((ooc: Takes place after "Embrace teh Sulk All Ye Who Enter Here".))

Kat had left. That left Calley alone with himself, sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring out the window. And 'himself' wasn't as talkative as usual. Really, they all just needed to sleep.

The moon outside was nearly full. It shone full, and lit the room in a wash of cold white that erased the need to have the light flipped on. So he didn't. Anyways, Neena was coming soon--or would be coming, whenever she got around to it. And she liked the dark, so she didn't need no stinkin' overhead light. And to Calley right now, dark and light were both equally dim. His chin dipped towards his chest. Woop! Back up. Neena was coming. Eventually. He could sleep later. He yawned into his shoulder. His shoulder, which was still clad in a shirt borrowed from the dog's house. He'd wanted to change. But he'd realized something: he really didn't have clothes here. He had some at this apartment, but really not many. That's how much moving in he'd done, in both places: he barely even had clothes around. Granted that tiger-shifting had destroyed its fair share of outfits, but it wasn't like he couldn't have replaced them. He had the money. Even if he didn't, the Mansion had clothes for students who couldn't afford their own--yet still, his dresser drawers were empty, and the only thing in his closet were the pillows from his bed, tossed high onto a top shelf to never be mentioned again.

The moon stretched, blurred, was split by dozens of thin vertical lines--then disappeared. Calley woke up again when he fell sideways onto the bed. He was awake--he was awake. He was a man, and he had self-control, and he could wait for his stern talking-to. He could wait for Neena to come without Luke or anyone else in tow, and kick him off the X-Men and out of the Mansion without disturbing anyone else's night. He could stay awake at least that long. Then it was a quick drive back to his own apartment, to a closet that did have clothes. Even if it didn't have all that many. And most of them had been stolen from a lawyer, over a year ago. ...Seriously, did he have any clothes that were actually his own?

Talking with Kat had helped drain some of the sulk out of him. Unfortunately, that left him with very little left inside. The dog was in the DocProf's hands--that was one debt paid. Hunter had been dealt with, to a somewhat satisfactory end. That was a year of preparation taken to realization; over and done with. He had some homework, over there in his backpack--but since he was about to get kicked out, there wasn't much point in doing it. He hadn't even started it; before he'd left, he had to admit, homework was pretty low on his priorities list. It just... didn't matter much.

The Mansion was outside of the city. That meant that there were actually stars to be seen, in the sky. Not right next to the moon, though--its light drowned theirs out. Drowned out in white; washed completely clean, to the point they weren't even there any more. Calley didn't want to ever be washed that clean. Even if he did end up making little girls worry about him when he disappeared, and even if he didn't own his own clothes, or decorate any of the rooms he occasionally slept in. At least he was out there in the black. He could be seen. Even if he was just a small dot, out there with the rest of them; even if the moon was the first thing that grabbed everyone's attention. That's the way he lived. So it must be the way he liked it. And... and everything was blending together, anyway. Light and dark. And then there was just dark.

Calley's door was open. Curled up on his side on the bed, facing away from the door, was a teenage boy who'd been pushing things too hard for over a year, and far, far too hard these past few weeks. The moonlight cast stark shadows across him that shifted smoothly with each slow breath he took. Sleep was good. In sleep, things like homework and friends could matter, and an owl flew down to perch on his windowsill, and tell him something even better than forgiveness: it told him that there was nothing wrong with secrets to begin with. That light was just a lie, told by the full moon; that the new moon would come, and show a darkness where every star became a torch of its own light on its own black.

After Luke left, Neena returned to her rooftop perch. She needed to gather her thoughts before she spoke with Calley, otherwise a simple ‘talk’ would turn into a confrontation. The night’s darkness and the moon’s light provided comfort, allowing her clarity of thought and emotion.

She was not emotionless. Fearless, but not emotionless. She never had been, and never claimed to be. Her expressions of emotion often differed quite vastly from the world at large, but the basic feelings were still there. Most everyone saw her cheerful spirit, and she didn’t feel the need to argue the issue with those that didn’t believe she could always be that happy. Some saw her sad, though her mourning rarely included tears. Somber was perhaps a better word, or perhaps gloomy. She was used to disappointment, but it still hurt deeply. She could be passionate and intimate, but her mutation made it difficult. The number of those who had seen that side of her could be counted on one hand. Disgust, remorse, pride, jealousy, frustration, longing, annoyance, confusion, delight, and a slew of other words used to describe the inward state of being.... Neena felt them.

