((ooc: Thread open for two other players, after Leila posts. I'd love to meet some of you fine folks who haven't run into Calley/Slate yet. )

There was a curious expression: 'Time flies when you are having fun.' Slate had never quite understood it, as time was scientifically measurable; outside of the high speeds that broke the line between Newton and Einstein's physics, it was not a particularly relative thing. Yet it had been several weeks since his date with Leila. His first date, in fact, and one that had taken an odd but not unwelcome turn to simple friendship before its end. Friendship, and a rain check for tutoring in basketball. He had meant to call in that check within a few days; a week, at most. But the time--as they say--had 'flown'

They had not really seen each other in the intervening weeks; it was as if they were both traveling in worlds so distinct that their elliptical orbits rarely crossed. The Italian teenager who approached the chilly courts wrapped up in a black coat and a gray scarf did indeed feel rather different than the last time he had been here. This was his first time back on Mansion grounds in over a week. The last time he had been here, he had not been the new leader of the Kabal. The last time he had been here, he had not ordered the deaths of every element within Mondragon Labs that was not loyal to him. These two events were hardly disjoint.

And here he was, white breaths puffing into the air as he looked around to see if the blonde dolphin shifter and Marine Biology major had already arrived. He was going to learn to play basketball, on the courts of the X-Men's stronghold.

It was a curious feeling. The Mansion had not changed; he had. And time had truly flown. When he saw Leila, the small smile on his lips also touched his baby blue eyes. Let the games begin, then. As they say.

Leila was busy throughout the Wintery morning. With Sam as her boyfriend, when she wasn't with him, she was either at work, in the Danger Room, School, or at the Sanctuary. Today, she'd been experimenting with her abilities, trying to sharpen her hearing even more. She was now quite adept with the Mutant life, and knew exactly how to train. She took a quick shower after her Hour of Danger Room fun, then dressed in sweats. In 10 minutes' time she'd be out playing some basketball with Slate, something she'd expected to take place weeks ago. It was now Mid-January, 2 months after their date.

She peered out of her bedroom window, watching the frozen earth. At least there wasn't snow to slow them down. She smiled, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. She slipped on her coat and sneakers, taking her favorite basketball out of the messy closet. "I gotta clean this up a bit." she muttered to herself, mentally putting it on her long list of things to do. She double checked the room, making sure she had everything for an afternoon of fun. She looked once more out of the window, then locked her door behind her.

The walk towards the ground was pretty simple. Kids didn't pay much attention to her, but some really didn't pay attention at all, bumpting into her here and there. "Watch it!" she even yelled as the fourth kid, a boy of about 12, hit her in the arm, making her basketball go flying. "Urgh, kids these days." she whispered, picking up the ball and continuing on her way. She looked at the clock before going out, she was just on time.

"Hey Slate!" she waved at him with her free hand. "It's been so long, I hope you aren't as busy as I am." she laughed, sprinting towards her friend.

The sweat-soaked hand towel dropped into a bin as Shin walked past it towards the locker rooms. He aimed a tired wave at the people in the dojo, relishing the heavy feeling of his arm. His morning had been packed with training reminiscent of The Karate Kid, minus the waxing and the waning. He was still feeling the reverberations. Slipping off his black gi, he set it on the bench by the lockers and reached for his street clothes. A white basketball jersey for the Knicks unfolded in his hands. “Number eleven,” he trailed with a shake of his head. For some reason, that number tickled his funny bone. The shirt tugged down over his head.

A few minutes later, he was dressed. Blue pants and a blue overshirt hung over his white jersey. For some reason this morning, he’d been in a ‘basketball’ mood. The walk to the bus was brief, letting him think as he went. He glanced over at a shop window, where a television broadcast the game.

“Heh.” Maybe he’d check the courts when he got back to the mansion? Someone was bound to… his thoughts trailed off as he got on the bus.

~*~

“Hey!” He grinned as he walked towards the courts. The silhouette of two players a few meters ahead of him told him his guess hadn’t been far off. He broke into a lighthearted dash, coming towards the court from the opposite angle of Leila, then jerking to a stop, doubled over and huffing. “Yo…” Pant pant.

