Sebastian had left the site of the tragic blueberry accident and had been wandering around the tent once again, checking out the progress of the pies as they came out of the ovens and chillers. The scent of freshly baked crusts wafted pleasantly through the tent. Sebastian was humming a tune that had been nagging him ever since he had walked into the tent. Just a childish little song that his mind had dredged up from the catacombs of his memory: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye.

The time was called and the magically amplified voice sparked to life again.

>>>"But we have a special treat for all of you!" ... "In honor of the cultural, racial, genetic, and of course culinary diversity that we have here in this great city, the judges will be picking out one volunteer to be our Guest Judge! This person will give their own, layman's view of the pies allowing us to have a diversity of opinions to consider as we search for our winner!"

It was an interesting idea. The man in the purple suit that had been lurking around the edges of the competition the entire day perked up at this, perhaps in an effort to make himself taller and more noticeable. It seemed that he would have liked very much to be the guest judge. Sebastian gave the smallest of shakes to his head and looked around the crowd to see if he spotted any likely looking candidates for judges, still humming under his breath. Four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie.

>>>"You sir... in the long gray coat!"

There were several. The man in the purple coat briefly looked down at his own coat, hoping that he had worn they grey one. Disappointment was evident on his face.

>>>"No... you sir... with the horn!"

Ah, well that cleared things up. Sebastian didn't see anyone else with a horn, so they must have meant him. Better luck next time, purple coat man. Sebastian trotted up to the announcer's podium, feeling like there were a few too many eyes following his progress. He was used to standing out in a crowd, but it seemed a bit like people who had formerly been politely glancing only out of the corners of their eyes were now abusing their permission to stare. Hadn't they ever seen a mutant before? Maybe it was all in his head. He could have just been feeling jealousy that emanated from others like purple coat man.

Behind the podium stood the two other judges, waiting to introduce themselves to him and explain the judging process before they started. The first judge was a tall man who looked far to thin to be someone who enjoyed pie. He had a ridiculously curled black moustache and a hooked nose that curved to match. He spoke with an accent that seemed too French to be real, “Velcome, monsieur. My name ees Pierre.” The r's were so tightly rolled that they could have been loaded into a musket and used as ammunition during the revolution. “Ici, here ees yourr clipboard.”

Sebastian took it and shook the man's hand, “Nice to meet you. I am Sebastian.”

Judge number two greeted him with a handshake and a smile that was much warmer than Pierre's thin lipped mouth twitch, “My name is Marcie, how do you do?” Marcie was a young woman who was the complete opposite of Pierre; short, round, and completely sincere. She had rosy cheeks and a twinkle in her eye that made it seem like she didn't only enjoy these competitions, but enjoyed life. In contrast to Pierre's starched white button down, she wore a colorful tie dyed teeshirt and her cheerful face was framed by short hair that was as colorfully dyed as her shirt. “The judging is pretty easy,” she explained, pointing to the clipboard, “you just give marks one through five for each of the categories: appearance, taste, and originality. The hard part is only taking a bite or two of each slice of pie. You won't have room to try every one if you eat too much.”

Pierre sniffed, as if he never had that problem, then hurried them along, “Bien, let us started! Vee vill total up ze numbers at ze end.”

With that, they split up and started rotating around the contestants, trying a bite or two of each and marking their clipboards. Sebastian's first contestant was the spatula wielding “Mrs. Jenkins” as his clipboard referred to her. An apple pie sat in front of her. A very traditional choice, but the slapping of the spatula against her hand dared judges to even try marking it down on creativity. Sebastian ate his two bites and had to admit it was very good. He didn't want to mark it too highly, though, in case there were better ones to come. He thanked Mrs. Jenkins and moved one to the blind man's table, one “Luke Jacobs”.

Sebastian wasn't sure what to expect from a pie that combined chocolate, pumpkin, and pecan. They didn't seem like they would go together well, but no matter what the man would be getting high marks in creativity. Sebastian tentatively brought a bite to his mouth with the plastic fork. It was much better than he had expected. The pumpkin provided a slight tang, the chocolate a rich flavor, and the pecans a certain sweetness that wasn't too overwhelming. He could really taste the cinnamon, too. It was very good.

“Mr. Jacobs, nicely done. You've created a truly unique mixture. It's both daring and delicious,” the unicorn judge smiled, even though the man wouldn't be able to see it.

