He started walking around to get his thoughts in order, to make a plan. What would he tell the legal aid from the embassy? His steps reverberated through the hallway amplifying in intensity, until he finally decided, that it was no good. This walking would only make things worse for both himself and the other prisoner. Crouching himself on the mattress, he found, that there were more inhabitants to it, then just one mutant human. The little bugs that were crawling away from the light he simply let be and relocated himself calmly to the wall on one side of he door. There was better speaking there anyways, though it was pretty cold. All he got for his efforts at serenity was another shock, which was commented by a hissing noise. Who had invented these things? Oh no... These were not... He remembered Sarah talk about concentration camps and restraints.

But there were much more pleasant matters at hand then the things around his hands luckily. And his voice sounded quite friendly as he started talking.

“Oh they were somewhat surprised, that I did not reveal my x-gene to them on first sight. Apparently it is courteous to do so. They were... not pleased.”

Courteous and necessary on those forms he had to fill out as he came into the country anyways. If they found those he would be in real trouble. And seeing that they were connected with his fingerprints he was surprised, that they hadn't already. And unpleasant, yes, that had been one word to describe it. He had been given a few rants on what a good citizen should do. Not that mutants were much of citizens, but they had a responsibility supposedly. He had felt calm during the whole bunch of it and not stirred an inch, he had not even acknowledged their existence really, which had just made them furious. Furious with their own lack of power to make him comply. Furious with their lack of skill at discovering mutants and therefore themselves for trusting their vision. -Ho could that scrawny boy have posed any threat? Quite simply actually- Furious with mutants for dispatching so many officers effortlesly. Furious. They were angered children really. They did not comprehend him, nor did they comprehend the depth of his ability. That he did not comprehend much himself. But they still wanted to play in his league and they could not. Furious.

“I will be honest with you. If I had had the chance to disappear I would have. I do not care much for being expelled from the country.”

Which was a plausible consequence for this encounter, that he did wish for all too much. He had already gotten fond of this city and would not endanger his foothold here so easily. But now that matters had gotten out of hand.... Why had they gotten out of hand really? Because he had not been able to keep himself composed. This mistake would not happen again all too soon.

“I'm Martin.”
So there was not only someone there, but the girl that had been taken with him. This thing was really getting ironic. Or maybe it wasn't. He was a mutant, she was a mutant and both were here in that cell block. His voice was getting... hollow, empty. And that was not only the result of those walls around him. Oh $%&$ those armbands.

“You could call me a time manipulator.” He let out a small laugh. A dry laugh. It was an echo to her own lacking any amusement. “But that sounds quite grand. Basically there is a good chance that anyone who comes in contact with my skin becomes locked in time with me. Thats why I don't want people touching me. ”

Now she knew that bit of his powers. And the other one... was #ouch# useless now anyways, so why bother telling her? He looked at his hands uneasily. He hadn't really seen his own skin in a long time and he did not enjoy that feeling of air and grease on his fingers.
His gaze also fell on the door. A few more steps and he was standing there in plain sight of Ghost, who had been thrown in a cell diagonally across from his. He waved at her.

Yes he stood in the middle of a huge mess of concrete floor and steel bars. He was deeply unsettled both by thoughts and acts of the past hour. And he waved at Ghost with an old familiarity and a friendly grin. They both wore the same armbands. They were the same.

X-gene? He said x-gene didn't he? Mutant. Oh dear, so that at least explained why they were both back here. What it did not explain was why he was crying on the sidewalk in front of a murder scene. "You didn't do anything... to that girl did you?" Because people always answered truthfully? No, because Ghost thought that if she heard it in his voice and he sounded convinced of himself... Well, it had to be real and true then. Innocent. Of course they were both innocent, a guilty man would have run.

“I will be honest with you. If I had had the chance to disappear I would have. I do not care much for being expelled from the country.”

Ghost gripped the bars in front of her tightly. "I was sorely tempted... but justice is justice. I want to be a good example and it takes cooperation on more than just their part to do so." Everything was so very solid and stagnant. If she ever came back, Ghost vowed to send a lovely breeze through here to at least clear out the dank sweat smell.

"They will come to find the truth. I sincerely hope they do not export you before then. This is all a mistake anyway, right? We will be freed eventually, but... maybe on their own time. They're still a little sensitive to people like us." Which was silly because they were just fine with humans. They hadn't hurt a one of them except for the officer that had pulled a gun on her and even then it was non-lethal, subduable attacks only.

Martin, as he introduced himself, went on to explain the fallacies of being a time manipulator. Ghost nodded and sat back on her shins. "Sorry..." She hadn't meant to touch him so much it was just that, "I did not know if you were in a state to hear me. It was never my intention to invade your personal space... or time." Ghost tried to think if she'd seen a display of his power at all. Honestly, the fight and everything felt very patchy in her mind. The weather hadn't helped. Everything was just flashes of movement and the strangling fear that had since dissolved into a gentle discontent.

