Max walked along 44th street at night, letting New York City fill his senses. The smells of thousands of people came together to form one muted scent, much like when all different colors are combined to make a dull brown. He picked out a few distinguishable ones though, the smell of the fresh pretzel vendor, the mingling perfumes of the various women walking by, and the sharp, brisk scent of the cold air cutting through his thin clothing.

The lights, that was what really caught his attention. Everything else he had experienced before in Chicago and the other cities he had traveled to, but nothing compared to the lights of Times Square at night. He stopped suddenly, causing the flow of people to ripple around him like a stone tossed suddenly into a meandering stream. He stared at the huge neon ads around him- McDonald's, Virgin Mobile, Microsoft, and countless others. Symbols of the material world that captured and mesmerized billions of humans.

I am not like them, I am different. His thoughts surprised him. He had always thought of himself as human, sort of. A different human, possibly. But for the past eight years he had wrestled with the idea that maybe he was not what he so desperately wanted to be-normal. He wasn't normal. He had this...ability? Power? He didn't know what to call it. Not only that, but he didn't desire what all those sheep walking by him did. He never needed friends, or stuff like iPods and cars to make him happy. All he ever wanted was the freedom to be himself. That was going to be even harder now that he had come to one of the places mutants were hunted with the most ferocity. But he had questions that needed answering, and he knew there were mutants in hiding here. He just had to find them. Maybe they abandoned me because I am a mutant, did they already know what I was before I did? The thought burst into his mind, taking advantage of an unguarded moment. He didn't like to think about his non-existent parents, but sometimes the thoughts floated to the surface of his mind despite all his careful repression.

"Hey! Move it or lose it jerk-off!" The rude comment snapped him back to reality, and he calmly began to walk again, his previous thoughts forgotten, for now. Well at least that's the same. He continued walking, content for now with being a tiny, unnoticeable speck in the shifting tides.

An unnoticeable speck in the crowd. Two, if you wanted to be technical about it. And more noticeable than most. After all, it wasn't that the Italian teenager was trying to hide what he was--it was more that he was gleefully hiding it in plain sight. Less than a month ago, his power had grown. Or, rather, he'd grown to realize a part of his power he'd never even imagined before. He didn't know how he'd ever lived without it. He wasn't normal--hadn't been since puberty. But suddenly, he could pretend to be perfectly normal. While using his power to its fullest. It was... quite possibly the best feeling in the world. As the lanky eighteen year old carelessly twined between the ebbs, flows, and gurgles of New York sidewalk traffic on 44th Street, he let the restless city night fill his senses. All of his senses.

Calley was a multi-shifter. A month ago, he'd thought that meant that he could turn into any animal he'd ever met. Now, he knew it was a lot more fun than that.

There was a tall black witch's hat on top of the teenager's short brown hair. It was the kind they sold for a dollar-fifty at about any store you walked into this time of year, from here to San Diego. The rest of his clothes were less seasonal: just a pair of nice black slacks, and a blue shirt so dark it left his baby blue eyes looking down-right pale. On the teenager's shoulder, with its shoulder brushing against his cheek, was perched a black cat. More like a black kitten: it was only about seven months old. With every step the teenager took, the kitten dug in its claws in a haphazard effort to keep its balance. It was facing backwards. Its wide yellow eyes were somewhat alarmed. It wasn't feeling particularly alarmed, though.

"Cute," a Goth girl gave him a smirk, revealing her own dollar-fifty set of plastic fangs. "Do you always go for the live props?" She lisped.

"Nom nom," The Italian teenager returned with his own smirk. "Do you like the live props?" The two did a brief dance of stares on the city sidewalk, then swirled off on their separate ways. Calley had a girlfriend. One who stabbed people. It wasn't wise to cheat.

The kitten watched the Gothic girl as she walked away. So did Calley, for the record. Even as he watched the street in front of him, he saw everything the kitten saw. He felt every shift of its claw-tipped feet from two angles: his own shoulder, and the pads of its feet. He was the one who scrambled to keep its balance just so. Because, boys and gals, Calley was also the kitten. And the kitten was also Calley. And this shiny new splintering ability? It kind of rocked.

>> "Hey! Move it or lose it jerk-off!"

Calley was walking towards the scene of that brief, typical encounter. The one who wasn't trying to vent his personal problems on street traffic was taller than Calley. By a rather good margin. Dirty blonde hair, longer than Calley would ever let his get. And blue eyes. Well, if he had blue eyes... then blue eyed folk really needs must stick together. Calley tried to meet the slightly older mans' gaze; he shook his head slightly in passing, which had the unfortunate effect of sending his witch's hat careening off towards the ground. A small grin tugged at the corner of one side of his mouth. "Never been quite sure what you're supposed to 'lose'," he commented idly, crouching to rescue the hat from several dozens sets of East Coast feet.

"Murrrr," the kitten assented. Either that, or it was just protesting the bumpy ride.

>>"Never been quite sure what you're supposed to 'lose',"

Max met the younger man's gaze curiously, though no outward emotion showed. He was certainly dressed strangely, though in a city this big outfits tended to range widely from the more common to well...anything really. Max watched him stoop to retrieve the hat amid the currents of uninterested feet, all the while the kitten atop his shoulders managing to hold it's balance quite excellently. He debated responding briefly, giving that he didn't know this person, or anyone, really. Well, that's all the more reason to try to meet someone, that is why I came here isn't it?

He shrugged indifferently at the man's comment, not sure what normal conversation required at this point. "Nice cat," the comment seemed stupid as he heard it leave his mouth. But he had always liked cats. They were independent for the most part, easily capable of self-sufficiency if required, yet clung to humans for nourishment and shelter because it made their lives easier. Perhaps in that respect they reminded Max of himself. He tried a quick grin, quickly realized he was showing too much teeth, and closed his mouth in an awkward smirk. Great, I'll scare everyone off before I even get a chance at a second impression

Hat: returned to its rightful place. Calley straightened back up, pulling the wide brim down further on his head as he did so. The blonde-haired man seemed a pretty cool customer. He'd met Calley's gaze. Met it, and returned it with blank composure. Now he was giving a cool-guy shrug.

>> "Nice cat."

TEETH! The awkward smile that followed that too-wide grin left Calley blinking for a moment. He gave a startled burst of a laugh. Maybe not so cool, after all.

"Still getting a feel for New York?" He hazarded. It was a guess: the man's accent wasn't right to be an East Coast native like Calley, and that reaction had been... interesting. Plus the guy had actually stopped walking, and was giving him the time of day. Clearly not someone who'd been in the city long. Even in his brief encounter with the Goth girl, neither of their feet had ever stopped moving. Calley wouldn't have stopped for this guy, either, if his hat hadn't gone mildly suicidal on him.

The kitten had flicked one ear back towards the man. Slowly, one yellow eye came around to slyly stare at the man. "Rrrrranks," it hissed lowly, through vocal chords never meant for human speech.

Calley grinned a Cheshire grin. He was starting to understand all those other mutants who got off on randomly displaying their powers in public. It was fun; like merrily balance-beam walking on the railing of a bridge. Would the guy call him on it? That was the question.