Oh, guest judge gags. Rupert benevolently chose not to roll his eyes. It wasn't the first contest he'd been at that had done this, but it was always... something. Guest judges were wildcards; usually, they ended up gorging themselves on the first few contestants, and then giving lower marks to the others because they couldn't truly stomach another bite. It was like going shopping on an empty stomach versus a full stomach: food sure looks better on the empty stomach. Still, the real judges usually held enough points to preserve the contest's dignity.

>> "And... SIR! You sir... in the long gray coat!"

To be honest, Rupert wasn't even bothering to look at whatever Joe Shmoe they'd singled out; he was brushing a few Oreo crumbs off the edge of his table, and into his hand. Luke had cleaned up his table, and so had Rupert: a tidy work space shouldn't affect the judging, but it usually did. He'd missed a spot, there, though.

>> "No... you sir... with the horn!"

...That got his attention. Horn man pranced up to the real judges, and got his very own My Little Clipboard. Rupert's mouth set into a hard line. Great. Wonderful. So his pie was going to get judged by a freak, was it? He was sure that the taste buds of a Homo superior were just what that panel needed. Right.

Arms crossed, he watched the man's progress around the tent, until it brought him and his horn to the table next door: Luke Jacobs.

>> “Mr. Jacobs, nicely done. You've created a truly unique mixture. It's both daring and delicious.”

Aww, how precious. He even added alliteration into his compliments. Rupert kept up his deadpan stare, daring the man to advance to his own table. Just daring. No doubt the joy of a good Guygasm pie was lost on horses. If he was lucky, though, the freak might just choke at the taste of true quality.

Luke had been somewhat surprised that a mutant had been selected as the guest judge but it didn't bother him. He was a mutant himself but he wasn't going to share that fact in order to try and get extra points or anything. No... it was best to just focus on the baking and leave things at that.

Instead of moving around as a group, the judges all split up and went in different directions. It wasn't the usual way of judging but it worked as well as anything other way so Luke had no complaints. As the mutant judge began to move down the line, Luke found that he was only the second or third pie to be judged.

“Mr. Jacobs, nicely done. You've created a truly unique mixture. It's both daring and delicious."

"Thank you." Luke replied with a slight nod of his head. He had allowed his sonar to extend far enough that he could see the judge, but he hadn't focused the power enough to actually make out expression. Being blind, he was so used to 'hearing' the expression that it didn't really bother him. "I've always been a fan of seasonal ingredients."

Stepping back to allow the judge to move on to Rupert, Luke turned his head in Rupert's direction and nodded to him. It was his way of saying good luck.

(Raina asked me to skip Coraline's turn.)
-------------

>>>"I've always been a fan of seasonal ingredients."

“Indeed.”

With a habitual polite nod in the blind man's direction, Sebastian moved to the next table. The curly haired contestant stared at him with a dead pan expression as the unicorn man stepped up to the plate. His face seemed frozen in a sort of half glare. If he wasn't careful, his handsome face would get stuck that way. Didn't he realize that smiles were much more becoming?

The whipped cream and cookie dusted pie looked very pretty, and he had cleaned up his workspace and made it presentable, but the stare wasn't exactly giving off a welcoming and homey feeling. What was this guy's problem with all the awkward looks, anyway? The unicorn man was starting to get the impression that this particular pie chef was not a mutant fan and was not very well practiced at hiding the fact. There were lots of people like this curly haired pie chef in the world, and his stare of contempt didn't phase the horned pie judge. He'd seen it a million times before.

Sebastian took a small forkful of the contemptuous man's chocolate mousse looking pie and put it in his mouth. The taste was... heavenly was hardly an adequate description, but there were no words in any languages that Sebastian knew that could adequately describe it. Heavenly would have to do unless someone could manage to invent a single word to convey the magnificence of the taste.

When freaks take a hard glare in stride, it only increases a zealotmancer's natural powers. The disapproving air around Rupert was rapidly charging for a strike. The hair on the back on his neck bristled, like a dog's. The little cuts from the glass manipulator's death throes earlier in the day, forgotten over the familiar meditation of a good pie's creation, marked out points of fire on his skin.

And then the freak did it: he put a bite of Guygasm pie in between his lips. The angels rang out in immaculate chorus. Down from the heavens descended Rupert's smirk.

"Good to see that even mutants have taste," he sniped. Some of them, anyway.

Eight simple words...

Suddenly, everything became clear for Luke. He had wondered exactly why Rupert seemed so hostile toward the new judge but then, at the same moment that a heavenly chorus erupted in the man and mutants ears that were sharing the experience of a guygasm pie, the power of enlightenment struck Luke. Rupert didn't like mutants. In fact, from his stance and the obvious snide remarks he was willing to take it even a little farther. Rupert must despise mutants!