A flick of white movement caught Ghost's eye and she leaned forward to see that he had stuck his hand through the bars and was waving at her. That earned him a smile and a reciprocating wave. "I never thought I'd go to prison, even if it is just the holding cell at the precinct." The cuffs jangled as she settled her hands in her lap. Ghost felt the need to apologize again, but stopped herself before it got past her lips. There wasn't much she could do now, but wait for morning.

"Where do you live, Mister Martin?" And there was no reason why they couldn't have at least one pleasant conversation before that time came. Too bad there were no windows, no indication of time. They only had the harsh electric glow that was forever on. Good thing she wasn't opening the store tomorrow. If she didn't show up at the Mansion tonight... no one would know any different, but if she didn't show up at the store tomorrow... Well, even if it was late, she had a long while to wait until then.

Oh yes the Girl in the alley. Had that been before or after the fight? He had to focus for a while and sort through his memories, going through them backwards one at a time to get them into the right order. It took some time of quietness, before he finally could answer her question.

“I did happen to have an unfortunate encounter with a young female drug addict right before we met, but she was as alive as those are, when I left her. The meeting unsettled me though and I apologize for my irrational behavior.”

His language was cold and reasonable, maybe even too reasonable -almost that icy chill again, the chill of winter- but his tone was not. He still felt compassion for the young one he had plunged face down into more of her homemade suffering and his tones gave it away, but it became less and less by the word he spoke. It was a gamut sung backwards. She will die eventually. She will stop to exist in a blink. Maybe even tomorrow for him. He had to live with that every day with every person he met. It was one of the reasons he was what most people would describe as cold. He simply did not want to meet all too many. He did not want to see all too many die.

He smiled at her following words. A good example she really was. But one that would be forgotten by most if not everyone by the dawn of the next day. One that would be in vain before the eyes of history, if, yes – he could do something against that, but the question was if he would. But then he shook his head. She was a little bit naive. Just a little maybe. Or she had strong convictions, which was somewhat naive also.

“It is a big mistake.” He agreed with a nod. "And though I am rather fond of my home in Germany I came here for a purpose." It was not a gloomy statement. Nono just factual information.

“Justice is not Justice. It depends on time and place as much as on the imposer of justice. Its as relative as space and time. And if that assumption is right you just contradicted yourself. They are biased against us, so what truth will they find?”

He was dissecting every bit of what she had said in his mind, looking at his marked hand, the hand that was scarred by fire. And he tried to hold on to the cold and sternness inside him, but it just did not work. Slowly his shell began to crack apart. They were going to spent some time here and thanks to a certain device he would feel every second of it as she was. Good training really for sticking to one time. But painful training.

“I do not wish to sound bleak, but it is a possibility. And I very much appreciated your Help at coming back to myself. Touching me was the best thing amongst all possible you could have done in that situation.”

He gave her a small laugh, a chuckle maybe. It was amused this time around and echoed through the empty hallway. The dark and stinking hallway as one might add. It didn't bother him really. A little nuisance. Very little could compare to the heavy humid and oily air of the engine room of a ship, where every breath felt like taking a sip out of an oil can. Compared to that the air was fresh and delightfully odorless. His personal space... Yes he had one very little one, that he defended with great fierceness, or so he liked to believe. He struck a joking tune now, a teasing one. Invading the time of a time manipulator. This girl had humor.

“It would take you a whole lot more to invade my time though.”

Maybe just a touch?

He continues in lighter tones even. Conversation this became, not rational analysis and he was somewhat glad. He was not good at conversation though, as he had very little over the days. The years. But strangely it was not hard on calling back the little he knew. The things he had heard during his weeks here.

“Uhmm...” He had to scratch his head. “Don't call me Mister though. Do I really look like a Mister to you?”It was a laughing sentence, as the notes kept ringing amusement through the ways and into the cells. It was the sentence of a boy really, a sentence that would not fit with his accuracy, this coldness from before. It was its own light in this place that blew away the winter completely. And he knew he was right. Barely out of his teenage years. His looks were a blessing and a curse.”I have rented a small place near the center of town. It will do -have to do- until I find something else.” More of an expansive closet it was really, with nothing more then a bed, a cupboard and a shower, but its price still was exorbitant. It was a short term solution, to which he would have to find an alternative soon. There was a nagging in the back of his head. Where had he heard the name Vega before?

“And what do you do? I mean where do you live and stuff?”

Ghost shook her head. No, his behavior wasn't irrational after he explained the bit about his power. She was, honestly, just glad to have someone here that would talk to her. That made all the difference in this captivity. It was already so much better than the camps. Why had she panicked so much before?

She tried not to think about the woman she'd seen in the alleyway. There was nothing she could do for her now, her murder was in official hands. Besides, Martin said that it was not of his doing. There was no telling if it was even the same woman he spoke with that had set him on edge.

But he came here with a purpose? Assuming that purpose wasn't to murder women in alleyways and then lie about it later, they could still be friends. Ghost shifted in her seat, the concrete just wasn't comfortable. What would a time manipulator want with New York? Was it in any more trouble than usual?

“It depends on time and place as much as on the imposer of justice. Its as relative as space and time. And if that assumption is right you just contradicted yourself. They are biased against us, so what truth will they find?”

