>> "I see, well it was quite something. Did you also hear about how it got crashed?"

Slate gave a simple nod. "Indeed. It would be rather hard not to have heard. It is disappointing that I was not able to join the defense." Namely, because his body--and Calley--had been the cause of the offense. They had been in the form of an inelegantly overgrown crow at the time to mask their identity, but it was still tasteless. Why Calley had chosen the day of Raina's birthday party to pull his little thieving stunt was beyond reasoning.

Slate blinked. She had a smile that could act as a flashlight. Or perhaps a mirror. He attempted to see himself in the brilliancy of her white teeth, but her lips were rather interfering with their attempts at speech.

>> "That's good, because quite frankly, I'm comfortable here too."

As she turned to face him, he shifted slightly, allowing both of them to be marginally more comfortable. His questions earned laughter. Curious. Apparently asking a woman her age was the proper way to defuse an irritable situation: this was something he would have to remember.

>> "Okay, slow down. I'm 21, yes I'm a natural blonde, and I think you are... flirting with me. ...Now, it's my turn. How old are you?"

"Huh," he stated simply, with a blink. "So this is what flirting is? I had imagined it would be less like a fight, somehow." Flirting was a very serious topic in the whispered conversations of his Mansion classes; he had observed it many times while taking notes, and heard it spoken of. It was the fact that she had not either hit him or walked off in a huff that had clued him in, and now the fact was confirmed: yes, apparently this was flirting. Apparently flirting allowed him to be rude without repercussions. Slate was learning much about social graces this morning. "To answer your question: I am eighteen." Technically speaking, eighteen. Even more technically speaking, he was less than two years old. Technicalities were best left unmentioned: this is something he had learned at a previous date.

Her face was rather close to his. With her facing him now, the space between them felt somehow... expectant.

"What is your ability?" He asked, in an attempt to fill it.

Leila nodded, knowing exactly how he must of felt after hearing those news. "I know what you mean. I was there in the middle of it, but I couldn't do anything. I'm not exactly good at fighting yet." she admitted, "I must say I don't even know how to use my Mutation correctly out of water... I don't even know if I have anything I can do out of water." she admitted. Wow, where did this big confession come from anyway?

Anyway, as she watched him, she felt a hint of awkwardness in the pit of her stomach. Not exactly butterflies, more like little flies. Was this normal? The two had just met and they hadn't really gotten along until now... Well, now they just seemed like siblings. Small bickering, talking as if they'd known each other for a long time. Yes, definately sibling love. But wait, they were actually flirting. Now that wasn't typically brother/sister things.

"You know, signs of flirting usually appear when two people fight. I mean, fighting for no good reason, that's not exactly..." she drifted off, not exactly sure what she was saying. When Leila didn't know something about flirting or boys, it was time for a reality check. Then he announced his age, yes definately close to Sam's. She didn't really know Sam's age, but she knew he was younger then she was, maybe twenty, nineteen?

"Hold up, it's my turn to ask the questions! You had you're turn... I still have two more to ask." she smirked, "But since you asked, I can turn into a Dolphin, I haven't done it in ages though.... seriously." she bit her lip, wondering what was the best way to ask the question boiling inside her. "So, for my question... Are you busy this Saturday?" she asked, her expression emotionless.

>> "I know what you mean. I was there in the middle of it, but I couldn't do anything. I'm not exactly good at fighting yet. I must say I don't even know how to use my Mutation correctly out of water... I don't even know if I have anything I can do out of water."

Slate raised an eyebrow as she continued to speak. And continued. And continued. While it was useful to have nearly complete details of her helplessness on land--or it would be, if he had been planning to trounce her in a fight--it was also somewhat... odd. Where had that rather large confession come from? Did he look that trustworthy? Was it the baby blue eyes?

>> "You know, signs of flirting usually appear when two people fight. I mean, fighting for no good reason, that's not exactly..."

Slate's chin straightened itself authoritatively. "No good reason? You," he pointed a finger towards her chest, "were in my seat." The past tense, actually, was not appropriate. She was still in his seat. He simply did not mind it so much, now that he was, as well. Furthermore, he had the part of the seat which contained the couch back; clearly the superior half of the cushion. Let none deny it.