That included anger. And the source of her current anger was what she needed to come to terms with, before confronting Calley. She thought she had it narrowed down to one word: Sanctuary. Lying about his name and background and means of living, lying about his mutation, getting into a fight with his father, even breaking into a home and stealing a dying dog..... She could deal with those things. The basics of those acts – lying, fighting, running away, stealing – probably close to half of the Mansion’s residents were guilty of that at one time or another, including her. It had even been her living once. Calley was still a teenager. Life had a lot to teach him still; the Mansion was just a stand in with hopes of giving the lessons a bit of cushion. The World was the real teacher.

But his connections with the Sanctuary.... that rankled, deep down inside. And as much as she wanted to, Neena couldn’t deny the feeling was personal. Syn lived at and ran the Sanctuary. Someone under Syn’s command had attacked her home and her family. And Neena took that attack very personally. It was one of the main reasons she hadn’t attempted to confront the woman already. In her current state of mind, and especially with the lack of information about the manipulative girl, Neena was likely to get herself killed and possibly endanger the Mansion once more. Calley’s admitted connection with the Sanctuary had brought those feelings of malice bubbling back to the surface.

True, he said he was on Syn’s bad side. However, now she had no reason to trust him. On the same end, he’d admitted to having friends in Syn’s group. Lying about Syn’s reaction to him didn’t really make much sense in the light of that admission.

Neena rubbed her eyes, and sighed deeply. Calley had put himself in a complex position, and her as well. On one hand, Syn’s group were the, quote unquote, ‘Bad Guys’. The Xmen’s ‘enemies’. Yet, on the other, Calley had befriended some of them, as in ‘made peace’. Wasn’t that what Xavier wanted? In order to have peace between mutants and humans, didn’t you need to have peace between your own kind? But then there was the possibility his friendship could be used to others at risk again. Could the Team take that chance?

She glanced up at the moon, noting its bright whiteness shining in the dark, like her own eyes from beneath a sea of black. Stars speckled the inky blackness, shining with their own light, instead of the moon’s reflected whiteness. Both bodies gave a different beauty to the night, but which was more beautiful? Didn’t it depend on your perspective? So, which perspective did she have to approach this situation from?

One thing was certain: It couldn’t be her own. She’d made that mistake once already, and, like it or not, she owed Calley an apology for that.

Silently she stood, and made her way back inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several minutes later she padded quietly toward an open door in the Boy’s Hallway. Her glasses sat atop her head, and her near-white gaze came to rest on the back of a hunched over form. She knocked lightly on the doorframe.

”Are you still awake?”

A light knock on the doorframe startled the owl from its perch; in a flash of downy white feathers and a beat of wings, it flew over Calley as he jerked back upright.

>> "Are you still awake?"

"Awake," he repeated, turning on the bed to face the door, and blinking with a minimum of incoherency. "Awake. Yes. I'm awake." He was awake, but it was taking him a long time to figure out how the owl had turned into Neena. Was she really a multi-shifter, too? Wouldn't it be funny if they'd been sharing the same secret all along? Wouldn't it be hilarious if he was the one to come clean, first?

But no, Neena's mutation was something to do with her eyes: it would be a pretty large stretch for her to really be a--

Neena.

Calley's shoulders tensed back, like they were connected by a metal wire that had just been pulled taunt. Now he really was awake. Unfortunately. He tried to ease his initial display of caring into a great-big vacant-stare of apathy, complete with a slide off the bed and back to his feet.

"So." The eighteen year old said carelessly, idly massaging at one of his shoulders. "Luke's gone, huh?" He gave a half-gesture towards the bed. "You can have a seat, if you want. Unless it won't really take you that long to kick me out." He took his own seat on the plain wooden dresser that came standard with these rooms. Besides the bed, there really wasn't any other place to sit. Chairs: if he'd been staying, they probably would have made a nice investment. "You really can spare me the speech and the long-winded reasoning, by the way. Cutting to the chase is fine. I can probably guess at the reasoning, anyway." He gave a shrug, just to show how little he cared about what she was about to say. A shrug, and a slight turn of his head back towards the window.

"Awake. Awake. Yes. I'm awake."

If Neena had to guess, he wasn't. Not fully anyway, to judge by his unfocused eyes.