Ghost ducked as if just dodging a blow, she was caught in her own bit of biased nature. "Well, the investigators all have to answer to a higher power. District Attorneys or even the Chief of Police... I don't really know the power structure here and I haven't met them personally, but I would like to believe that they got their positions by some amount of honesty and good work. They can only hold us for a certain number of hours without charging us with something and since there is nothing with which to charge us..." She shrugged simple as that, she had faith in the system despite it's flaws.

"Should I even ask about 'coming back to yourself'?" Ghost ruffled her hands through her snowy white hair, content for the moment to clink her cuffs around. If she did slip out of them, but still stayed -- would the police still be mad at her? "You were kinda mad at me... didn't know I was actually helping." The smile was evident in her words even if her face wasn't readily visible. "And you kind of sound like a Mister to me, no offense. You sound intelligent and in command. That's Mister material. But, you're right, maybe you don't look one... it was kind of dark." Ghost was far too simply minded to worry about the words coming out of her mouth. It was what she thought, why shouldn't she say it? It didn't take a lot for Ghost to find a reason to respect another.

She nodded at the woes of apartment life in New York. No doubt that was expensive. Ghost would have to remember to invite him to the Mansion or at least suggest for him to stay at the Sanctuary. There was no need for him to go bankrupt when he had a specific purpose... whatever that purpose might be... she'd have to remember to ask about that too.

But he was so very good at distracting her from her questions! “And what do you do? I mean where do you live and stuff?”

"I run a little bookstore on the corner of 57th called the Full Circle..." And the pride was evident in her voice. "And I live at a place called the Mansion, a school for gifted children. Hence the need to be a good example." There were several children and employees that weren't necessarily looking to her as an example, but... she was becoming a more and more visible member of mutant society now. "You know, we actually house other mutants there... if you ever get tired of paying rent... and get out of jail..." again her smile was in her words, "you could stay there if you liked." And she'd even remembered one of two things... that only left one question...

"and what might your... purpose be? You did say purpose right? Not mission or scheme or something? Ghost fiddled around with the way she was folding her hands. Perhaps touching thumb to pinky would help her slip out of her fetters.

Finally stopping to move around at the metal doors of his cell and settling into a relaxed but the sound of his steps lingered on between the concrete walls. Listening to the friendly voice was relaxing in ways not anticipated. He was actually feeling a bit comfortable. Seeing the floor and the mattress he had to revise that statement: It was not comfortable but rather comforted. The voice had notes of innocent goodness to it he had not heard in a long time. Maybe even 10 years. How can she touch me like that with just speaking? She is playing me like an instrument without noticing. Luckily his train of thought was stopped there by the little armband he still wore. It seemed the shocks were getting stronger or was it just his own sensations playing tricks on him? After a sharp hiss he started breathing heavily. This was going to be not being thankful to the police for their accommodation, but he had to get rid of these things around his wrists. He glared at them with intent. As if that would do any good.

“Who the §%$# designed these vile cuffs?”

Had he just said that out loud? Had he just sworn out loud? Check..... Echo..... Yes. Ops.
Martin you need to hold your senses and actions together. You. Do. Not. Swear. The period at the end of each word was a long one, until... Ouch. “§$%&(“
The strong echo of foreign words was something that even startled him. Luckily Vega could not speak German otherwise he might have blushed for saying something like that in public. Especially to female company. The peace had just been shattered and he knew it, but that did not stop him from starting rebuilding it.

“I have to apologize. This electrocuting is rather... unnerving.”

Unnerving and in fact painful, thank you NYPD. Thank you very much. Holding tight onto the metal bars in front of his face for support and banishing the sound of strain from his voice he continued on with their little talk as if there had nothing happened. There was nothing happening his tone said. Everything is alright. There even entered the tone of his much younger self into his voice, of the boy she had awakened with her words deep inside him. Forgoing her first remark about higher powers – If there really were such things they would have shown themselves by now to stop the senseless blasting apart of heads and bodies that mankind was so great at accomplishing. Of course some viewed mutants, homo superior that is, as the ones ready to fulfill that role. Foolish notions. Higher powers. Pff-

“You certainly may ask.” I will try to answer you. At least as much as I can. “I was so furious with you, that I would have kicked your bottom if you went any farther. The best thing ever to happen on this whole night.” He basically laughed the words at her, his body racking with silent laughter. Maybe some pain was also involved. Was he making sense? He was glad that she had made him angry? Yes he was. “Anger can be used much like a tool to focus yourself in dangerous situations.” And he had been angry with her, but much more with the officer that had so rudely interrupted them. He hoped, that he had at least an ache from his throw. Did I just think that? I need to calm down. “I really don't look like much of a mister.” At least that was how he thought of himself. He did not even take note of the fact that he was calmly sitting on the ground of a prison cell, talking to a stranger like an old friend and was still maintaining an aura of dignity that could be passed off as mistersome.

Listening to her words he finally came to remember, where he had heard the name Vega before. It made him laugh out loud and heartily. A strange sound that resonated trough the cells, so much unlike anything they normally got to hear.