Guess he was still tired from training. Oh well, more training! He grinned up at them, ready to play.

>> "Watch it!"

It was safe to say that Slate heard her coming. He turned to watch the blonde haired woman making her way across the grounds, basketball and all. Ah. That would be useful. Why had he not even thought to bring one? He'd had quite a bit on his mind recently, but that was no excuse for overlooking practicalities. He raised his arm, and gave a small wave back to her.

>> "Hey Slate! It's been so long, I hope you aren't as busy as I am."

He grinned slightly at the sprinting girl as she joined his side. "A bit busy, I fear. Nothing I cannot manage. How about you? How have you been, Leila? You are looking well."

>> “Hey!”

And then there was another presence announcing itself, and joining them with a sprint. Slate blinked at the Asian boy. He had not met him, either around the halls or in classes. A new student?

>> “Yo…”

A student who was in all likelihood taller than Slate was--most mutants tended to be a bit taller than the average Jersey boy--but it was rather hard to tell, given that he was doubled over. Panting. What a curious way to introduce one's self: with a 'Hey', a 'Yo', and a 'pant pant pant'. Slate's eyebrows inched a bit higher in clear amusement.

"Hello," he greeted the newcomer. "My name is Slate. Are you looking for a game? I fear it may not be very good--Leila is going to teach me how to play today." He wondered idly if that was normal: an eighteen year old who really did not have the faintest clue of how to play a common sport. He blamed it upon Calley habitually playing either sick or hookie during his grade school gym classes.

"You are welcome to join us," he added, suddenly realizing that his last statement could have been taken in a 'butt out, new guy' context. "What is your name, if I may ask?"

Leila smiled at Slate as she gave him a one-armed hug. She'd missed this guy a lot, and it was odd that she'd ever considered going out with him. Now that she had Sam, Slate looked more like a younger brother to her. An Obnoxious, yet caring brother. She was about to reply to Slate, when an other friendly voice could be heard -- for her -- very clearly from the other side of the grounds, near the Mansion. She turned around slightly, Leila smiled softly at him, he looked as if he'd just ran ten miles. She dribbled the ball a few times, listening as Slate introduced himself.

"Yeah, you can join us if you want! Though, we may need someone else, so we can play 2 on 2." she agreed. "By the way Slate, this is Shin." she added, seeing her asian friend was still trying to catch his breath. What had he been up to? Sure, he had ran a few feet to get here, but that didn't usually leave someone out of breath. She spun the ball around on her right index finger, looking at the two men with a sly grin upon her face. She had no idea how well Shin could play, but she wanted to find out.

“Heh,” Shin finally caught his breath, snapping back up to salute them both. “Pleased to meetcha. And sure, I’ll play your game. I’ve been craving competition all morning. Don’t worry about me overdoing it, though.” He smiled at Slate. “I’ll go easy on a first-timer.” What kind of gentleman wouldn’t? “I may even teach you a few tricks of my own~”

Now all they needed was that fourth player…

One-armed hug.

Blink.

Slate looked down at the smiling dolphin shifter, surprise clear on his face from the slightly startled look in his baby blue eyes to the way his dark eyebrows had leapt up. His had just been hugged. One-armed. It was a casual gesture, most often observed between close 'buddies' and family members.

He had just been hugged. It was not unpleasant.

Slate smiled at her, and turned his attention back to the man who had just joined them.

>> "Yeah, you can join us if you want! Though, we may need someone else, so we can play 2 on 2. By the way Slate, this is Shin."

>> “Heh, Pleased to meetcha. And sure, I’ll play your game. I’ve been craving competition all morning. Don’t worry about me overdoing it, though. I’ll go easy on a first-timer. I may even teach you a few tricks of my own~”

Slate was found blinking again for the second time in as many minutes as the Asian man saluted them both by way of greeting. That was... curious. He was beginning to hypothesize that Shin was just a curious individual, all around, with an emphasis on 'individual'.

