"Oh... Peter... How ignorant are you, to give up Christine's hand in marriage...."

With a content sigh Andrea closed her book and relaxed back in her chair. Only half way into the book, and she was feeling content with the way the story was shaping up. She sighed again and set her book down, her makeshift bookmark poking shyly out of the top of the novel. Her hand idly snaked out and caught up an apple from the bowl she had supplied to herself, and within a few bites, the empty core joined a small piles of its brethren who had gone before it. Devoured by the monster that was her appetite.

"Stupid Stomach." A gloved finger poked at her t-shirt covered belly and she was distressed yet again to feel the tension of what little muscle she owned pressing back. Her eyes shifted back to the bowl of fruit at her side. She could blame it on the health food she ate, her apples, veggies, and vitamins surely didn't help with the weight loss... but in her opinion someone who ate Cheese dogs as much as she did should have been packing on the pounds- not shedding them. Another sigh escapes her, this time one filled with tiredness and agitation.

Sleep filled, half lidded eyes blinked slowly from behind her glasses. Time for a nap. Definitely. The Gorgon slumped onto the window sill, relishing as a cold breeze ruffled her hair and sent the dark locks into a spasm. "Should have worn braids..." She mumbled, stretching an arm out as she made herself more comfortable, but froze when a soft clattering noise reached her ears. An eye cracked open, and she noticed her book was missing, and that her arm had taken it s place.

With a groan, Andrea pulled herself out of her seat and maneuvered herself on the ledge until she was peering over it, at her book. Which was balancing precariously on the edge of a storm drain. With a grimace, she edged forward until all but her legs was dangling from the window, and stretched- and stretched- and stretched her arm out, fingers just about touching. She was going to reach... she could feel it.. just a ... few... more... inches... and...

She felt herself slip.

Her hips rammed against the window sill and in a moment of panic, she gripped the side of the building as best she could. 'Ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap...' She watched as her book, the root of the problem, fluttered its pages in the wind before it tilted and fell from the gutter. Then, as her hips let go of the window sill, she came tumbling after onto whatever- (or whoever) happened to be below...

Martin was quite happy. Martin had gotten a new Shovel. A shiny new Shovel. New toy. It was a mirror of steel. Steel in a mirror with a wooden handle. A new wooden handle. Hardwood. It looked a lot more stable then the last one.... it had broken during work. It had necessitated a trip to the store to get a new shovel. It had necessitated a meeting with a certain person. Chain of events. Beautiful. But now he was finally able to do what he had planned on doing for... probably a day now. By now it was. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just a new tool, digging into the earth near the Mansion, liberating brown soil from underneath the green grass. Turning, upturning, uprooting that which would be changed. Earth revealed its bosom to him, every bit, every meter of that enlightenment payed for with sweat, his sweat, salty water falling from his forehead, arms heavy from doing what little he already had managed. A patch of brown, a bosom to be filled with green. It was still much to small for anything he had planned, but it would grow, grow by his hands, be shaped and fashioned until it was complete.

Trailing train of thoughts was lingering. The soft thud was not included. Thud? Softly his had turned. White had fallen from the sky, a giant snowflake spoiled with black, pages turning, uncovering, revealing that a student had been careless. Again. They all were careless. What if he had been hit? Slight irritation was making its way through his happiness as his head was set to move again, this time upwards to chide the ones that had damaged the schools reading supply. Damaged him nearly. But damage to the self... was negligible, was it not? Just function, Martin. And his eyes met... eyes. Far below from the point he had expected. They were descending. A glimmer of green skin, too. Addendum: Descending far too quickly for his taste. Descending violently like the book. But this time the student had taken greater care to aim for something other then the earth. Him to be exact. Trajectories left no other option. And had it not been for him trying to stop her fall with his will, then she might have already hit him.

There was hope left, wasnt there?

His body did not move. Far too slow were bodily movements to keep up to the speed of his thoughts at this minute. The wooden shaft at his side. The metal. They needed to disappear. His skin. It needed protection. He needed protection from her. She from him. One would have to be excused for later. And of course he would do as circumstance demanded. Forsook his own agenda for a while, hid it in his very own. There was only his agenda.

A metal shaft, metal blinking, as it was thrown away, a body falling with another, hands extending, fixating limbs, creating safety for a while. Safety from him. A gift to her. It would last till they hit the ground. Together.