“I was at the opening of that bookstore, only that I cant remember correctly when it was. Seems like years.” The laugh changed into a more uneasy tone. “I may be a time manipulator but I always mix up dates and times.” That he had not confessed to anyone in a long time. Why was he feeling so comfortable again? “Is was – is- a nice place.”

It did seem more like a decade, for all the memory of that event was clouded with others that naturally overlapped it. Such a stack of memory and emotion on it was normally not getting fuzzy like this, almost intangible even for himself, until much time had passed. It was a picture that had been painted over a few dozen times. Not really tangible, but somehow still there.

“Careful Vega, I may just do go to your Mansion as the purpose of my moving here was to find change and movement again. Its not always easy...” With his last remark he trailed off into silence. He had not fled Germany because he could not stand it any more to be around the same sights as every year, day, second of his life. That had not been the reason. Well maybe part.

Ghost jumped a bit at the cursing. Of course it was cursing, the tonality didn't change despite the not-Englishness if his words. Was he okay? He hissed and apologized, but Ghost had put her shoe on the chain between her cuffs and was pushing at it anyway. She wanted out, nay she needed out. She made small noises as the metal scrapped skin off of her hands, and she tried to divide her attention between the words Martin was speaking and her progress with the cuffs. As a result her voice was a bit more strained from before. "As long as you are alright..."

She was already past the point of no return on one hand, she had maneuvered the cuff over the bottom joint of the thumb on her left hand. The scrape wasn't too deep, but it oozed none the less. There was no turning back now. It would hurt less to continue than to stop and go back.

"Kicked my bottom?" She gasped and couldn't help but giggle a little bit at that. Perhaps a short rest was in order, but it hurt where it was currently constricting her hand. No, it would be better to continue. "I'm not five, Martin. Or maybe it's a culture thing. Kicked my butt is typically what you'd say in polite company here. The word bottom kind of Kindergarten." But that was a lesson for another time.

So... making him angry helped him focus? Ghost's left hand slipped out the rest of the way all at once and she hugged the freed appendage to her chest despite the fact that it was leaving small splotches of blood on her blouse. Free. Free. Free, she was free. She cradled the hand with such joy that the shock she received to the other hand could hardly phase her.

"If that was the best thing to happen to you all night, then I am sorry for the way your night has gone, Mis... Martin." She was equally laughing, though quite probably from differing reasons.

“Anger can be used much like a tool to focus yourself in dangerous situations.”
With a sigh and a shock, Ghost went to work on her other hand, already worried a bit from the tugging. This time her shoe went into the empty circle and pushed. "I don't like to be angry." She admitted. "Too much anger takes away your choices as surely as any alcohol." She'd seen people do horrible, horrible things, their faces twisted by anger. Under normal circumstances, Ghost liked to think those people would never had even dreamed of what they would do while angry.

Ghost paused after the knuckle of her thumb had wriggled through the cuff. "Oooh? You were there? Forgive me for not remembering you then. I tried to say hello to everyone, but it's really impossible to do so." She wondered what it would be like to be lost in time... disorienting at best. "Have you considered keeping a calendar? Marking down the date or something? Because I can tell you that the Bookstore opening was on March 25th and I am unlikely to forget that date considering that it is also the day on which I was born." Again the rest of her hand seemed to pop out with no such satisfying sound effect. Only the clatter of the offensive metal on the ground and a sigh that echoed and slithered through the prison block. And look, mom, no shock. Ghost picked up the cuffs and lay them on the bed before summoning a breeze that cleared out the majority of the corn nut smell.

"Change is never easy, no..." She was reminded of the changes that had taken place since a certain bald pain manipulator had left the mansion and their recent chat. "But it is most necessary for living creatures. And of course you are welcome at the Mansion as you would be welcomed at the Sanctuary or any other mutant housing. It's rather hard to avoid change there as even the inhabitants are constantly in flux."

With those words she inhaled sharply and wafted through the bars, through the hall and remained an intangible and mostly transparent version of herself just on the other side of the bars to Martin's cell. "Do you mind if I visit?"

What was she doing there? Were those grunts really noises of pain?She was... echoing him somewhat. The stress that was bouncing out from him was amplified in her voice. He just hoped, that he was not doing something foolish as young people often did.

“There is no need for you to concern yourself. I will be alright.”

He told the truth. He would be alright. He just was not at the moment. That sentence may or may not have been smart. It would either deter her or get her moving if she was not already and if he was right. Either possibility was valid. And either possibility was OK with him. Action was preferable, especially in this place. Laughing, giggling... It seemed this wretched prison was being put on its way to becoming a happy place. A few decorations on the walls, a few flowers and a lot more light was all it needed to be better. But even right now it was good and maybe action was not preferable her after all. And absolutely not if she hurt herself. Well he hoped she knew what she was doing.

“With Anger it is much like Alcohol. Dosage is important.” To say the truth he did not enjoy Anger, but had the pleasure of meeting it far to often. Better Anger then fear. Fear and Remorse were feelings with which a person could incapacitate oneself easily. He was the best example for that. Images they were that came to mind when thinking about Anger. Simple Alleyways in darkness. Eyes that looked into emptiness like one would look into your own living room. Welcoming, greeting. His Anger was not of the raging kind, the kind that would burn away at your mind and body until there was nothing there any more. It was more vicious then any flame could ever be. And that was one of the few things that could still scare him.