"Thank you, Shin," he replied, "I would appreciate that." He tried not to sound too hesitant about that. Particularly about the man's tricks... just how would he go about teaching those 'tricks'? This was a very different battlefield than the Mondragon Labs Board Room. Suffice it to say that Slate was mildly out of his element.

"While we wait for a fourth player," Slate suggested, looking between the both of them, "could you tell me the basic rules of the game? I suspect that the ball goes through the net, and I have heard that some matter of 'dribbling' is involved." That might have sounded like a joke. It wasn't. That really was about all that Slate knew.

Leila was a bit stunned at his reaction from her hug, and she couldn't help but feel a hot sensation on her cheeks. She hoped he hadn't noticed it, or that it wasn't that bad. What was the problem though? Why was he so startled? Friends couldn't hug friends? The last she'd heard, it was very okay for her to hug her friends. She sighed, remembering how the two had actually started their friendship. Right, maybe she had a boyfriend now, but chances were, he didn't. Did he still remember the date? How strange it had been for them to go as a couple? She smiled back at him however, with a bit too much inoccence lingering in her brown eyes.

Leila simply listened as the two men talked, playing with the ball, dribbling it, spinning it around in her hands. Finally, the conversation turned towards her again. "Basic rules." she said in a professional-like tone. "Well, the point of the game is to get as many shots in your net as possible." she said, knowing he obviously knew that. He wasn't stupid afterall. "Usually, there are five players on a team, but we'll just have a little pick up game, just for fun. So two will be enough for now." she said.

She took a deep breath, "Now, dribbling. A player can only dribble once--" she dribbled the ball, and then caught it in both hands. "--Once both your hands touch the ball, you'll have to either shoot in the basket, or pass it to someone else." she looked at Shin, "Anything you want to add?" she asked the asian man. She shifted her weight slightly, not feeling cold at all, even with the hard, frost covered ground, the wintery breeze and the lack of much sun rays.

“Points awarded for each shot vary depending on the location the shot was taken on the court. For instance, a shot taken from beyond a certain line far enough away from the basket might earn three points. One taken from closer to the net nets you two points. Also, in basketball there is something called a ‘free throw’. These are given to a team when a player on the other team breaks a rule and commits a ‘foul’. They’re usually worth less, but…” He glanced at Leila. “I’ll let you finish explaining the different points awarded for each type of throw Although... maybe we should finish explaining those rules first?"

He stuck his hands in his pockets, warming them as his breath hung in front of his face. Once they got to playing, they’d warm up more. Right now, it was still pretty chilly.

>> "Basic rules."

She said it in a professional-like tone; he gave a professional-like nod to show that his rapt attention was on her instruction.

>> "Well, the point of the game is to get as many shots in your net as possible."

Nod. Yes, he was with her so far.

>> "Usually, there are five players on a team, but we'll just have a little pick up game, just for fun. So two will be enough for now."

He was not entirely sure what a pick up game was, but given the context, he presumed it was the two-on-two she had mentioned earlier. Nod.

>> "Now, dribbling. A player can only dribble once--Once both your hands touch the ball, you'll have to either shoot in the basket, or pass it to someone else. ...Anything you want to add?"

Dribbling, yes. He was familiar with the concept of dribbling. Her demonstration confirmed it: dribbling. One-handed dribbling; only catch the ball with both hands to shoot or pass. Dribbling. Okay.

His attention jack-knifed to Shin, who had begun speaking. He had missed the first few words. Were the first few words important?

>> “--for each shot vary depending on the location the shot was taken on the court. For instance, a shot taken from beyond a certain line far enough away from the basket might earn three points. One taken from closer to the net nets you two points. Also, in basketball there is something called a ‘free throw’. These are given to a team when a player on the other team breaks a rule and commits a ‘foul’. They’re usually worth less, but…"

Nod. Nod nod nod. Small nods. All right; the further one was when one made his or her shot, the more difficult it would be; hence, the points were raised to correspondingly acknowledge the player's skill. This made sense to him. Would a shot from the very farthest end of the court, therefore, yield an even higher point value? It was a question he did not actually ask. He considered it most likely that he would be primarily concentrating upon two point shots.