The ground came rushing to meet her faster than her mind had time to process everything that was happening. She felt her chest seize up in fear from tumbling from the window, her lungs froze and refused to let her breath as she fell, and she saw a swift glimpse of someone's figure, before she shut her eyes tightly and waited for the ground to embrace her. Instead of the hardness of the ground, she landed over something rather squishy and vaguely human. That made no sense to her befuddled mind. Ground was not supposed to be soft... or ribby... and it definitely did not breath. She sucked in a breath once her lungs started working again, and brought a shaky hand to her eyes to make sure they were still covered. Glasses, check. No cheerful garden creatures would need to avoid her today.

The world quickened again and she was able to think properly once more. After cracking an eye open, all she could focus on was if her arms and legs, fingers and toes still worked just fine.... and to make sure her head was on correctly of course. She had seen far to many movies where a fall broke the neck so quickly that the owner didn't realize it until they noticed it was their backside they were looking at, not their front. All of her toes and fingers seemed to work fine. Other than a few aches in her back and knees, she felt just dandy. She carefully disentangled herself from the ground and who she had landed on, reality finally sank in fully. Her heart leapt into her throat and the Greek backpedaled as fast and carefully as she could off of the man she had pretty much flattened.

She spotted her book off to her left, and not to far off- a shovel. Oh dear lord... She had landed on a landscaper... and not just any landscaper... the same one who had gotten herself and her roommate out of their plight in the library. Her face flushed darker, and she wiggled back a little further. She had two choices... Get up and run as fast as her twig legs would take her and pray that he didn't recognize her, or... stay and beg for forgiveness. She was partial to either really, but doubted that she could run fast enough to effectively disappear from sight quicker than he could chase after.... That and the guilt would slowly gnaw at her forever. If she was lucky, since she was left with only the option of staying- he wouldn't be hurt. She could already foresee the horrors that would come if she had broken his arm or caused some other type of injury.

She shuddered inwardly at the very though, and in a meek, soft voice asked, "...Are...you alright?"

Even though the ground was freshly upturned, being hit by a woman falling from the higher stories of the Mansion still was not the most pleasurable experience. And he could not even say that he had not seen her coming. That fact held something good though. She had not touched his skin. It had probably been best if she had not touched him at all, but this was somewhat good also. Kind of a second best. Like a Golf next to a Lamborghini. That kind of second best. And he discovered the fact that some of his joints really made nice crunching noises when exposed to that much sudden weight.

His back was hurting quite a bit now after all, upturned earth or no.

If it were only his back that might comfort him a little. But the rest of him was hurting, too.

Better just to classify the parts that were not hurting. Maybe the face. Yep, his face seemed to be allright, though in his mouth there was a strangely earthy taste, a crunchy feeling. A Trabant next to a Lamborghini. His mouth was full of earth for some weird reason, a reason he had just seen falling on him, resulting in a somewhat intelligent sounding spitting and gurgeling noise as he tried to answer the question, the young woman had proposed to him. He was quite sure that that was the thing he had seen falling after all. Allright? Was he allright? His back hurt. Amongst other things. His eyes were still closed. He was still spitting earth. Yeah he was alright. But there was a thing he just then decided: He would take this day off.

He really needed a day off.

Gurgling... oh lord. That type of low, guttural sound could only be born from disaster. Paranoia set in quickly... She had surely broken his neck! While he was still turned away from her, eyes shut and sputtering to rid his mouth of dirt and grime, she had her own silent freak out. Her fingers entangled themselves in her hair; she tugged and tugged, and then tried to remember how to breathe. Hyperventilating would do no good, if she passed out and he was seriously injured, he would get no help until some passerby happened upon the scene.

God forbid it be anyone she knew... She would never hear the end of it. Stifling her ragged breaths, she forced herself to breath deeper until her heart beat slowed and she could function again. She shifted herself forward on her knees, until she was kneeling over him and pressed her fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse... or course, after making direct contact, she realized she wouldn't feel it though her gloves... or, at all really, thanks to her mutation. Scrunching her nose in irritation, she moved onto her next course of action....