“I understand perfectly well. You cant be everywhere at once. And thank you for the date. It wont stick in my mind though. It never does.” Sadly dates and times were lost to him. Looking back there were events and events after another in differing degrees of clarity, but which one came before or after the other was impossible to tell. The only things that he could keep track of were his childhood memories. Because he knew people never shrank. But otherwise he could have sworn that that day he first came near the stove was after he got into high school. Flashes of those images came back to him. A woman wearing a white cross. The memory of Blood and screaming. Had it been a red cross? Blood red? And there it was again with her words about the calendar. The extreme cold that threatened to crush him, wash him away. The police had taken the black book. The officer had even smiled at finding it, even had shown him the courtesy of skimming through it right before his eyes. The things he read had made him smile. The things he had found. They were in German, so no immediate danger. They were kept in German, so they were in all possibility interesting enough for translation. Cold. His life had been taken away into an evidence bag, zipped up like some piece of junk for storage. Dooming pages lingering over his head. Freezing cold, made its way into his eyes and words.

“I do keep notes of things.... Those are with the police right now.... I will have to get them back....”

The have to was pronounced like a must. And spoken with an intent that was a promise. But it was not nearly as loud as the words before. The pauses were more distinct, longer. Clatter. The wind was calming on his cheeks. He had every intent of getting this book back no matter the cost. He would even break into a police station for that, for without it he was lost in his own memory like the literal needle in the haystack. His kneeling position in front of the metal bars had not changed a bit during the last minutes. He felt the dull pulsing of his knees protesting against the unusual strain competing with a sore feeling in the muscles of his arms. His hands were grabbing the bars, as if they needed the support. He did need it. His vision was getting blurry at the edges from the shocking. A little while more and he would not be able to conceal it any longer. Moment of thought. Clatter. Breeze. Had there just been a breeze in here? His eyes lit up with hope as he began straightening himself up.

“Change is sometimes enjoyable for me. It is stagnation I find difficult to escape.” It would be to anyone who could make a second last a lifetime. Who made others feel the same way. Who wanted stability and all he got was things falling to dust beneath his very fingers. The fingers his eyes had just dropped on again, looking at the pale flesh. Change was enjoyable sometimes, yes. But by far not always. He looked up, just to find a misty figure standing in the hallway. This time his eyes sparkled as the last bits of cold were blown away.

“Feel yourself at home. Well maybe not at home, but you are welcome to enter.”

She wasn't a vampire, she was just being polite. Ghost nodded in acceptance of her invitation before wafting through the bars... or rather, the bars stayed exactly the same while Ghost moved around them. The effect was the same either way. She made it inside and immediately began the process to become solid again. Particles coalesced slowly and Ghost became more and more opaque as if someone were editing her image and sliding the transparency of her image down to zero.

Her weight manifested equally slow. First the toes of her ballerina flats touching down and eventually her heels. A soft exhale and she felt every ache from the say. It had been a long day made longer by the frightening events of a pre-stormy evening. Ghost ran her hands over the three quarter length sleeves that were only slightly damp now that ample time had passed from her stormy arrest. "Neat trick, huh?"

The one begrudging advantage to wearing pants was that one could sit indian style. And so Ghost folded her gangly long legs together as she made her self at home on someone else's prison cell floor. "There now, let me have a proper look at you." She leaned to one side and then the other. "Why, yes, I believe you are Mister material." She nodded to herself. "Yes, quite so. I'd offer to shake your hand as a proper introduction but you have advised me against skin contact, mister Martin." Sitting straight backed as she always did, the formal (if slightly silly) manor of speaking really became her.

She folded her sad hands in her lap. The scrapes and bruising were of her own doing and so she would not bother to complain. "Perhaps you should tell me about Germany... to pass the time." Ghost yawned into her hand. Things were much better with company.

He saw her gather her body together. It was strange to see someone just float in front of him like a ghost and then sink down to the ground again, solidifying, not turning into a puddle on the ground, but sinking down through the air. Not sinking, but swimming, until she finally stood right in front of him. The space in between, the transition, to watch her in what could almost be considered her natural state and most probably natural surroundings carried the simple yet graceful beauty of Japanese flower arrangements. She wore a smile on her face, which made it all the more beautiful and entrancing. It did not matter that they were in a prison cell. It did not matter that there were metal bars barring him from going where he wanted. Standing there with his half opened, as he realized that she had already spoken her first question, while she was in his cell. He did not want to break the silence, as it seemed that that would break the spell of the moment, just jet and therefore simply nodded to her, mouth closed properly of course. This was one of the rare moments, where he wished he had more time.

Her evaluation of him did neither go unnoticed, not went by easily, as he shifted slightly after going into a kneel following her suit. As the process neared its end, he even felt a bit of anxiety and leaned forward a bit. How would she judge him? Would she be deceived by his appearance? When she was not, he gave her his first warm smile in a long time. An honest smile it was, though it carried a hidden promise. The promise of comfort in times of unrest in times of danger protection. The promise of a father to his children. It was a smile that promised protection.

