The rose girl, whom he suspected might be drunk, had began laughing. Not a nice little laugh. Something you'd hear in your dark dreams. Something you always hoped you would never hear on a rainy night. And it scared Anthony. Then she stopped, went cross-eyed, and fell. It was not a graceful swoon, or a comical pratfall. It was a real world fall, full of unpleasant sounds and motions.

Anthony didn't like the way her head hit. He moved to help her up, but she rolled on her side, so he backed off. Blood was on the ground where her head had struck. He whispered a profanity. Head trauma was always bad, and if she was drunk as that nearing empty bottle said she was, this could turn real nasty real fast.

She stood up, amazingly. She was still trying for that bottle, and Anthony was relieved when she ended up dumping the rest and breaking the bottle. He should have considered that himself. He turned away from her to check around them, and he saw the cat jump, rush, teleport, hard to tell which really, and go sailing past him. Her coat rustled and cracked like a flag in the wind and when he turned back, she was reaching for the girl who...

Oh, by Christ, she was lurching into the street. The drunk was heading directly into the New York afternoon traffic. Anthony sprang after the both of them, intent on keeping the girl from harm, but he was the last of the three. Horns blared, tires screeched...

(Slow motion?)

As the drunk girl lurched into traffic, she just barely got away from being hit with a car as Sara grabbed her and pulled her from danger. Hopefully the mongoose man would follow suit and get out of the street before he got hit himself.

Xavia passed out before anything else, whether Sara put her on the sidewalk or not, blood still oozing from the back of her head where she’d smacked it. It wasn’t profuse in bleeding, the wound didn’t seem at all that bad and there was no sign of bad trauma, perhaps a mild concussion, but the most damage seemed to be done by the alcohol. Loose change, some crumpled bills, and her paper ID had fallen out of her pocket, along with a piece of paper that was yellowed and folded half-azzardly, obviously looked at a lot. Otherwise, there was no clue as to her identity.

The paper read as follows:

April 17, 2009. The library didn’t help me find answers either, just another empty search on a blurry picture in my head. I need to find out who is sending men after me and why. Is it because I am a mutant? Is it because the man who made me into this… thing is behind all of this? I have to remember!

It seemed to be written across the back of an old missing dog poster that had seen better days.

Sara shook her head at the girl. However the gesture was worthless and apparently unnoticed beyond Sara using it to shrug off some built up steam. Then the girl was out and dropping through Sara’s padded digits as Sara did her best to slide her hand under the back of the other girl’s shoulder to better support her.

Sara managed to prevent her from cracking her head open farther on the cement and kneeling on one knee she balanced the other girl’s shoulders trying to prevent her head from just dangling, while she attempted to pull her long coat off of her shoulders. “Can you help me remove the coat?” She asked the gentleman after managing to only get it half way down one arm, what with her hands full and everything.

“Stupid, idiotic, drunk.” Sara mumbled, motioning that she wanted to put her coat under the other girl’s head and shoulders. She could only imagine Doc Prof having a field day about this.

Anthony could never really dance. Coordination wasn't the problem, or agility. It was, rather, structuring his movements to suit a beat. This was, of course, a relatively small concern compared to dancing in traffic, another skill he hadn't really cultivated.

The car that missed the rose girl nearly hit him, and instead of doing a rational thing like moving towards the sidewalk, he jump sideways, towards an oncoming motorcycle, which he had to leap. Leaping, though, was not his strong suit. He was tagged by one of the cycles rear view mirrors, just below his ribs on his back. He nonchalantly walked back, holding his side and gasping.

"What'cha got there?" He asked the cat as he sat down on the sidewalk. "She would pass out AFTER jumping out into traffic. Hrm?" He noticed some stuff laying on the ground, including a goverment provisional paper identification. He picked it up.

"Xavia Amethyst Wor... Worsh-ah-lai?" Anthony looked up to the feline, looking for some sign that she recognized the name.

She was down for the count. No actions could be described, except that she was laying there passed out while Sara and the Mongoose man were there. The ID offered little information, but the yellowed piece of paper may give them a clue as to why she got drunk in the first place, or one of the reasons. Indeed, they did not know that she was being hunted, and that she had been through more than a lot of people in her short lifetime.

Unless they had happened to read or watch the news, which her name was most likely mentioned in because of her family having enough resources to look for their missing daughter. But not everyone watches the news or reads the paper.