>> "I’ll let you finish explaining the different points awarded for each type of throw Although... maybe we should finish explaining those rules first?"

Slate turned back towards Leila, his baby blue eyes clearly at attention. Dribble with one hand until one is ready to pass or shot. Points vary with distance. Do not break rules or the other team gets a 'free throw' which, while of low point value, was presumably a bad thing.

He himself was like Shin, with his hands shoved deep into the warmth of his pockets, and his neck snug in the fortress of his slate gray scarf. Leila, like that time on the beach, seemed entirely less affected by the cold air. A side-effect of her marine mutation, no doubt. Dolphins were not well known for their winter coats.

Leila's eyes lingered from one man to the other, both looking so much different from the other. Slate. Leila knew him to be more of the laid back, thoughtful kind, and today was no different. Though, as she looked at himcarefully, he seemed serious and slightly... tired? Not so tired, just enough to show he'd been doing things out of the normal for the past few weeks or so. Curiosity filled Leila's body. Shin. He looked playful and kind. He too was tired, but she could tell it was a different kind of tired. He'd just ended a work out probably.

She was slightly surprised when the spotlight was on her again. Right, points. "Okay, there are two kinds of shots. Free throws, and Field Goals." she started, nodding slowly, letting this sink in. "The Field Goals are worth 2 or 3 points." she pointed at the second point mark, "If you shoot from this line, and score, you will earn your team three points." she paused to point at the other line, closer to the Net. "This, is the line you'll throw at the score 2 points." she said. "Shooting anywhere else is fine, though you'll have the score from the nearest line." she added.

That was about it for the points with Field Shots. "Now, Shin pretty much cleared up what Free Throws are and how they work, but just for the record, they are worth 1 point." she finished. "Is this too much information? I'm sorry I'm going so fast." she sighed, rubbing her hands together absent mindely for warmth. They still had to cover Fouls and Blocking, but they could always play around a bit before finishing up with the rules. "We could always take a break from the rules and actually play some bit. Seriously, I'm not a big fan of standing still and listening, I'm more of the...Hands on type." she said, throwing the ball to Shin.

Shin caught the ball with a snap of his hands, dropping into a dribble with a grin. “Playing sounds good. Some things, you just have to learn firsthand. This may be one of them. All those rules and regulations…” He darted past her, dribbling towards a net to sink a jump shot. “Just swish through some peoples’ heads, y’know?” He retrieved the ball and walked it over to Slate, holding it out for him. “Why don’t you try a bit of dribbling to get a feel for it?”

Free throws. Field goals. Two points, three points, shoot from anywhere, dribble.

>> "Is this too much information? I'm sorry I'm going so fast."

Slate gave a long, slow blink. "No," he replied, "that is all right. I believe I understand. To state things concisely: I should put the ball through the basket, correct? And spend the rest of the time dribbling." He did not truly need the technical terms, and he presumed that one or the other of them would keep track of the exact scoring, not him; therefore, he shifted through the chaff to the wheat.

And blinked again, as Shin easily flew through the air to land a shot. He suspected that was not as easy as his fellow student had made it seem. When the ball was held out to him, he took it. Blink.

>> “Why don’t you try a bit of dribbling to get a feel for it?”

"I suppose I will," he replied, turning his hand to let gravity have its way: the ball fell. As it came back up, he hit it with one open palm, as he had seen the other two do. It bounced again, but somewhat too weakly to reach its former height; he lowered his hand to give it a firmer hit, and took a startled step back as it nearly collided with his face. Blink: the ball was in his hands. Hmm. Reflex catching: good for his face, but if he understood correctly, not so good during a game. He would have to take a shot now, correct? His eyes drifted to the basket. It seemed very far away.

...Fortunately, this was not a true game. He dropped the ball again, and continued practicing this 'dribbling' of which they spoke, in a somewhat more controlled fashion. It was a matter of physics; equal and opposite reactions, and trajectory angles. Perhaps this would not be so bad, after all.

