She wrapped things up with chef, called Super for a pickup, and turned with the intention of cleaning herself off in a bathroom. Then she stopped. Eyes locked on to the one who had helped her. She supposed, in spite of the madness, she ought to thank them. Maybe lessen a name. Research it out later. Learn.

“Thank you for the help. What did you say your name was?” She asked.

A nagging thought whispered in the back of her mind. Maybe she had seen this person before? Maybe, at some traumatic event involving good guys, bad guys, and explosions as far as the eye could see? An ultimate showdown, perhaps? At war with the mystics…? No. Nothing clicked.

“Useful power: What all can you do with it?” She said. Found herself saying. You don’t always ask a mutant that sort of thing. Some are defensive of proprietary properties. Personal mutation stuff. Signatures. Also it was often real damn hard to pin a power down. Her own, with the recent weird for instance…

Good this place was a mess. Amelia pitied clean up. They’d be finding filling months later, in cracks they’d never even dreamed existed. Maybe a power washer would help….

Zek made fantastic eye contact with the woman as he continued to eat. Since he was already covered in pie, he felt like it didn't really matter if he used a fork or not, so he just kept scooping bits of pie off himself, the counter, and everywhere else before mashing it into his face.

"No prob," he said around mouthfuls of cherry filling. "Didn't even see you there at first," he informed her. But he could still take credit for altruism and such. "And I didn't say my name."

Zek blinked. His head tilted. "Or at least I don't think I said what it was. I got hit on the head a few times." He nodded. That must've been it. He smooshed a handful of pie into his mouth, which involves smearing some of it around his face, still maintaining amazing eye contact with the woman. He wasn't even blinking. Didn't need to, after all.

"I can do lots with my power," he said. Little chunks of cherries dribbled out of his mouth, joining the mish mash of pie guts on his chest. "Mostly I just store things. Like cake."

Then a thought occurred to him. "Hey, you want some of that cake? I got extra."