Anthony stretched and winced, tugged the coat off, and began placing items in the pocket. Money, ID, change, pape- Paper?

The coat, the rest and all, went under the girls head. The paper stayed in his hands, read, and reread. Ghost of Christ, what has this girl been doing? Someone had been trying to kill her? Either she was mental (The possibility has crossed my mind) or someone was trying to kill her, neither of which were particularly good.

"So, Xavia Worshahlai, you think someone has been trying to kill you?" Anthony stood up, wincing again. "Well, we have a few options. Hospital, which everyone hates. We could also take her to my suite, and you can come with so that you know I'm not doing anything improper. And so that she doesn't bury me in thorny roses when she wakes up." Anthony smiled, a doggedly tired smile. "Or something you can think of. No matter what, I'm going to stop talking to strangers in the bar, I think. Too much trouble, not enough drinking." He glanced at the bottle and the ground around it, which wasn't as wet as one would expect, and looked back at Xavia laying near him.
"Well, not enough of ME drinking."
"In any case, you never told me YOUR name!"

Once the other girl, who seemed to have the name Xavia, was placed gently on the ground. Sara's coat under her head, Sara read the piece of paper with her notes on it, over the gentleman's shoulder. It seemed the girl had some troubles of her own, in witch case, if she were facing them alone, like sara was suspecting, Sara could blame her anymore about the randomly picking fights. Sara was so used to being on her own side and shoving everyone away, that the girls actions, that Xavia's actions, suddenly made a little bit of sense. Even if the drinking thing was still very stupid. Sara was trying very hard to stretch, understand Xavia, and give her the general benefit of the doubt.

The bump on the girl's head was concerning. It didn't seem imediatly serious, but if the girl had a concussion, she needed to be looked after. And kept awake if she would wake up. Sara knelt back down by her side tapping her in the shoulder first. "Xavia. You should wake up." Sara said being gentle at first, then a little rougher. Should the girl proove to be harder to wake up than that, Well Sara would just be more insistent of her need to awake. Moving from her shoulder to gentle slaps on her cheek. (Leaving this part up to you Dryad. your choice.)

"My name is Sara." She said as she worked to wake Xavia. every now and then checking another pocket for another clue, on Xavia as to what she was doing. Where she had come from, family, anything. "Unless you have a mutation that allows you to heal others, I might have a better place to bring her. Ever here of the xavier school for the gifted? There's a healer there who works in the school." Sara said as she searched for her cell phone. Padding the pockets of her cargo pants before she remembered it was in a pocket of the coat, and started working to pull it out.

Anthony stifled a laugh. He'd been this drunk a couple of times in his life. You could probably perform open heart surgery on her and she wouldn't feel a thing, and would probably sterilize herself to boot. But, if you never try, then you've already failed. But...

"Hey, while trying to wake her is all good and fine, I don't really suggest anything that might cause her to move her head too much. I've HEARD of the school. I know considerably less about it then anyone else..."

Anthony trailed off, and began to think about options. "We can't carry her. I know it can't be too close, and we can't risk jogging her. Ambulance wouldn't take her anywhere but a hospital, and a taxi is too small. I think I have no real ideas at the moment. We should take her back to the bar, first. I just realized we are attracting unwelcome attention."

Anthony gestured across the street where various pedestrians were standing, staring at them. He was sure they were probably there since the near miss with the cars. Well, she missed them at least. This is going to bruise up all kinds of pretty.

She woke up for a brief time as Sara was trying to wake her, but her eyes closed not too long after that. The smell of flora seemed to intensify with each passing minute, and as always, random flowers began to sprout from her skin. This was one of the times she had no control over what her mutation did. Yeah, just ignore it, unless you see something poisonous, then you might want to keep your distance.

Xavia managed to pry her eyes open again for a brief time, long enough to hear Sara’s name and the debate over where to take her. “No hospitals.” She interjected that before sighing and closing her eyes. The girl rolled over and the inevitable happened. Luckily for Mon and Sara, it happened on the sidewalk, and not on their feet. The smell of stomach contents wasn’t very pretty.
(Necessarily short)

Sara's insistanse to wake Xavia up paused when her eyes opened. though that didn't seem like they opened for a long time. Let along got past the glazed over look. She'd really messed herself up. "If they've got a problem with it, let them stare." Sara said. not even looking up at the crowd. She knew the police and she, herself had been on the news in the past few years. Where she had once hidden her face, she was starting to grow a back bone. "Besides. If we outright move her, we're going to do more gosling than an ambulance would."