Now, Andrea was not a Doctor, nor a nurse, in any way shape and form. Had his neck or spine really been injured like she assumed, the act of moving him in any way was probably a very bad idea. The Greek was happily oblivious however and thus continued on with the motion. All she needed to do was, make sure he was alright, apologize profusely, and then they would be off.... She sucked in a deep breath and held it, her hands clasped his cheeks firmly, but gently, and she put a small amount of force into trying to turn his head.

"Can you hear me?... Where does it hurt?"

The warmth. The feeling. Hands creeping over him. Fingers touching him quickly discredited all thoughts of white beaches or even birches in bloom with nothing but some sort of instinctive dread. Shards of happiness falling everywhere, carried away by a cold wind blowing. Just a touch. He was moving. Being moved. And his composure was back quite suddenly. Quite normally as it was when instincts took over his actions. As soon as he was moved, a remarkable change came over the body, as it jerked one last time and went totally rigid, freezing in a way, freezing in mid-movement.

The sand, earth, it tasted in his mouth, quite bad, humine, humic acid, the many other ones, nematodes and small spiders, all getting ground up, as his mouth clamped shut, as his body stirred, hands moving rapidly, aiming at the foreign heat sources, zooming in, tracking on. And on, fingering, grabbing at her hands, bent on removing them from his body. Foreign appendages on his, foreign blood on his hands. Nothing good would come of it, of lying around some more. Of trying to spit out what was supposed to be taken in, embraced, quietly, silently, noiselessly, speaking a great number of words.

His eyes opened, to find the green figure he had found falling on him, but a minute earlier bent down next to him, bending down to him, touching him. His eyes spoke of ice. And a little bit of spring maybe. They were good at speaking, they really were. After all he had had some years to practice. And to the speaking eyes, there was a voice, his voice raising, raised to the sky encircling the green youth in his eyes. Green and blue. And some form of red maybe. Hopefully not. “You are perfectly audible.” Dry. Dusty. And it was not because his mouth was still struggling with the dirt in it.

As he tried to erect himself, pluck himself off the face of the earth, he had been pushed unto so unruly, he discovered that actually some more parts of him, with the exception of his face of course, were not hurting. Apparently the fresh and fluffy soil had absorbed most of the impact energy, making it possible for him to still move his limbs quite normally, which he tried out, one after the other, with very little regard to the green lady next to him. It was a time of waiting. “You should have chosen a place on the ground floor to read.” He said with a nod to the white-feathered bird that had landed not far away from them. Really. Some parts did not hurt. That much.

She jerked back a little, surprised and frightened by the sudden way he seemed to seize up, and then again when her hands were quickly and forcibly removed from his face. His eyes opened and she wriggled back again, out of the way for him to sit up and move about.

>> “You are perfectly audible.”

Her lips curled into a frown, one born of guilt and a smidgen of hurt. It was not the response that shamed her so, but the tone in which he said it. She felt like a child being scolded by her parent.... And she hadn't even gotten into the cookie jar...well, not literally at least. She supposed that coming just short of crushing someone under you was slightly, if not more, worse than stealing cookies before dinner. One couldn't break someones back with a cookie.. unless it was a very, very big cookie. Pulling herself back to the present, she turned her attention fully to him as he spoke again.

>>“You should have chosen a place on the ground floor to read.”

Her frown deepened. The lower floors hadn't been nearly as breezy, nor was the sunlight cast just right. She would have had to stuff herself back into her coat and huddle in a dark corner while she read. The upper floor she had chosen was not only much more private- thus she didn't need to feel self conscious about her skin, but it was also warm and window filled.... "I'm sorry... I hadn't expected this to happen. I should have thought more before trying to recover my book." In retrospect, now that she had time to really think, walking out and around the building to recover the book had been the best course of action... to bad she hadn't thought of it sooner. Eying him quickly, she sighed and crawled over to retrieve her book from the dirt. After the novel was back in her hands, she stood from the ground and glanced up to the window she had fallen from. She could see the arm of her coat flapping about up there, having been dragged out the window by her as she scrambled to keep herself inside the building. Her gazed fell then, to the ruffled plants and foliage that she had landed in, before finally landing on the Gardener again. She couldn't quite remember his name... or if she had even received it all those nights ago in the library.