“It is either Mister Stein or Martin, choose your pick Vega. But of course you are right.”

There they were, the first words he spoke to her face to face. They came with a light-heartedness that was daring her to put on a smile.

“Perhaps I should tell you about Germany,..." He inclined his head in an agreeing manner. "... but if you could do me the honor of helping me out of these, please?...” He shook the cuffs like armbands. They gave a soft metallic sound. “.. And secondly there is the matter of storytelling. I will gladly tell you my story, as long as I get yours in return.” He seemed totally earnest about this. And yet his voice was still light.

Ghost mouthed the two names to herself. Stein. Martin. Stein. "That'll be Mister Martin then." The alliteration was just too good to pass up. She somehow did not find it odd to be sitting so close to a near stranger. He was amiable and they were in this together after all. Innocent until proven guilty. Friendly until proven a threat.

But that didn't keep her smile from fading when he asked about his cuffs. She wasn't disinclined to help. No, she was more worried about the proximity to an apparently dangerous bit of skin.

"Well, I used my foot. That's my story and I'm sticking to it." Ghost mimicked her movements by unfolding her gangling limbs and putting her shoe out in the air between her mangled wrists and pushing. She hadn't really misinterpreted his meaning, but there really wasn't much to tell on her story now that she'd left so much behind her. "But... that only worked because these things have to go on the tightest setting for me not to be able to squeeze out." And she knew that from experience. She'd been in the camps and she had been unable to undo hers because the guards there had been so much more thorough.

Ghost scooted slowly toward Martin to get a better look at his cuffs. His hands were larger than hers... well, at least wider. The push and shove method did not seem wise unless he wanted to loose the meat on his hands down to the bone. Timidly she looked up to Martin's face. "I will have to touch you, may I have your permission? Maybe I can bring the handcuffs with me, change them into air. If not, Perhaps I could touch you, through your clothes of course, and change you into air... Either way, It'll be close for a bit." She chewed her lower lip pondering between the two. "I honestly don't know if either will work, though. I'm sorry, I didn't think it through that it would not be fair to leave you so."

She tapped her lips with a long, thin finger before inclining her head and slowly reaching out for the cuffs. On second thought, wasn't that likely to hurt both of them? Ghost pulled back her hands and tapped her lips again. "I would touch your shoulder... the change comes slowly for others and I do not know if it will trigger the cuffs. If it does and it is too much for you to bear, break the contact between us and you will not become intangible."

Ghost moved to get an easier reach to Mister Martin's shoulder. "Seeing and feeling will be a bit different. If we get that far, please don't throw up on me." Not that anyone had, but... there had been some close calls. Ghost put her hand on Martin's far shoulder so that her arm lay across the back of his damp hoodie. The more contact there was, the fast the change would happen. She offered him a sympathetic smile before inhaling sharply.

One moment she was there. Solid and real, the next only a partial print of herself remained. Any place her arm was touching would be numb excepting that slight feeling of contact between her arm and Martin's back. She worked quickly, pushing the change through his body faster than she had ever dared before. Ghost would have to be careful to include every bit of clothing, but not the cuffs. She'd managed it at the camps, though the cuffs were turned off at the time. Would they shock him? Would they shock her? Would it work?

He took the proclamation to Mr Martin with some calm despite his desire to ask her for her reasoning behind that particular choice of name as he failed to see it clearly. A simple risen eyebrow was his answer to what he -after a moment of consideration- perceived to be silliness, which quickly dropped, once he read her expression at his next sentence. Rapidly retracting his hands as if they were on fire, he could not keep his expression from becoming hard. The lines of the face got more emphasized as along with almost every other even his facial muscles tightened. He knew that hesitation all to well, the lightning quick glance on his skin, the bit of embarrassment that came with the fear. But it was no irrational fear. It was a very real one and he wanted to congratulate her for her sharp eye. The threat. He as a threat to anyone who came near him and she had done well to remind him of that. Not that he needed a whole lot of reminding, but pleasant company led to relaxation which led to slacker which in due time led to accidents. He could not afford accidents. He would not have them, so he chose the easiest way for both of them.

He retreated from their close position on his knees, leaving cleaner spots on the floor wherever they went and bent himself into a much more crouched stance, minimizing the area of exposed skin on hands and face. It was necessary for both of their safeties. And he would do what was necessary to keep them safe.

So she could change things into air that were not herself. Quite more powerful she was then it appeared on first sight. But then again there always was more then met the eye.“Be careful please.” Were the only words he uttered before she touched his shoulder. For a while he did not feel anything there, until he realized that that was the fact that was different. There was no feeling in the area she touched other then the sensation of her touching him there. Peculiar.
And the numbness spread further and further down his arm and up his spine. The sensation was somewhat... impressive. It put a grave feeling of anxiety in his stomach, but if she was right about her own powers then that would soon be replaced. Not with the most desirable sensation, but still. Replacement would be welcomed, for gravity he had had enough of. He was already sick of it. Now his stomach might just go along with that.