Abruptly he sat up straight, and his gaze cleared. Now hew was awake. She watched him slide off of the bed, attempting to wipe the expression from his face.

"So. Luke's gone, huh?"

She nodded. "For now. I'm sure he'll be back, though."

"You can have a seat, if you want. Unless it won't really take you that long to kick me out."

In the darkness, Neena's blink resembled a set of tiny flashlights winking on and off. She quietly entered the room and sat on the edge of the pillowless bed.

"You really can spare me the speech and the long-winded reasoning, by the way. Cutting to the chase is fine. I can probably guess at the reasoning, anyway."

For a moment she didn't reply.

Then, quietly, "I'm not sure which speech you want me to skip, so I'll forget them all and ask a question instead. Why are you so determined to not put down roots?"

Calley didn't appreciate being messed with. Looked down on, fine. Patronized, why not. But messed with? It just wasn't fun. Here the Assistant Headmistress was, perched on the edge of his bed, messing with him. Because this, friends, was 'messing':

>> "I'm not sure which speech you want me to skip, so I'll forget them all and ask a question instead. Why are you so determined to not put down roots?"

Calley scowled, his head taking a slump back to rest on his shoulders as his gaze hit the ceiling. He'd forgotten to mention that she could skip the round-about attempts at 'educating' him, too. They were not appreciated. His head swung back down again, and he actually met her gaze. It might be the first time he'd ever done that. Not because of her eyes--the whiteness was startling, but not disconcerting. It was just that he didn't meet people's gazes much to begin with.

"What's the point in putting down roots?" He asked point-blank. One of his feet dug into the side of a dresser drawer, catching the handle and dragging it out: footrest. "No one actually gives a damn about me--only about my powers. That's the whole point of this place, isn't it? If I was just me, I wouldn't even be allowed to live here. If I was just me, I wouldn't be allowed on the X-Men. If I was just me, I could still live with my family--but that'd be a lie, because as soon as you toss powers into the equation, it gets pretty obvious how much they actually cared. Roots are just lies you don't see until they get pulled up."

His gaze shifted over to the window again, or the wall by the window. He didn't want to stare at that moon right now. The dark grayness of the plain white paint was easier to take. "After my dad kicked me out, I spent two years as a cat. A stray cat--I went wherever I wanted. I slipped in with families sometimes, but I never stayed. All their homes just started to feel so... so..." He twitched his shoulders. "Hard to breath in, I guess. Like I could tear up the walls, and still no fresh air would get in."

"I met Isabel in Central Park. I," a brief grin slipped over his face, then died with a shake of his head. "I started playing with that ribbon she always wears, and she ended up letting me follow her back to the Sanctuary. It was the first time I met other mutants. And I thought... I guess I thought that things could be different. That maybe it was just humans that acted that way--maybe mutants were better; maybe they took care of each other. That's how it looked like it worked, at the Sanctuary. So I tried being human again." And he got caught by Hunter Antonescu, in the first few hours. And collared. And sent on his first mission, to spy at the Mansion. Calley cleared his throat. "But it's all just the same, isn't it?" His head stayed facing the wall, but his eyes switched back to the woman, sidelong. "This is just another place I'm going to get kicked out of. It's not me you admitted to the school--it was Caleb Yeldham, tiger shifter and wishing-well of smiling innocence." Sarcasm: it was not possible for a teenager to overuse it. His eyes snapped back to the wall. He took in a deep breath, and let it go--it shook a little coming out. He didn't know why. Except that maybe there was one last thing to say.

"For what it's worth... I felt like I could breathe here."

Calley turned and scowled fully at Neena. It seemed he didn't appreciate her question, and let her know by answering it with a blunt one of his own.

"What's the point in putting down roots?"

She listened without interruption as he explained the light in which he viewed things, or felt others viewed him, and that his mutation made all of the difference in that light. Sad as it was to admit, he was right, at least to a certain extent.

"Roots are just lies you don't see until they get pulled up."

She wanted to ask how they could be lies if they could be pulled up, but held her tongue. She also quickly quelled the residual heat at mention of Isabel and the Sanctuary; her personal issues had no place in this conversation. He still had things to say, and she wasn't going to stop him until he'd finished. And she was glad she didn't, as his revelation of the bit of life spent as a house cat actually clarified quite a bit.