Guilt flooded back from that night as well... She really was a klutz. "Is there Anything I can do for you?..." Her book found its way into her pants pocket; she was glad the sweat's had a good amount of room to store things in, and she fiddled with her thumbs in front of her.

Her frown, any of her emotion seemed to pass right by the cold steel blue eyes. Steely looks. Old looks. The aura of seniority around him had not taken on any appearance of dissipating soon, rather thickened into a choking fog around him, a force field pressing down on the green mutant youth, not dismissing or disregarding her, but rather those eyes conveyed her all the attention she should ever need. Uncomfortable attention. A parent looking at an unruly child. A very unruly child, promising not punishment, but remembrance, faces ingrained for all eternity, promising not hurts, but judgment of her shortcomings. There was no hate, nor anger in those eyes. Not really at least. They were just looking at her. Scanning. Beaming. Before he gave up, chose to stop, and finally got himself fully off the ground, stood quite steadily, for one who had just been hit by a suicidal student who managed to defenestrate herself without intending to. Defenestrated by a book. That was a new one. She seemed so young. So carefree. So utterly in danger of loosing her life to mere stupidity. He hoped, quite silently, that her condition might yet be alleviated, or if not, that her progeny might inherit something better from their father. Otherwise...

His eyebrow rose. On its own accord as he heard her words regarding care and careful planning from her mouth his mind failed to register consciously at first, for such was the way of his thinking at the moment that it surprised him that she even had that kind of insight. Hindsight. And it showed her that she did not have a concussion and was therefore quite eligible to some form of punishment. A mind one. So his response was short and dry. Extra brute to be exact. One word. “Obviously.” He made no movement to help her retrieve her book, but instead wandered off to retrieve his precious gardening instrument, closing his grip around the wooden handle tightly. Feeling at it through his gloves.

And maybe, just maybe, lean on it a little.

His smile really wasn't evil, though it might qualify for a look like evil contest. Nor was the parental supervision aura fully gone, but he still smirked a little at the young missus. He was just considering what might be appropriate, when it... hit him. He shifted the grasp around the shovel slightly. “You may help me by repairing the damage to my work.” And then the shovel flew. At her.

A weak laugh echoed the skies muffled by the sounds of the city as a young winged boy quickly approached a flock of pigeons that dared to fly into his path. Letting out a shrill war cry Carrick leaned forward and flew right through the flock and tried to disrupt the flight pattern of the rats with wings. He didn’t hate pigeons it’s just on the scale of intelligence they were about as smart as a bar of soap and smelled far worse.

Turning and looking back at the flying rats Carrick blinked and started to laugh, instead of panicking and flying off in different directions they all regrouped and continued flying on their path however their current path changed, no longer were they flying towards the city and away from the mansion. They were now making a be line towards Carrick. Flapping his wings causing himself to raise higher and higher the pigeons followed and cooed behind him trying to catch up.

Not knowing why they were trying to catch up to him Carrick continued to fly left than right maneuvering away from them quickly as possible. After a few minutes of the aerial acrobats Carrick heard a screech off in the distance within a minute a brown blur flew past him and into the flock attacking the flying rodents.

Letting out a loud sigh Carrick eyed a Peregrine falcon make off with a smaller pigeon from the group. There was little any one could do but he had to move on, it was after all survival of the fittest in the skies the weaker flyers and the weaker ones like pigeons were often food for the stronger ones like the falcon and when he was shifted in his Gryphon form himself as well.

Lowering on the horizon as the mansion, a place he had learned to call home and with the warmer weather and the sunnier skies more and more people could be found scattered crossed the grounds as the mansion got bigger something in the second story window caught his attention. It flowed from the window oh what a beautiful distraction for the winged teen he wanted to know what it was so he decided to investigate it however as he got closer he did look to see a base ball flying directly at him.

It seemed it was a split second discussion one that he had no problem with acting on. A wing tilt and he turned into the roll escaping the ball by a quarter inch in fact he felt it scrape against his tail as he continued to roll away. With the speed he was going now and the roll he decided to take stopping would have been difficult but luckily Mother Nature had it out for him because a tree seemed to come into view. Trying to upright him and make the world stop spinning Carrick’s wing nicked the branch, which caused it to fly backwards and behind him.