Just eight words...

Rupert had been around during the camps. There was no question that with his previosu working experience he must have been doing something during the camps and with his obvious distaste for mutants it only made sense that he had been at the camps. Perhaps one of the guards that had made things so difficult for the mutants. There was really no way to be completely sure.

It was like a death toll...

Luke was always on the lookout for friends. He was always out to find someone else that he could depend on and that he could help if the situation arose. A part of him now screamed that after this baking contest it would be best to keep his distance from the man while another part of him said that perhaps Rupert could be convinced. After all, not all mutants were evil. Sure there were bad apples out there on both sides. What would humans call 'The Boston Strangler' or 'The Manson Family'? They were bad apples but that didn't mean that all humans were bad. Neither did the actions of a few mutants mean that all mutants were evil either.

"Sound's like you've got a winner over there." Luke spoke up, trying to keep his voice light in order to diffuse the situation at least a little. Perhaps the judge would overlook Rupert's snide remarks or maybe, just maybe, Luke would have to step in and break up a fight. There was really no telling.

Oh how the atmosphere changed with just eight simple words...

Coraline would have complained about being bored while waiting for the winner to be announced but the truth was she was so fixated on the man with the horn. He'd been selected as a judge and had been inspecting all the pies. That would be a job. Coraline would love that job. She was a bit cold and wet and she was very hungry, but Coraline wore a contented face as she watched the man move about. There was something funny about him. She wasn't sure if he was young or old. She wasn't sure if she'd met him before or if she didn't. It was quite the possiblity since she couldn't seem to remember her past...

She was feeling tired and bent down to rest her elbows on her knees- she tried to stay out of the cold mud. She felt nice watching the man with the horn- nice like family. Maybe he was her friend. Maybe he was a time traveller like her. She'd met others back home- she remembered that much. But if he could poof around why didn't he do it yet?

She continued watching with a lulling air of exhaustion and hunger but mostly of infatuation and intrigue.

>>>"Good to see that even mutants have taste."

This sarcastic comment from the curly haired chef was accompanied by a smirk so full of scorn that even Chuck Norris would have been intimidated.

Neither the smirk, nor the sarcasm had any effect on the unicorn man. The words fell upon his like rain on the back of a duck, and simply rolled off. The upturned lip that was a smile and yet wasn't a smile bounced off of him like a child off of a trampoline.

The power of the pie was greater than the power of the smirk. Even Chuck Norris would have agreed, and Chuck Norris doesn't agree; he makes up his mind and everyone else aligns their opinions with his to avoid his wrath and his roundhouse kick. Chuck Norris was a guy, after all, and guygasm pie could do funny things to a guy...type... person. Chuck Norris might even have stared into Rupert's glare, canceling out all hatred within him with the power of his love for the pie.

Sebastian was not Chuck Norris, though, and the best he could manage was a glossed over look of absolute adoration for the creator of the heavenly masterpiece.

Then, the unicorn man swallowed and the spell began to dissolve like cotton candy on a child's tongue. Where was he again? Oh right, at a pie judging contest. And he wasn't allowed to eat more than one bite of each type. Shame. It had been pretty good.

The girl with the green coat was staring at him again. The unicorn man noticed her gaze before he noticed the curly haired chef's. “You should try this,” he told her and handed over the plate that had an entire piece minus one bite on it. Heavenly music might not wash over her taste buds, but she should still enjoy it.

Unlike Chuck Norris, Rupert was still just a fallible man.

>> "Sound's like you've got a winner over there."

"You're right, Luke," he said, with the serene calm of a man very close to wasting a good gaygasm pie in the face of a freak, "there is a winner." He nodded towards the proud table of Mr. Luke Jacobs. He stepped out from behind his own table, at the same time. "It's occurred to me that I've got business elsewhere," he excused himself, in a generically polite way.

As he passed the freak, his voice lowered to a tone that only the horned man and someone with superior hearing would catch: "And I don't want any damn victory if it comes from the likes of you. Why don't you take the pie home, after you're done judging." The 'choke on it' was implied, in his chill tone.

He glanced at the young girl in passing. "You might want to stick closer to your parents, sweetheart. There's some bad men in the world."

And with that, Rupert Kelley was limping towards the exit of the contest tent. His breath wheezed in his chest. He'd killed a freak less than four hours ago. He'd looked forward to this contest for weeks. It was supposed to be his chance to relax; to get away from his self-appointed duty. Not to stare into the enraptured face of yet another one of New York's genetically elevated scumbags. Definitely not to cook for them.