She'd never had a pet cat, but she'd spent quite a bit of time around the big cats of the Savannah. Other than their size, very little differed between the two. Most cats, with the exception of lions, were loners. Yes, they spent time as families, raising cubs and teaching them how to survive. But for the most part, once life lessons were learned to minimal extent, Mother moved on to the next litter, while Brother and Sister went their separate ways. They were family for a while, but they were not close. They were not friends.

Ah.... There it was.

"But it's all just the same, isn't it?" She caught the corner-of-the-eye glare he sent her. One eyebrow twitched slightly. "This is just another place I'm going to get kicked out of. It's not me you admitted to the school--it was Caleb Yeldham, tiger shifter and wishing-well of smiling innocence." He paused, then added, "For what it's worth... I felt like I could breathe here."

She stared at him for a quiet moment. Since he found the wall so interesting, she turned her own gaze in that direction.

"Funny thing about breathing. You don't realize you need to, until you can't."

She could have gone into a number of lovely little speeches right then, about everything from the analytical -- how 'breathing' was symbolic for having friends and family or not being judged -- to the condemnatory -- he should have thought of all of that before registering under a false name or before neglecting to mention his Sanctuary connections or before trying out for the Team. But he had asked her to skip the speeches, hadn't he? All right then.

"I have to apologize to you, Calley," she started quietly. She tilted her body forward to lean an elbow on her knee. "For snapping at you in front of Luke. After the incident with Garrett, any mention of the Sanctuary prods a tender spot in my psyche. I shouldn't have let my personal issues spill out onto you like that, and I apologize for it."

She tapped her teeth with her nail, then bit down on her pinkie nail.

"It seems mutants and humans aren't so different when it comes to things like breathing, are they?"

She turned to look at him, her expression hinting at thoughtfulness.

"You enjoy being a cat more than anything else." It was a statement, not a question.

The wall couldn't take them both staring at it. Calley turned his own head back over his shoulder, finding a spot on the floor near the edge of the bed where Neena sat.

>> "Funny thing about breathing. You don't realize you need to, until you can't."

Funny. Sure. Calley gave a shrug of his shoulders. She'd let him speak on uninterrupted: he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. Now his piece was said, and there wasn't much left to say at all.

>> "I have to apologize to you, Calley."

His head jerked up briefly, then went back to its spot on the floor. His legs came up, and crossed on the dresser. Apologies? Okay. Sure. Why not. This should be interesting.

>> "For snapping at you in front of Luke."

Ah, there it was. The catch. She wasn't apologizing for saying anything: she was apologizing for saying it in front of Luke. He was sorry for that, too. It did suck that she'd risked tainting the other man's view of the Mansion. Though she'd just be tainting it with the truth, so it wasn't the worst thing in the world. Or the most apology-demanding.

>> "After the incident with Garrett, any mention of the Sanctuary prods a tender spot in my psyche. I shouldn't have let my personal issues spill out onto you like that, and I apologize for it."

Great. So he'd been a punching pillow for her own feelings. Her own entirely-unrelated-to-his-situation feelings. Well that just made him feel great on the inside, didn't it? Really loved. Really needed.

>> "It seems mutants and humans aren't so different when it comes to things like breathing, are they?"

He gave another violent shrug, like some people would punch a wall. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. Why? What did he care? Except that Neena was looking at him now, and maybe he had a few more things to say. She'd let him say his piece. He would let her say hers. Because here in Mansion-land, they could do unrealistic things like take turns at life.

>> "You enjoy being a cat more than anything else."

"Yeah. I do." He said, tilting his head back her way to meet her gaze for a moment, then sending it back to its familiar spot on the wall by the window. "And I don't see what's wrong with that. It feels right, it feels safe, and I was happy while I was doing it." He gulped in a breath of air, trying to give his heart something to pump. Something to shut it up. Why was it so loud? He wasn't exactly sprinting around the room, here.

His blue eyes shifted back to Neena's own white gaze, and stayed there. "And thanks for the thought of the apology. I guess. But I'm not going to be able to accept it. Sounds like it wasn't even me you were angry with back there. So while I'm glad I was able to be your punching pillow, I'm afraid that's not my apology. Do you even realize what you just said? You just said that nothing I said to you out there made a difference, except the fact that it involved the Sanctuary. I basically give you my life story, tell you everything I've never felt safe enough to tell anyone, tell you I almost died, tell you I was glad to see you, and the only thing you feel is anger--towards the Sanctuary?" His ears wanted to lay back flat, but this wasn't the form to do it in. His teeth were doing their best job to turn his words into a familiar hiss, however, and the slant of his eyes would have been right at home in a feline's face. "Thanks, Neena. Really. It's good to know just how much you care. It makes it a lot easier to leave. Now are we done here? Because I still need to catch a cab back to my apartment."