"Until another player arrives," he inquired, his gaze and concentration clearly on continuing to bounce the orange ball, "is there a game that the three of us could play?"

The sun gleamed remarkably today, a nearly cloudless sky hanging above the now official American citizen. It had only been but a week ago that he had arrived in the large city. Towering skyscrapers, blaring vehicles and thousands of people, it was all quite the culture shock for the twenty five year old man from Thailand. Back in his Muay Thai camp, the students would already be crashing their worn fists against rough punching bags. The schedule still lodged firmly into his mind from nearly twenty years of the same sequence. This wasn't his camp, this wasn't even Thailand, there was no rooster perched to wake him every morning, no jungle to rush through if only for fear of falling behind, no trainers with there whomping sticks ready to punish those who showed an inch of weakness. No there was none of this here, yet Chanarong felt more afraid then ever before. The only solace he took in this foreign land was that he knew his actions still had guide. No distance could erase his connection to the camps temple and as long as he had that nothing would deject him.

He had come to America in search of money for his family back home, truly the American dream. In Thailand he had been and remained a champion Muay Thai fighter and while he planned to return periodically to defend his title, he needed a job in the land of dreams if he wanted to remove his family from poverty. Preparing from a young age for this opportunity by learning to fluently speak English, Chanarong wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. There was a problem however, you see despite what you may here the American dream doesn't simply fall into your lap. This is where the man's logic was flawed, he expected to simply depart from the plane and have a job, but it wasn't that simple. He would need to navigate around this new concrete jungle if he wanted to procure a job and living quarters. It was quite the odd circumstance indeed, a man with more then enough money in savings to purchase a fine loft yet a cultural barrier would make such a task seemingly impossible.

He would spend the week after arriving living on the streets, in parks and under bridges, resting wherever he could. Luckily buying food for the camp at the market had taught him how to procure sustenance from a service based society. Although a restaurant was indescribably different then a local village fruit market, the principle remained. That wasn't all that remained either, his problem of shelter was still looming and if he didn't get a job soon his savings would eventually run out. It would seem however that there was a slight light sparkling in the dark tunnel he was going through. While napping under an overpass the previous night, a flier for the school of gifted children had blown seemingly into his hand, as though fate itself had placed it there. Confused as to what it was, he inquired around a bit about it, from what he could gather it was a place that helped people and that's what he needed right now more then anything.

So now were back where we started with him approaching the school, sun shining down on him, with nothing but high hopes of improving his life. He couldn't just very well walk into the building and ask them to fix his problems, he would need to talk to someone and figure out what to do first. Trekking across the grassy area's surrounding the building he would spy three people. looking as though they were going to begin playing a basketball game. He hadn't had much experience with the sport but walking around the city for the past week had definitely enlightened him to the sport. Approaching them with a smile, the seven foot two Muay thai fighter towered above them and the age difference was rather noticeable, but hopefully they would allow him to join in.

"Hi, I'm new around here, you mind if I join your game."

Leila grinned as Shin caught the ball, and then spun around so she could face the net. She nodded as he came back, handing Slate the ball. She patted Slate on the shoulder as he started dribbling, looking slightly uneasy. She smiled encouragingly, and soon enough, he began getting the idea, dribbling far more confidently. "Nice job!" she said exitedly. Leila bit her lip, gazing upwards at the cloudy sky. "We could always just shoot the ball in the net, try and shoot as many goals. Has anyone ever heard of this 'Pig' game? My cousin taught it to me when we were younger..." she drifted off however, as a very tall man caught her attention.

He was coming this way, and Leila's stomach twisted in a knot. Was he a Mansion resident she hadn't met yet, or simply a thug? She had never seen him at the Sanctuary either, trust me, he would of been noticable. Maybe he wasn't even a Mutant? A lot of questions passed through her head as she watched the man approach, and she felt a bit dumbfounded when he asked if he could join them. Leila looked from Shin to Slate, shrugging. "Yeah, we needed a fourth player, just to even out the teams." she said, sounding confident.