>> "Hold up, it's my turn to ask the questions! You had your turn... I still have two more to ask."

"I had not been aware that we were keeping track," Slate replied levelly, in a voice that may as well have said, now I will start counting. Her smirk was disconcertingly non-offense: the flirting continued. It was a reciprocal process, it seemed.

>> "But since you asked, I can turn into a Dolphin, I haven't done it in ages though.... seriously. So, for my question..."

Slate gave a nod. He suspected what was coming; really, there could be nothing else. Naturally, she would now ask about his own ability. His own ability was healing; yet Calley's ability was shifting, and that was the ability that they were better known for around the Mansion. He would have to mention it. Being a shifter herself--and an annoying one--she would no doubt ask for a demonstration. A demonstration would require allowing Calley to take dominance of their mind again, and when that happened--well, that was the end of that. Slate braced himself for the inevitable.

>> "Are you busy this Saturday?"

"I am a healer--I... Saturday?" This was not what he had expected. This was not what he had braced for. Slate was left blinking, a foreign expression on his face: so this is what it was like to be 'dumbfounded'. Saturday. What did Saturday have to do with anything? "I did not have anything planned, no. There is a thirteen year old that occasionally criticizes for this lack of forward planning. Why do you--?" 'Ask' died on his lips in the wake of a flash of realization. The realization was this: that had not been dumbfounded. This was dumbfounded.

"Are you asking me on a date?" He asked, his tone that stunned stutter of a man desperately seeking clarification. "You did. You asked me on a date. I... You are a woman. I am supposed to ask you on a date. That is what everyone says. You cannot just... assume the role of the dominant sex." A shy music telekinetic in his English class had been asked out by the girl he liked just last week; it had been a thoroughly emasculating experience, judging by the laughing reactions of his friends. Particularly since the boy in question had apparently turned an interesting shade of white and run away without answering the girl. The point remained, however:

"Yes," he declared resolutely, meeting her gaze levelly. "Yes, I am busy this Saturday. I am taking you on a date." Not the other way around. Just to be clear. Slate had enough social problems without having every teenage boy in the school laughing at him like they had laughed at that telekinetic.

"...Where are we going?" He asked, with somewhat less testosterone.

Leila laughed, "Okay, maybe it was a good reason for you." she smiled. "You got you're seat now, and a pretty blonde to go with it." she smirked, "If you only want you're seat, I could gladly leave." she said, flipping her hair a little as she said the last word. But no, she wasn't going to leave, not now that this conversation was actually getting somewhere useful. She could get that guy on her good list and maybe get some favors out of him in return?

Her smile widdened when her question clearly caught him off guard. She waited through his jabbers, and then he caught on. "I know, but no way you were going to ask me! And...Dominant? What, you think men is better? 'Dominent'? Seriously, Women are Waaay tougher....." she said, but the rest of her speech was lost.

"Awesome!" she said, in a slightly higher octave. "Actually, I was thinking you could decide.... I haven't really gone out with any guy since.... I moved here about three month ago." she admitted, yeah the guy magnet hadn't been able to ofically go on a date for three month! Usually, she'd have ten dates in three months... Probably more but who's counting?

"Basically, I don't know many good places." she said.

>> "Okay, maybe it was a good reason for you. You got you're seat now, and a pretty blonde to go with it. If you only want you're seat, I could gladly leave."

She flipped her hair as she said this. He recognized the gesture as being part of a woman's instinctive courting ritual, but he was not entirely certain what the proper male response was. His eyes followed the motion. It was somewhat entrancing, like a differential equation. Chaos theory in motion: if her fingers had been just slightly to the right, how would the path of the hair have changed? Fascinating follicle mathematics.

>> "I know, but no way you were going to ask me! And...Dominant? What, you think men is better? 'Dominent'? Seriously, Women are Waaay tougher....."