He sat down on a park bench outside, running a hand through curly brown hair. There went this day.

For several minutes Luke was silent as his sonar tracked Rupert out of the tent. There was no longer even the slightest question about how the man felt about mutants and now an internal struggle had started as Luke tried to decide how to handle it. Should he just forget that he had ever met Rupert Kelley or should he tried to help him change? It was quite possible that Rupert's opinion were so locked in that he would never change but still Luke refused to accept that someone who could carry on a decent conversation could truly be that far gone. Soon the judgest would be finished tasting all of the pies and then after tallying their scores a winner would be announced. That should give Luke enough time to get out and talk to Rupert for at least a minute.

"Excuse me for a moment." The blind man said with a smile toward the horned mutant as he reached over and picked up his cane, "I'll be right back."

***

As he made his way out of the tent, Luke's mind was racing on exactly how he could explain havign found Rupert since he was blind. He'd have to ask someone. Yeah, that would do it. Obviously he could have heard Rupet's pronounced limp and that would have been enough information to hopefully get him pointed out. Finally assured of his story Luke slowly moved his cane back and forth as he made a bee line for the bench where Rupert had taken a seat.

"Whoops... sorry about that." Luke said as he gently bumped the end of his cane against one of Rupert's legs, "Rupert? You doin' OK?"

Coraline had been as close to the contestants as she could possibly be when the judging began. She was in completle shock when the horned man she had been enthralled with turned around and handed her the plate of chocolate pie. The very chocolate pie she'd been oogling all day. Her mouth watered and her eyes lit up. She hadn't eaten all day. "really mister? For me?" she felt a huge confliction between her attracting to the pie and the attraction to the man. She wanted to just stare up at him for a while but the urge to eat the pie was overhwelming so she eagerly took the plate from him and put a forkfull into her mouth.

She was silent for a moment and then she was sniffling. "Wow..." she mumbled suddenly feeling very homesick. "That's the best pie I ever tasted." she quickly ate the rest like an animal who was afraid some other creature might come along and steal her food.

Though she was feeling a bit whiney and cry-e Coraline still did her best to wear a smile. She'd been here before. She knew it was only a matter of time before she remembered where she was from and where she was going. Then she could go back. But currently standing next to the horned man made her feel a lot less lonely... and a lot warmer. She turned her face up to him and gave him a big toothy smile. "Thanks!"

It was then that the baker of the pie that she'd been so interested in apparoached them. She watched his face searching it for any simulatiries in her mind. She didn't have a good feeling anymore and as the man leaned closer to speak she found herself backing away into the man with the horn. He said something to the man with the horn but Coraline couldn't hear it. Then he glanced at her and spoke

""You might want to stick closer to your parents, sweetheart. There's some bad men in the world."

The sheer surprise of him paying her attention caused her to take another step backward and this time very innocently as a child she reached up and took the horned mans hand. She was scared and at least he was like her. She didn't look up at him however, she just stared ahead as the angry pie maker walked away. "I didn't think someone who made such yummy pie would be so mean." she admitted. "Where I'm from there's no one like him. Just people like us." she said it matter-o-factly like a big sister trying to convince herself she wasn't scared in the face of a younger sibbling.

>>>"And I don't want any damn victory if it comes from the likes of you. Why don't you take the pie home, after you're done judging."

His tone was chilly. Chilly like a gusty wind fresh from the tundra on an already frigid day, ready bite at every small patch of skin that a person wasn't able to cover with jacket, mitten, scarf, or hat. Sebastian raised an eyebrow. He knew there was a lot of hate in the world, but for so much of it to be concentrated in one man was surprising. The unicorn man felt hurt, perhaps a little, but more than anything he felt sorry for the narrow minded man.

>>>"You might want to stick closer to your parents, sweetheart. There's some bad men in the world."

The young girl in the green coat backed into him, grabbing his hand for comfort. Sebastian squeezed it reassuringly as he watched the curly haired mutant hater limp toward the exit. A stray thought made the unicorn man wonder if he could heal that limp, then wondered if he would even want to do so. It probably didn't matter, since the man would in all likelihood never let him try.

>>>"Excuse me for a moment." The blind man said with a smile toward the horned mutant as he reached over and picked up his cane, "I'll be right back."

