>> "...You had asked me why I would be so eager to give pain. I now ask why you were so eager to receive it. "

Calley let out an abrupt laugh. Well. That was really the question, wasn't it? He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans as his habitual smile slipped onto his face. "Well." Smile. "That's a good question. Isn't it." Smile. "There's the reason I gave before, about tryin' to make sure I'm not useless to my team. But also... it sounded like a challenge. And I can usually make use of 'em. Other than that," perennial smile, "who knows?" There wasn't a safe way to answer that question. Not when Hunter's employees could hear his every word. More importantly, though: that wasn't a fair turn around. The guy had dodged Calley's question in the first place; therefore, Calley was practically obligated to parallel the man's own shifty response.

>> "By the way, you probably know from the whispers that I am Garrett. What's your name?"

He pulled one hand out of his pocket, and stuck it out into the air. "Calley. Caleb Yeldham, according to the paperwork, but just Calley." Truer words were rarely spoken. Technically. "I guess the usual get-to-know-you question around here is 'what's your power?', but I think we've covered that. Thoroughly. So..." Calley fished into his mind, and lightly pulled out; "If you were going to die tomorrow, what would you cook for your last meal?"

Honestly, that question was probably the best answer to the teen's question that Calley was going to give, indirectly or not. And somewhere along the line, he'd lost his hesitant umm's, ah's, and err's.

Smile.

The eternal smiling. It was such a wide and **** eating grin that it reminded Garrett of something. He couldn't place it just yet. The kid was dodgy, there was no doubt about that. Of course, in this institution of children with graveyards in their closets, anyone and everyone was equally capable of hiding. Garrett included. " I can respect your privacy or motives then. Too many people these days just lay their entire agenda out in the open. Having secrets makes people more interesting, don't you agree?" He added his own trademark smirk, though not as wide as the one Calley gave.

Garrett nodded pleasantly when Calley introduced himself. He also sidestepped the last meal question, choosing instead to correct the lad on his mistake. " Actually, we haven't covered the getting-to-know-you bit so much, have we? Yes, you do indeed know what I can do. But I doubt that a high tolerance for pain alone got you in here. What exactly is it that you do?" Garrett thought back to remember if he had ever actually said it. No, he hadn't. Well, he could now. That cartoonish smile was plastered on his face yet again. Cartoonish. Yes. Now, he remembered where he had seen a look like that before. The oh so charming Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Garrett was certainly hurtling down a rabbit hole of his own now, so why not?

>> " I can respect your privacy or motives then. Too many people these days just lay their entire agenda out in the open. Having secrets makes people more interesting, don't you agree?"

Calley's head did a slow, somewhat-appraising, somewhat-confused tilt to the side. "Not really. Secrets don't really have a thing to do with how interesting you are--just with how much other people know about you. Knowledge and interest are too very different things. Just look at badly written textbooks. Or well written ones, for that matter."

>> " Actually, we haven't covered the getting-to-know-you bit so much, have we? Yes, you do indeed know what I can do. But I doubt that a high tolerance for pain alone got you in here. What exactly is it that you do?"

Interesting, indeed. Calley met the man's smirk and continued to one-up it. Not because he really intended to; he didn't call it his 'habitual smile' for nothin'. But yes. Interesting. Either Garrett had a poor memory for the sorts of details that Calley thrived on, or the man was testing his answers for consistency. This made two questions in a row that Calley had already answered.

"I'm a weretiger and a self-healer. Remember?" He said gently, raising one eyebrow in the faintest feint of surprise. "Umm, no offense--it's not that I mind--but is there a reason you're repeatin' questions? I got kind of smart-mouthed about that whole 'why are you doing this' question, I admit, but that's mostly 'cause I already answered it: my problem isn't pain tolerance, it's... pain tolerance. I just kinda tolerate it; I don't really do much else. I froze during the X-men tryouts when I got hurt. Not bad enough to not make the team, obviously, but bad enough that in a real fight, I'd have been a liability to my team. My personality is liability enough without adding in 'just stands there when he gets hit'. If someone's got my back, I kinda want to--" Calley's eyebrows dipped together for a fleeting moment, then smoothed. Wow. Was he actually buying into his own rhetoric? If he didn't know himself better, he'd swear he actually meant what he was saying. "I kinda want to have their back, too. It just seems like a nice little world that the Mansion's got going on, even if it's naive as all hell and more than a little hypocritical. I--" Calley shut his mouth. Okay. And that was entirely too much out of him. Even if he wasn't probably boring the other guy, the whole 'expressing opinions' thing was sort of a tip-off to Hunter's men that he might potentially possibly occasionally think about things. That was a dangerous view for Hunter's men to hold. It was also the one area he just kept slipping up in.

"Umm, sorry. That's probably enough from me. Umm, so what brought you to the Mansion? If we're doing the get-to-know-you game still, that is."