"Yeah. I do. And I don't see what's wrong with that. It feels right, it feels safe, and I was happy while I was doing it."

Neena could have been blind herself, and still felt the heat in Calley's momentary glare. That was the second time he'd met her eyes within a few minutes, more than she could remember his ever allowing before.

And then he turned for a third time, this time holding the stare.

"And thanks for the thought of the apology. I guess. But I'm not going to be able to accept it. Sounds like it wasn't even me you were angry with back there. So while I'm glad I was able to be your punching pillow, I'm afraid that's not my apology. Do you even realize what you just said? You just said that nothing I said to you out there made a difference, except the fact that it involved the Sanctuary. I basically give you my life story, tell you everything I've never felt safe enough to tell anyone, tell you I almost died, tell you I was glad to see you, and the only thing you feel is anger--towards the Sanctuary?"

The longer he spoke, and angrier he got, the more feline his features appeared. She had a feeling that, had he been in tiger form, ears would be lying flat, teeth bared, and claws extended. Possibly even hissing.

"Thanks, Neena. Really. It's good to know just how much you care. It makes it a lot easier to leave. Now are we done here? Because I still need to catch a cab back to my apartment."

For what seemed like hours, but might have only been a few seconds, she held his gaze. Finally, she sighed, and dropped her eyes.

"You're right," she replied quietly. "I was wrong to judge. The bits about the Sanctuary angered me. But its personal, and my own stupidity to deal with. You have every right not to accept my apology, and to continue to be angry with me in turn. I'm not going to argue that."

She looked back up at him, a bit of sadness in her expression, and her brow knitted together in a small frown. ”But don’t you dare take that to mean I don’t care about you, Caleb Swartz. Or Calley, or whatever you want to be called. I care about every member of my family.”

She wanted to get up and hug him, but she wasn’t sure how he’d react to any sort of embrace at that moment. He was so angry at her. She settled for middle ground, reaching out to place a hand on his knee, half expecting to get a set of claw or bite marks across her arm.

She did the staring thing again. Just like she did out on the front lawn. Only this time, he was able to meet her eyes without fidgeting. Maybe it was because of that, or maybe it was because of actual duration, but this time it felt much quicker between when she locked gazes and when she looked away. And by look away, he meant her eyes actually dropped. It seemed a somehow foreign look for Neena: dropped eyes.

Unfortunately, she just didn't get it.

>> "You're right, I was wrong to judge. The bits about the Sanctuary angered me. But it's personal, and my own stupidity to deal with. You have every right not to accept my apology, and to continue to be angry with me in turn. I'm not going to argue that. But don’t you dare take that to mean I don’t care about you, Caleb Swartz. Or Calley, or whatever you want to be called. I care about every member of my family.”

He watched with narrowed eyes as her hand left its own territory, and started to move dangerously out into the gap between them. He wasn't quite sure where it was going, or what its intentions were. His shoulders tightened as its arc began to descend. The destination became clear well before its arrival. He watched it settle. Felt its slight weight coming to rest on his knee, pressing the fabric of the pants against his skin. How was he supposed to respond to that?

He was her family? Sure he was. Then why was he getting kicked out?

...Had she actually said anything about kicking him out?

And her apology! What was with that? She just didn't, in any way, shape, or form, understand what he was trying to say.

Probably like he didn't really understand her.

He stared down at the hand, like it was some alien creature come to roost. Really, what was he supposed to do with it? It wasn't edible. It was warm, though. Even through the heavy fog on his senses, he could feel that.

He left it where it was, and turned his gaze back to its comfortable spot on the wall. His shoulders deflated, much like his tone. "I don't want your apology. I don't want you to be angry with the Sanctuary--I want you to be angry with me. Or maybe just, if I say something like 'I'm glad to see you', you could say 'I'm glad to see you, too'--or 'Welcome home'."

He glanced back at the hand, then her face. Maybe he should apologize, too. Maybe. His mouth opened, but what came out wasn't what he'd expected. "Would you like to see my cat form? My first one. It's my favorite, of everything I can be." A slight blush of color crept up his neck to his face. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He wasn't a little kid, and this wasn't show and tell. Why would she want to see? Hand or not. Family or not.