As he examined his own feelings and thoughts the restraints gave their very last shock, before the world changed into a... fog. Senses were dulled to inscrutability, as he almost became air. Light then any feather he floated through the room stretching himself out further and further. It was exhilarating. This was how he was meant to be! Both hands stretched out wide throughout the nebula. Confines were wrong. There were no confines he could feel. He was meant to float! Was this how she felt? Was this what she was? He could hear so many new things, as one usually did in the fog. There was a great brooming noise as something hit the ground. Unbelievable. When your sight is clouded you start relying on other senses more and more. This was just absolute. The only thing that stuck out like a black spot in the gray of his mind was the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. Her hand A hand that pulled him back, together, gathered every molecule of his and put them back where they belonged.

Blink.

He was lying on the floor of his cell, breathing shallowly. What had just happened to him?
On the armband on the ground a little red light turned on.

There was something wrong. He was spreading out too far, stretching farther than he should. Was he doing it or had it been a result of the fast change? It didn't matter all too much, it just meant that she had to touch more of him to bring him back. Careful not to lose contact, Ghost slid her other arm around Martin's torso. It was strange to feel a body that wasn't really there, but of course increasing the contact like this pulled his wandering particles back so that there was something to feel. A hug was enough. He felt together enough to perhaps let him go, the problem with that being that she always forgot how very buoyant people became when transformed.

She wasn't quite sure how far off the ground he was when she retracted her arms and let him fall, but the moment they broke contact she knew it was a mistake. Martin fell onto his back, that was a new one. And he seemed pretty dazed too. Ghost squeaked. "Mister Martin~! Are you okay?" The pressure around his face increased as she tried to more clearly see what was going on. Oh but that was silly, she should just become solid again.

The pressure let off and Ghost went through her paces. She did not like how Martin had shrunk away from her when she had tried to be considerate of his no touching thing. Ghost had been so very anti-touching not to long ago herself, but considering her powers and the manor in which they worked, she had been moving past that insecurity. And even if something bad happened, wouldn't it be better than that cringe around the eyes? The way he shielded himself against her only made her want to take that fear away some how.

Back on the ground and solid again, Ghost was on her hands and knees next to the dazed Martin. Actually, make that partially over him. She positioned her face right over his, concern painting her features as she inspected him for damage. She had better not have broken him. He was so very nice. And the world needed more nice people in it. She should be breaking the mean faces, not the nice ones.

"Are you?" She reiterated half of her question as she searched his face. The cuffs lay all but forgotten on the floor of the cell. Now he could use his power if he wanted. That didn't mean she was in danger did it? She had let him loose because he was nice and did not seem a threat, but she had been wrong before...

Breathing. It was troublesome. Difficult. Something was sitting on him, constricting more and more with every heave of his chest pressing the air from his lungs. Was it the hug he had just felt? Had it not been a hug, but something more sinister? His mind was crystal clear, running through the possibilities. He remembered most of what happened, but it all was just clouded at best. Those arms had not been pressing. They had been pulling. Pulling him together. Not on his chest, the pressure in his ears made it clear, that it was in his face, pushing in his nose, his mouth. The pressure was so great it that his vision narrowed, focused, but all he found was the concrete ceiling looking so much alike to the floor he was on right now. A gray sky it was, devoid of any stars. Devoid of anything. It just progressed on and on. He needed air!

Now there was a frightened squeal from... somewhere. Even though he turned his head and tried to focus on the origin of that shaky voice asking whether he was OK there was none to be found. Just plain gray everywhere he looked. He was sure a girl named Vega had been here with him a while ago. Was she still there? Could she help him out of this? If he had not been rolling on the floor like a fish out of the water, then he might just have found this funny. Might. Possibly not. His mind was getting slippery more and more, as he felt the pounding of rushing blood in his ears. Right when he had closed his eyes to completely focus his efforts on getting air in his lungs – A possibly futile one he would not give up just yet- the pressure subsided enough for him to take deep saving gulps of air, one after the other. How sweet this air was, how fresh. It tasted wonderfully invigorating. He savored every one of them. It had been a long time it had been this close before.

He opened his eyes. Blinked. Vegas was right over his face. She looked sad. People like her should certainly not be sad, but she was too close. All he could do was try to push her away gently at her shoulders, where she was covered. He hoped that it would not make matters worse. Whose were those pale fingers nearing her neck anyways? And why were they twitching?

Somewhere else two red lights on a control panel had turned on. The machine they belonged to gave a warning buzz to tell its human supervisor that something, some electrical current in the bowels of the building, was not running through its conductor as planned any more. Somewhere an electron stream had died down to nothing. And it had to be a vital stream for the machine to react with red lights blinking on monitors. It was the job of this machine and its user to act as a fail safe. One of the new security measures that had been invented to act as a net able to catch even the most elusive fish.

The trouble with nets though is, that they may be broken by just one missing string, creating wide gaps in the meshes for fish to escape through. In this case the missing string was the absence of consciousness in the officer placed to control the monitors for any sign of change. The red lights and buzzes went on unseen and unheard in a little white clean room somewhere in a police building, because the overweight officer that had been placed there as every night shift the days before, did what he had done since the second night. He was snoring.

Oh dear.