"Plus she says no hospitals." Sara sighed as she thumbed in a few keys on her cell phone. "I'm calling a friend of mine." Sara said as she dialed the mansions resident healer mutant. Ever since her own accident involving a gun going off while pointed towards her head, she'd kept in touch with Doc Prof.

Waiting for Doc Prof to pick up the phone was nerve racking. She wasn't sure if he'd be with a patient, in the office, or, heaven forbid, he took a day off and wouldn't be in. so what if the man needed a vacation. he also needed to stay where he could be easily reached.

It was the third ring, that a very tired voice picked up. "Hello, Xavior's sister school for the gifted. You've reached the infirma-"

Sara cut him off. "I don't suppose you have a free hour or two."

"Doc Prof paused on the other side of the line. "Why?"

"I've got a girl out here with what looks like a concussion. she refuses to go to the hospital and i'm a little afraid to move her without putting her on a back board."

Though it seemed Xavia needed to move herself. Sara stepped around her as she rolled so that she could... Oh yay vomit. Sara's nose wrinkled as she finished the conversation with the good Doc Prof. Then clicked her phone shut. he should be there soon.

Sara knelf next to the other girl, pulling her hair away from her face so she didn't make more of a mess as she finished loosing her stomach content. The flowers were sprouting and even if they were poisonous, Sara wouldn't move. She didn't believe she would have to with her mutation. Mean while, Sara finally looked at the crowd that was gathering. Yup. they had an audience.

(OOC: The misspelling is intentional, meant to show a slight mispronunciation. Most New Englanders I've met have that... tendency in pronunciation, to pronounce it SArAh like Jareth in Labrynth. No insult intended.)

"Listen, Sarah, was it? Tell me what you see. What I see is two mutants leaning over a sick, vomiting girl who threw herself into traffic and, after they started messing with her, began to sprout plants. At the best, it's odd, at the worst it's bloody murder... Hey, that one is pretty." Anthony stared at a sprouting blossom crawling from the side of her hip, slipping between the sweater fibers.

Anthony sighed and stood up. "I hope your person shows up in short order. Mutants aren't so popular right now. The glory of the registration act has faded. And more then a few people think some mutants are acting the villain so others can play hero." Anthony sighed and stretched. "Actually, I would believe that one if there weren't more then enough evil to go around already. People are people, with or without sexy fur like us." Anthony threw a wink at Sara.

"So, do you think we can help her? I'm not busy. Well, beyond my drink... Which I totally left on the bar." His morose voice mismatched his smiling eyes and comical stance. "I'm not a big fan of leaving a drink behind. But I'm less of a fan of someone trying to kill pretty women." Anthony hooked a finger around the silver chain that fit close to his neck. "They might actually succeed."

Moving to lean on a building adjacent to the pair of women, Anthony looked at the slowly growing number of pedestrian and shop patron looky loos. More then a few people were surreptitiously having pointed conversations, a few on cell phones.
"Hey... Your not wanted by the cops, right? Cause, judging by the crowd, we might be expecting some rather soon. And I don't want to get shot. I just bought this shirt."

Ugh. Her head hurt now that she had purged herself of the offending swill in her belly. It did the trick to sobering her up most of the way, though she was still tipsy from the alcohol that reached her blood stream. Oh no, did she make a fool out of herself? She felt a furry paw-hand brush her hair aside, and started. When she turned, she saw the cat woman looking at her with a mixture of concern and… Anger?

“Th-thanks…” she stammered out, and moved to sit up and away from the disgusting smell of her own stomach contents. Her hand went to the back of her head then, and she hissed a pained breath in. “That was the stupidest thing I have ever done.” Her words came out slow, of course, and still slightly slurred, partially from being tipsy and partially from being groggy. Her Hungarian accent seemed a bit thicker than before, but not so thick that it couldn’t be understood.