Calley stared at her hand like some people would stare at a snake, or a spider. He didn't pull away, though. Or lash out. In fact, his reply put her in the mind of blow-up scarecrow prop; slowly collapsing in on itself as the air slowly seeped out.

"I don't want your apology. I don't want you to be angry with the Sanctuary--I want you to be angry with me."

That actually managed to baffle Neena, and it might have shown in her eyes and facial expression. Possibly because her mind didn't work like most, 'anger' just didn't seem appropriate for this situation. As far as Calley was concerned; grumpy, annoyed, irritated, a bit disappointed, a bit more exasperated and more than a bit confused.... any of those applied to how she felt toward him personally at that moment. But not anger.

"Anger, and hatred, only apply to enemies...." she commented, though her soft words might have been lost to his next ones.

"Or maybe just, if I say something like 'I'm glad to see you', you could say 'I'm glad to see you, too'--or 'Welcome home'."

She sighed. He had her there. She'd been too preoccupied with other matters to voice that simple of a truth.

"Would you like to see my cat form? My first one. It's my favorite, of everything I can be."

Even in the dark, there was no mistaking the genuineness of her smile, and she nodded. "Yes, I would like that that. If-" and she removed her hand from his knee enough to hold up a restraining finger, "-it won't push you too far. Living through a death match deserves time to heal."

>> "Yes, I would like that that. If--it won't push you too far. Living through a death match deserves time to heal."

Calley ran a hand through his short hair, before giving a nod. "I think it'll be okay. It's not the basic shifts that put my head through a blender during that fight. That... that was the power growth that I mentioned." He gave a small, it's-nothing-big shrug. "Apparently, I can be more than one thing at once, now--like a tiger and a human. But if I don't keep them all in contact, then the other forms can't move. If I do keep them in contact.." A lazy grin came over his face, as his eyes focused on something not in the room. "It's awesome. I can see through all their eyes, and I can smell with all their noses, and--and did you know how different birds see color? Sparrows are beautiful to other birds, and mice hear at different frequencies than dogs, but if I have them both out at once than I can--"

He came back to himself, with a blush. "Err, it's pretty much awesome. But that's what I can't do now; I haven't been able to do it again since the fight. For awhile, I couldn't even do the basic shifts, either--but those are back online now. I, uh, don't know if Luke happened to mention it, but I shifted to tiger in front of him earlier in the night. That's, ah, how he knew I was a mutant." A minor giveaway, that.

He paused to reply to any questions she might have. Then he uncrossed his legs, keeping them up on the dresser. "So, umm, for the cat form: here goes."

It would look very much as if his clothes had collapsed in on themselves in an untidy heap. The heap twitched, batted at the sides of its sudden cage--and, with an irate shake, a triangular head shoved its way out of the shirt's collar. Its ears sprang forward as they worked past the material. A shake, a wiggle, and freedom; the cat turned to level a coolly superior, 'thou did defy me, and thou were pwned' glance at the smothering pile of clothing. Then, with a sudden resurgence of understated dignity, it sat down on the dresser top, delicately licked that back of one paw, and began to tame the ruffled fur on its head with long, practiced strokes. The tongue worked to make quick order of its chest, both shoulders, and the thin lengths of its forearms, as well. Only when it was properly presentable again did it acknowledge the woman on the bed. Its head raised in her direction, and its baby blue eyes blinked with all the typical inscrutability common to Felis domesticus.

It was a small cat--only about the size of a nearly-grown kitten, and unlikely to ever get larger. Its fur was white with black spots here and there, and a black tail. Its wiry muscles moved under its short, well-groomed fur with the understated confidence of an accomplished mouser. And pigeoner. And sparrower, rater, and generalized answer to all your typical plague and pestilence carriers. This wasn't just his favorite form--this was the one that Calley felt the most comfortable in. The cat's rapid heartbeat was the tempo at which he naturally moved. Its tail flicked, as independent of an entity as the cat itself. Even his human form didn't settle this naturally around him. If he had a soul, it was in the shape of a cat.

A slight shift of the muscles in its back legs was all the warning Neena would get. Then, in a soundless burst of movement, the little cat effortlessly arced through the distance between them. Landed in the Assistant Headmistress' lap. Sat down, with its whiskers fully fanned towards her face, and its blue eyes smugly confident for the results of any appraisal she wished to give. Purrrrrr, its little chest rumbled.