Ohdearohdearohdearohdearohdear. She'd broken him. "Hey, talk to me. Say something." Ghost put her hand against his chest. He seemed to be breathing alright. She had wanted to touch his face to help him focus, but she took mutants' warnings about harmful skin seriously. He couldn't have fallen hard enough to have broken something, right? Did she just knock him silly on accident or was he actually reaching out for her neck? She shook her head and slung her white hair this way and that as if the idea were rattling around in her head before finally rattling its way out.

Preposterous. Mister Martin wouldn't harm her intentionally. She nudged his arm aside so that he would not accidentally touch her before ducking under that arm and leaning in close so that she could get her arm behind him to help him sit up. Because... sitting up was what he needed. Yes. If she could get him sitting then she could check to make sure he hadn't busted open the back of his head. "Oh dear." That was a frightening thought. Would the guards come if she called? What would they think at this scene? Her moving a wounded man, both out of their shackles.

In close proximity it wasn't his hand she would have had to fear. Ghost wasn't very strong at all so the closer she pulled him to her body, the more she could employ stronger muscles like arms, back, and legs. Of course this put her face close enough to bestow a cordial kiss on the cheek if he so desired. Which of course he wouldn't because he was a polite man that she had just dropped out of thin air. He should be angry enough strangle her just now. But of course he wouldn't do that either. A polite man does not strangle without warning.

"Upsy-daisy. There now." Ghost helped lean him against the cell wall and kept her hand at his shoulder as she skittered around behind him. Could she touch his hair? There didn't seem to be anything dark or wet in it, but that just meant there wasn't a whole lot of blood. There could be a little blood. Or no blood, but still a bump. "I am very sorry. I should have warned you about that..." Where was her mind these days? A steady stream of air started blowing upward under his hair. It seemed to move alright. Maybe just a bump then?

She had seen the hands advance and stopped it thankfully with a firm grip of her own. He was glad about it. He really did not wish for her to be hurt. But whose hands had those been? There was just the two of them right? And if her hands were just wrapping around his chest in a warm embrace, then it must have been his right now. The conclusions were seeping slowly into his mind. It was still feeling dull and unsharpened. He tried to clench his hands into fists tightly as the veil covering his thoughts was only slowly lifting to reveal a thudding in the back of his skull. That they could have betrayed him like this was unacceptable. No matter how weak he was, he had to remain controlled. And now there were hands wrapped around his chest. Hands... chest.... skin? Luckily not.

He shivered. Though it was not the cool floor or a matter of body temperature. Those might have contributed to it, but it was mainly a motion of self disgust. He must have fallen on the back of his head to make him unfocused like this. To knock him out a little. He had even dreamed about being incorporeal. Unacceptable. He did not loose control. He must not loose control. Ever. And she was doing now exactly what he had warned her about doing. Coming close to him was dangerous. And her fingers on the cloth of his skin left a warm tingling wherever they went. A tingling that screamed DANGER in his mind. How long had it been that someone had even touched him like that?

It was all because he had been to easily knocked out of his senses. For the second time on this day he was ready to explode into ice cold fury, as she lifted him up against the wall with notable strain. Another reason to be nearly angry. He had made her exert herself. This time it was her proximity that kept him from doing so though, her warm demeanor took the edge of his fury easily. She had said something about talking, yes? Well it was time that he did.

“It's fine.” Speaking was more difficult then expected, but he caught himself after slurring the first words. He motioned her to move back a little. She was way too close for comfort to him. Had her head really just been laying on his shoulder? Much too close this was. But why did some part of him find that enjoyable? He mustn't find such things enjoyable he chided himself heavily. “I'm way to mule headed to be injured by a little fall.” Now there was cooling air brushing up his hair. It was probably her doing. And it felt quite good in the area of his head that was hurting. He lifted up his own hand and touched the sensitive area carefully. Apparently not careful enough, as pain shot through him. There seemed to be a big bruise developing there, as his hand had connected to skin much earlier then what he normally would be expecting. How had he fallen again? “And warned about what? I should apologize for being a burden.” The last clouds were disappearing and he meant every word he said.

In another place, one outside the building there arrived a bus. It was nondescript, yet the metal bars illumined weakly by the interior lights that turned on when the doors opened behind the darkened windows gave it away for what it was. A prison transport. The people leaving it looked like a wild cross-breed between SWAT and military. Hard faces under short chopped hair. Cold eyes in them. They were dressed in black, befitting for the nightly situation they had been called in to resolve. They scanned the surroundings carefully before entering the building and talking to the first officer they encountered showing him their badges. “Were here to pick up two mutants for transport to high security.” The officers eyes narrowed slightly, before giving a sharp nod. Some things were always the same. Officers despised feds. Maybe even more so then mutants. It was really hard to decide which side was worse. Probably a mutant fed. This night was getting worse and worse for him. First the mutants and a murder. At least they had caught them at the scene, but now those darn feds came to take them away and get all the glory for catching them too. He would not oppose them outright, as he would be demoted until he passed out tickets for parking in some remote nowhere village, but they would not get the prisoners without doing a lot of paperwork. The officer put on a friendly smile. Huzzah for people who knew how to work the system.