and wanted a cookie or five. His stomach now with it’s new lease on a morning/afternoon he grabbed the coffee mug with enthusiasm. ”You look like hell now though.” he said guessing there was a reason he felt better and the person who just grabbed suddenly looked worse. Why would someone do that to themself without enjoying the festivities.

”You had me at peanut butter and chocolate chip.” he grinned flashing his pointed canines and then removed his sunglasses offering them up to the stranger. ”You might need these more than me right now.” he said pouring a large cup for himself. ”Ya need any?” he asked hefting the pot.

”You took me hangover? Why?” the person must have wanted something. A favor? Gems? He might have had his favorite looking diamond in his pocket but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to give that up just yet. His Gryphon form would have a fit.

Bell tried not to cringe at the annoyance being directed towards her forward move in touching the complete stranger. Still it was necessary for her power to work properly and have the guy not feeling like a truck had hit him. Bell was used to feeling hangovers, not that she drank herself, it was simply she'd had an alcoholic neighbor back in Middlebury that she had often taken pity on. It hadn't been pity right now helping the poor archangel not throw up his whiskey it was simply if she could help she would for it was the right thing to do. Even if it had her wanting to crawl back into bed and wait it out.

"I-it'll p-pass in a m-m-minute. You w-weren't the w-worst hangover I've dealt w-with." Bell answered honestly already grabbing a mug to start some tea. Nothing quite like tea to help deal with all manner of ailments. It was almost as good as a healing factor. Almost. Healing factor sort of rocked when it came to fixing all sorts of problems. "T-thank you." Bell set her empty mug down and gratefully reached for the sunglasses, trying not to blush too brightly at the debonair smile and manner of the Irishman.

Well tea was great but coffee worked too. It'd be rude of her to decline so she picked up her mug again and offered it towards the archangel to fill up. Once the other stopped pouring Bell went to the fridge and got out a carton of half and half and a small container of caramel she had made earlier that week. She poured a little of both into her cup and offered up the ingredients to Carrick wordlessly.

"Y-you f-felt b-b-bad. I c-c-could fix it." Taking a sip of her caramel coffee she smiled into her cup shyly. "I w-want t-to do m-my part in h-helping. S-so if you h-have another h-hangover l-let me k-know, I-i'll f-fix it."

While he did have a healing factor, his liver didn’t seem to get the message. He might bounce back better than most but it was still a process for him and now this poor person had to deal with it. His guilt faded though after his sunglasses were accepted from him. Carrick did all he could now. After pouring them both coffee he walked over the finished cookies and sniffed the air above them waiting till he detected peanut butter.

His tail flicked behind him as he studied his prey looking for the nicest looking cookie. They all looked good but there was always one that looked picture perfect. Tilting his head back to the miracle cure he shook his head at the offered cream and... something sweet he didn’t know what it was but already had his eye on the cookie he could always grab it later if it was in the fridge. Labels meant little to him in a community fridge. If Sam wanted to keep his bacon and steaks safe he’d put them in the other fridges he owned. ”I’m all set. Irish coffee fer me.” he said pulling the flask from his back pocket.

”Well, if it’s a free service yer providing I won’t turn it down.” he smirked and turned his attention back to the cookies and spotted his target. His hand swooped down and grabbed it and he took a few steps to the other side of the counter. ”I like free.” he said almost having a pep in his step now that he was hangover free since... he looked to the clock upset the thought didn’t rhyme.

”Carrick O’Conner” he thumbed his chest and started to devour his cookie after thumbing his chest. ”Resident flyer and musician.” he said this time with a full mouth. The flask contents was poured into the coffee and he took a sip of it. Figuring there was no reason not to enjoy ‘hair of the dog’ if he didn’t feel hungover. ”You are? Other than super helpful, that hangover was a good one too. You sure you don’t need ta sit down or throw up?” Carrick being thoughtful offered up the flask.