Neena listened to Calley wander off momentarily, into his own world. All anger and frustration aside, he really seemed like a different person. Yes, he was proud of his accomplishments, and rightfully so if she understood him correctly. But it seemed to be the sheer possibilities and revelations that really had him captivated.

"Err, it's pretty much awesome." He trailed off, and she could see his face flush a bit, even in the dark.

"But that's what I can't do now; I haven't been able to do it again since the fight. For awhile, I couldn't even do the basic shifts, either--but those are back online now. I, uh, don't know if Luke happened to mention it, but I shifted to tiger in front of him earlier in the night. That's, ah, how he knew I was a mutant."

"He did," she replied simply, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Luke hadn't been specific, but she could only imagine his reaction to a tiger burglar. Or, sick dog liberator.... A cat rescuing a dog, while squaring off against a blind man? Now there was irony......

"So, umm, for the cat form: here goes."

Neena pulled back to watch quietly. The 'shift' occurred without fanfare, with Calley's head disappearing from sight within the clothing. The small feline emerged from his encumbrance with the grace of a butterfly leaving its cocoon. However the superior feline attitude remained perfectly intact as it began to repair the damage done by the offensive clothing.

She had, barely, enough warning to cup her hands before the little creature landed in her lap, low thunder coming from his chest. He exuded confidence and pride that she couldn't really equate with the Calley she knew. Briefly she wondered if the cosmos had mixed up its genes at some point, and put Calley in the wrong body at birth.

"Well now," she began. "This explains the purring Tigger quite eloquently. You make a very handsome young Tom."

She held her hand out, palm up, near his nose. Because everyone knows that you cannot simply began petting a cat. Any cat, mutant or not. Oh no. You must first ask permission, and let the feline decide how gracious he was feeling.

>> "Well now. This explains the purring Tigger quite eloquently. You make a very handsome young Tom."

This certainly did nothing to decrease the volume of his rumble. It did nothing to increase it, either. The only tell of the cat's rapidly swelling pride was a slight curl at the tip of its black tail: curl, and back down.

And then there was a hand being offered to him, a respectful distance from his noble face. One thing was rapidly becoming clear in Calley's mind: the Assistant Headmistress knew how to treat a cat. Being a benevolent cat, he deigned to reward her for aforementioned knowledge.

With a stretch of its neck, the small white cat shoved the side of its face into the woman's up-turned palm, and rubbed it along with an additional purr. Where her palm met her wrist, his head curved around, coming up from under the hand to give it a sound and demanding bop. Her request for his royal audience had been granted: Neena could pet him, if she so wished.

He couldn't actually talk in this form--not with his chimeraing still offline, in any case--but he did not actually foresee that being a problem. A cat has many ways through which to speak.

(OOC: Sorry its a bit short. My mind suddenly went blank. ><)

With permission granted, Neena began scrritching the gracious feline's chin, and behind his ears.

"So, two years in this form, was it? I can believe that. I'm surprised you went two-legged again."

The kitten's rumbling purr reminded the Masaai woman of the rainstorms moving over her home savannah. In the back of her mind, 'Tigger' was replaced with 'Ngurumo', the swahili word for thunder.

"And you're telling me that this little black-and-white bundle of attitude...." She paused, then corrected herself by adding, ".... in various other forms, has been wandering around the city, causing havoc for certain individuals?"

Maybe 'Watundu', or perhaps 'Anansi', would be more appropriate, as Calley seemed to have a knack for mischief-making.

Calley stretched his chin upwards, allowing this woman the honor of more properly scritching him.

>> "So, two years in this form, was it? I can believe that. I'm surprised you went two-legged again."

His half-lidded eyes gave a lazy blink, and his tail a flick to the left, then the right. It was an ambiguous answer, made to represent... and ambiguous answer. Honestly, he wasn't quite sure why he'd gone two-legged again. Especially not when there were women who knew how to scratch behind his ears like this.

>> "And you're telling me that this little black-and-white bundle of attitude.... in various other forms, has been wandering around the city, causing havoc for certain individuals?"

For that: a mere Cheshire grin, followed by a brief mrawk! squawk as he settled comfortably into a curled seat on her lap. More than she knew. More than she knew...

His rumblings continued, his eyelids slipping down. Only a thin glint of moonlight off reflective orbs showed them to still be open at all. This was... nice.