She was going to lay back down but thought better of it when she realized what the man was talking about. “Nobody is trying to kill me.” Her statement came out flat and unemotional. She patted her pockets down to find the piece of paper missing, then sighed and held her hand out, palm up, toward the two of them. “Please, don’t concern yourself over the piece of paper. It is my problem.” No sooner had she said that then she wobbled a little and lay back down.

"A sick a vomiting girl who's sprouting flowers." Sara corrected. you can't forget the sprouting flowers thing. The sprouting flowers thing was an important thing. No forgetting allowed.

"I hope your person shows up in short order. Mutants aren't so popular right now."

Oh and he was definitly talking to a person who would have no idea of this. Nope. Sara had been held captive for most of her live, to be beaten, yelled at, thrown in registration camps, and spit on, but she had no idea why. Yeah right. "No kidding."

The glory of the registration act has faded. And more then a few people think some mutants are acting the villain so others can play hero."

"To be honest, I wasn't under the impression that the registration act had any glory in it. In the way it started, nor in the way that it ended."

"Actually, I would believe that one if there weren't more then enough evil to go around already. People are people, with or without sexy fur like us."

Sara raised one eye brow in response to this and to being winked at. One, that really wasn't the way that she thought about herself, and two, she really wasn't sure what she thought about being winked at.

"Hey... Your not wanted by the cops, right? Cause, judging by the crowd, we might be expecting some rather soon. And I don't want to get shot. I just bought this shirt."

"Not for a long time." Sara let the corners of her mouth pull slightly into a small smile as the girl showed signs of waking up and trying to move about. Sara only followed to keep her from injurring herself more should she fall back down. The fact she was able to move at all was a good thing, but too much movement could be bad at the same time.

Continuing the conversation. "Don't worry. The cops normally don't make head shots right off the bat. They have to think you're a real threat first. Even stupid mutants." Sara glanced from Xavia to the Anthony. "Don't worry. The Authorities know me by name now, and I've got a face that is just a little hard not to recognize."

“That was the stupidest thing I have ever done.”

"A one time stupidity I hope." Sara's ears twitched as she heard a siren in the distance. probably 9... 8 blocks away. The squad car would have to negociate grid lock trafic from that direction at this time of day. Doc prof would be ariving from the other side... soonish. Who knew how fast he drove.

“Please, don’t concern yourself over the piece of paper. It is my problem.”

The girl wavered as soon as she moved for the piece of paper that Anthony had been holding. Sara stepped around her arm, smoothly ans swiftly, with her flicking tail looking like it was the part of her that had moved the most. Sara placed a hand on Xavia's shoulder to try to steady her and gently push her back down on the cement. with the jacket. "I'm really not one to talk when it comes to refusing help, but it looks like you're trying to figure things out when they've grown really complicated. I'm not going to push you into getting help or accepting it, but if you want, I can point you in the direction of a company that would be able to be a good resource for information."

Anthony folded up the paper and tossed it towards the cat, where it landed on the ground, away from the vomit. The crowd was getting anxious, and the cops were getting close enough. If we had just stayed in the bar and gotten drunk, none of this would be happening. Next crazy woman storms out of a bar…

Anthony looked at Xavia. Pitiful. Vomit strewn about her, clothes in disarray, flowers still sprouted from various places. Heh. I’ll probably chase her, make sure she’s okay, and end up in some kind of awkward situation then too. It’s just too much fun not to.

“M’kay, well, sounds good, all around, gold stars and smiley faces.” Anthony leaned against a building and zoned, staring at a sign across the street, not seeing or hearing. Just waiting. Someone was pulling up. Cops, help, whatever. Sometimes you just wait.

She was shifting back with the help of her new-old friend, while the male was getting restless. Now she felt even worse than she started to. “I am sorry, I don’t know what came over me…” She ignored the piece of paper for now, and said no more than just the simple statement for a long moment. One would think by the way she was laying back so still, that she might have passed out once again. But she didn’t.

Xavia simply listened to the conversation at hand, along with the sound of sirens and the murmur of the crowd that gathered round the trio of mutants. “Maybe if we stare back, they might go away…” she muttered. Crowds were also not her forte. Cracking an eye open, she did just that with a semi bloodshot eye, not curling her lip or showing contempt, just staring for a moment and causing a few in the crowd to take a weary step back.

She turned her gaze to Sara, then, and canted her head slightly, “Well, I guess I owe you the benefit of the doubt, yes?” and to Anthony, “and you as well.”