Slate gave a small snort. "Statistically speaking, men average at a larger physical size and strength. Women appear to have a slightly higher pain tolerance, but in intelligence, the general population of males and females is matched; however, the vast majority of the more brilliant minds in history--Einstein, Socrates, Da Vinci; need I list more?--have been male. Women," Slate concluded, his evidence stated, "are not 'waaay tougher." He gave her a sympathetic look. "It is not your gender's fault, actually. It is your species. Amongst most birds and insects, females are the 'tougher' gender." And amongst human females, Slate had a statistically better chance of being larger, stronger, and smarter. He was not being a misogynist; he was being a statistician. There were, of course, exceptions. Particularly amongst the mutant subspecies.

>> "Awesome!"

Her voice rose octaves like a musical instrument. He blinked in surprise. He had not been aware that vocal chords could do that quite so suddenly, outside of puberty.

>> "Actually, I was thinking you could decide.... I haven't really gone out with any guy since.... I moved here about three month ago. Basically, I don't know many good places."

Her tone carried a distinct sense of admitting to something embarrassing. Now was probably not the time for Slate to admit that he had never been on a date at all. He had been a bystander to Calley's dates, but that was all. Quantitatively speaking, Leila had much more experience on her side. He felt his cheeks growing slightly hot with his own embarrassment; it was not a particularly 'dominant' feeling.

"Good places," he repeated, with uncharacteristic stupidity. "I..." His mind flashed through recent events, searching for any place he had been, anything he had done, that would suffice for a date. His only experience was Calley's, and he suspected strongly that the kind of dates that Calley went on were not normal. His mind finally grasped onto something that had happened the day before Raina's party, in the middle of the night; he had met the music teacher and a wolf girl in the Mansion's infirmary. The music teacher. Slate did not particularly like--

"Would you accompany me to the orchestra?"

--music. No, Slate did not really care for that noise, mostly. So why had he said that? Why? His face continued to brighten with crimson. There appeared to be an inverse relationship between a man's intelligence and a woman's proximity. He felt like someone should have warned him of that.

Leila frowned as she traced his look. It landed on her hair, for some reason, the movement had made him thoughtful. Why was that? Was it, non-American like? Leila was certainly not American, she had been brought up in Canada, then traveling the world until her Nineteen Years. She had gone back to Canada to study Marine Biology, and only three months ago had she transfered here to do her final year of courses.

Truthfully, she had NO idea what Women did around here, was it so diffrent from Canadian ones? Did Males react diffrently to things? She knew in France and England they sometimes did. But those Men were French and English! Major diffrence.

"Right, you got me." she said, trying to find something Female were better at, something that would screw up Slate's little Theory. Then she started laughing when he spoke about females. "Species? So you consider us as Birds or Incects?" she laughed some more, "Wow Slate, ladies must really like you." she gave him a teasing grin. Actually, some girls might not like him, but Leila did. There was nothing offencive about what he had said, it was plain truth.

She knew it too.

She watched him carefully as he dug through his mind for places to go. Leila expected this kid hadn't been on manty dates before. Finally she saw his face level to hers again. "The Orchestra?" she said, an air of exitement in her voice. "Sounds like fun, Iv'e only been to one in my life. I don't even think it was a real one either... Sure, that sounds great." she smiled at him. Somehow, he didn't seem the Musical Type.

Then he face started changing shades. What had she done? Was it something she'd said?

>> "Species? So you consider us as Birds or Insects?"

His mouth opened to answer, then shut as her question drowned under the wave of her laughter.

>> "Wow Slate, ladies must really like you."

There was that face reddening again. It was not really a pleasant sensation, was it? "I am quite popular among the women in my biology class," he retorted, in a for-your-information-thank-you tone; "...as a lab partner." He generally was left to write the lab report alone, after the experiment had ended. It was just as well: he did not trust them to handle it. Statistically speaking, women began to lag behind men in math and science at around this age, or even earlier. Slate liked how 'A's' looked at the top of those reports, written in red pen; he also liked the comments the teacher would write sometime, validating his efforts with a word or two and a profusion of exclamation points. He liked, also, knowing that the words were entirely for him. His lab partners did not seem to mind him hogging the write-up and resultant praise all to himself.