Sebastian smiled back at the blind man automatically, even though he couldn't see. Perhaps he went to talk some sense into his friend, or perhaps not. In either case, Sebastian let them go without trying to stop either of them. He had other duties to attend to, including talking to a little girl that seemed more and more alone with every passing moment. And the pie contest judging, though his appetite for pie had been somewhat spoiled. A good helping of hate can sour the taste of any kind of food.

“Here, enjoy,” the unicorn man passed his clipboard to the man in the purple jacket. The man looked as though he could have kissed him, but rushed off to sample a key lime before the urge overwhelmed him.

>>>"I didn't think someone who made such yummy pie would be so mean." she admitted. "Where I'm from there's no one like him. Just people like us."

“I didn't think so either,” Sebastian agreed with the filly, squeezing her hand again ever so gently. “Where are you from? It doesn't seem like you brought anyone here with you today. The angry pie chef may have been mean, but he was right. There are bad people out there and you must be careful.”

The tapping of a cane across the walking path didn’t raise Rupert’s head. The cane tip bumping his leg did. The stripping on it was distinctive, and its meaning clear; that’s the only thing that kept his frown from turning into a misplaced snap. A real man doesn’t take things out a blind guy.

>> "Whoops... sorry about that. Rupert? You doin' OK?"

…Not even if the blind guy was pretty damn competent around a kitchen, by all signs. Rupert’s mouth hung open for a second. Fortunately, Luke Jacobs couldn’t see it.

“You’re blind.” He said dumbly. Then he ran a hand through his hair, with a short laugh. “Sorry—I’d managed to miss that, somehow. I’m not the most observant guy. Here, you want to take a seat? I’ll scoot over.” He’d wasn’t sure whether the verbal cue was necessary, or whether the guy could hear him moving, or what. He tried to slip it in naturally. That probably just made it sound awkward. Frankly, awkward was a good change from the tired loathing that rasped in the rest of his tone. Rupert scooted.

“I’ll be fine,” he forced out, trying to make it amiable. “I’ve just… had to deal with those things a little too much. Hazard of the profession.” Former profession. Sometimes, he forgot he was retired. Collecting a small pension, and a large disability check. He was pretty sure Isabel Duskmoor and the other freaks of the city knew where he wanted to shove those checks. “Sorry if I worried you—I usually don’t snap quite that easy. Not on the pedestrian muties. I was just hoping I could go a few hours without running into one.” He laughed, humorlessly. “Apparently that’s a little much to hope for, in this city. But I knew that already.”

"We all have good days and bad days." Luke said with a slight nod as he took a seat in the area that Rupert had just clared for him, "And besides, there's nothing worse than having to deal with something or someone that annoys you in a place that you thought was basically safe."

Yep, Rupert deffinately had a big issue with mutants. That meant it probably wasn't a good idea for Luke to share the fact that he was really a mutant himself. No, it was far better to just continue the conversation with this man and see if maybe he could change his mind about mutant kind. After all, not all mutants were bad.

"I guess you saw a lot of the worst people out there while you were working on the force." Luke offered quietly as he sat there, apparently staring off into the distance like so many vision impaired people would do, "Both human kind and mutant kind. Some days it hurts to even listen to the news. We can build cages and put away societies baser element, but we have yet to build a prison that's designed to hold the baser side of the mutants."

Beginning the conversation so that it sounded like he was against mutants in general was a good way to start. It was the only way that a man who apparently hated mutants would begin to open up. Of course, once the door of conversation had opened Luke would look for that opportunity to put a new thought into the man's mind. A though that, maybe, just maybe, not all mutants were bad.

Coraline looked up at the man with the horn. She was glad the man with the limp was gone now. "I can keep myself away from bad people." said Coraline matter-o-factly and suddenly in the place where a little child was holding his hand there was nothing but a faint popping sound like a firecracker and black dusty smoke. Coraline was on the other side of him now and took his other hand. She looked up at him with wide almond shaped eyes. "I just go forward and backwards at the same time and then they're gone. I can go anywhere I want." She said with a grin trying her best to impress. Then her grin became a faint smile and borderline frown. "Except home. I never remember how to get back or where it was." she admitted as if he should be able to understand this. "Sometimes it's the past, sometimes it's the future. I have to wait until I remember." she looked grim. "But it's ok for now. I'm here so I can be safe. I'm sure my Mum will come find me one way or another."

She leaned back on her heels a bit and gave a faint whistle. "I'm Cora-line." she said accenting the o so he'd know it wasn't Caroline, or Carolina, or some other variation. "What's your name?"

ooc: It's up to you if it's appropriate for us to keep posting here, if you'd like a new thread, or if you'd rather wait and do one together another time