>> "The Orchestra? Sounds like fun, I've only been to one in my life. I don't even think it was a real one either... Sure, that sounds great."

The clear and bright enthusiasm in her tone told him two things: one, that he had made the correct choice in locations. Two, that it had been too late to retract said location as soon as it had left his lips. The orchestra it was, then. Ode to joy.

"Is this Sunday too early?" He asked her. "Would an evening show be appropriate?"

Leila continued on laughing as Slate spoke about Biology. "So-" more laughter, "You like-" laughing, "Biology huh?" finally her laughter ceased, replaced wth a wide smile. "I'm in my Final Year of Marine Biology." she said, "Goes well with my Powers, if you ask me. Ever since I got them, I had a passion for Oceanology." she explained.

Maybe it was just fate, but the two of them seemed to have much more in Common then expected. Not only did they have good dicussions over logical things like 'Men and Women, but they actually both loved Biology? Leila seemed to like this guy more and more, if this date didn't go well, they should at least remain friends, shouldn't they? Anyway, Leila would be ready for anything that wen't on between the two, friendship or relationship.

Then the next question made her think a little, Sunday... This Sunday. "Actually, that fits my scheduale pretty well." she said, "I have to work next Saturday all morning anyway." she smiled at him, so tomorrow they'd have a date then?

There was much laughter at the expense of his Biology class. Slate could not help but wonder if that was a good thing or not.

>> "I'm in my Final Year of Marine Biology. Goes well with my Powers, if you ask me. Ever since I got them, I had a passion for Oceanology."

Slate gave a surprised blink. "Your final year? You are in college--a senior in college?" Well. That... was certainly impressive. He had forgotten the strange gap that existed between grade school and college; it was as if those four years of higher education created a gulf. He felt suddenly... slightly intimidated. Perhaps his comments about superior male intellect had been slightly hasty. For himself, his courses were mixed; in Math and Science, he was in his senior year of high school; in English and other areas, he was in the eleventh grade. This was a fair advancement from last year, when not only had he and Calley not been in school at all, they had actually had only an eighth grade education under their belt. He had studied quite diligently since then. Outside of Mathematics, he was quite distinctly below her own college-educated level.

>> "Actually, that fits my schedule pretty well. I have to work next Saturday all morning anyway."

She smiled at him, and he felt his lips slightly twitching up in response. "Indeed. A date, then. To the orchestra."

He tried to ignore the strange feeling in his stomach. It was alarmingly like Calley had felt, the moment before he had crashed that car.

((ooc: Shall we adjourn this thread for the date? )

(OOC: Yeah, we can do that.)

Leila nodded once, "Yeah, I can't believe it either, next Year I can finally quit my Job at that stupid Café." she grinned, she was glad the days at that place were limited. Leila hated Cofee, but a few days ago, before knowing she'd be living here without having to pay rent, she thought she needed the job. Now, the only reason she worked there, was to get a little extra money in the bank, her Father wasn't really giving her anything anymore; not knowing where she was in the World.

"Anyway, I guess you can have you're spot back now." she muttered, realizing that the two were not fighting for it anymore, but sharing the tiny bit of couch. "You've earnt it." she smirked at him as she got up from the soft, warm place and looked down at him. "I guess, I'll see you Saturday?" she asked, holding on tightly to her book so she wouldn't start babbling and acting like an idiot. WHen Leila rreally liked someone, that tended to happen sometimes. Not with Sam though; that had been a little weird. She liked Sam, she did, but she wasn't so nervous with him.

Yeah, that was probably because the Robbers and Ice Men had gotten to her before the awareness that sher liked Sam did. But for now, the only thing she was concerned about was her date with Slate. How should she do her hair? Her Make-up& Should she go shopping for shoes? A dress? Jeans and a Tank top? Hmmm, so much to think about, so little time. "Alright then," she said, pulling a strand of her blonde hair out of the way. "Um, bye." she finished like that before leaving him, only stopping at the door to look at him once more.

((ooc: Continued in The Symphony and the Sea.))