One wing didn’t make flying an easy task in fact it was down right impossible but before he fell straight down he managed to force his other wing into the air however before he could regain flight he realized how close he was to the mansion and what’s more a flying shovel!

”Who’s the ape who threw the shovel!!!!” Carrick yelled as he closed his eyes and covered his face readying himself for impact. However instead of taking the full hit Carrick was lucky enough to knock the handle with his forearms. The shovel continued to fly in its current path the only problem now was it was twirling through the air in an unpredictable fashion.

Carrick continued onto his grand fall and ended up taking a few second dirt nap when his face then his body connected with the soil.

Irish slang: Ape = Fool

Her nose twitched, wanting to wrinkle just about as bad as her lips wanted to puff out in a pout. She wouldn't allow it however, it was not the right time, nor place. His dry comment faded, and she ran a hand through her mass of hair, not really all that surprised when she found a few twigs and what appeared to be a small beetle of some sort. The miniature creature she held onto, the twigs she dropped, then knelt and deposited the bug back in its earthen home. When she turned and looked to him over her shoulder, she had to admit, the odd fashion of smile he wore was one she had never encountered before. Her mother and father generally smiled the same tight lipped grimace, and the few people she had met since slinking into the big apple like a worm tended to smile with all of their teeth and quite a few wrinkles. Her nose scrunched, righting her glasses on the bridge of her nose, and she stood swiftly.

>>“You may help me by repairing the damage to my work.”

He made to toss her the shovel, more of a throw really, than a toss. Her tongue poked out from one corner of her mouth, and she raised her arms to catch the incoming gardening tool... until...

>>”Who’s the ape who threw the shovel!!!!”

The voice, and rapidly approaching body sent poor Andrea into near hysterics when she finally caught sight on it. Her mind whirled, and things went dark and she hunkered over and squeezed her eyes shut. Once the winged one had passed, she made the unfortunate mistake of uncovering her head and whipping around to stare in the direction she had gone.... before a shadow was cast over her eyes, and upon tilting her head up to spot what the shadow belonged to, she felt something solid and heavy connect with her face.

Klonk![/b]

The gorgon uttered something akin to a groan and fell with the shovel. Back met dirt with a solid Thwump, and her legs followed a few seconds later. She found, with the cold ground pressed against her back, that the weight and position of the shovel sitting snugly on her face was rather uncomfortable. On top of that, she could feel the cracked pieces of one of her sun glass lenses threatening to stab her in the eye. With another groan, she hissed and sat up, keeping her eyes squeezed shut as she knocked the shovel to the side and reached to feel what damage her glasses had been dealt.... Being able to poke your finger though an eye hole was a bad thing. "Ow.... " Gritting her teeth, she patted her face carefully, wondering why it hurt so much on one side, and why it felt puffier than usual. Pain, dizziness, and worry aside, she needed glasses... or a binding... anything really.

"I need something to cover my eyes, please..." Oh, her serious tone... she hadn't heard herself use that in a while... why were there little green lights behind her eyes?

He did not even follow the flight path of the tool he had just tried to pass on to the unruly student, nor did he expect any resistance from her. Though she seemed taken aback by him, he would guess, that he was right in assuming she dared not oppose the person she had dropped on. Just assuming that kids had manners these days. Some manners left that was. Decency. Watching. Something that was both unnecessary and time consuming. Instead he bent down to wrap his hands tightly around a small bushy something, most of whose branches had been severed by someone falling on it. That might explain the small needles he felt poking at his backside. Or it might not. His hands tried to pull the plant upright and set it firmly again into the soil. Until his efforts were thwarted by the simple arrival of a voice to his ears. An ape… yes he was an ape after all. Or so the scientists told people. Humans were descendant from apes. And mutants were descendant from humans. There was a line of succession. But the voice from the skies - voice from the skies? Not again; a sigh escaped his lips- did say something else which was far more concerning.
It spoke of a shovel.

KLONK.

The sound was quite unusual really he observed with a somewhat morbid fascination. And not very pleasing to the ear. Was not supposed to be pleasing, for the instance me straightened out his back, he discovered something small crashing down by the tree under which, only a while before, he had begun his planting, upturning the ground, endeavor. As well as Andrea falling down on her backside in this part of the flowerbed (he hoped silently she would abstain from damaging any more of his work), there was now a small entangled thing at the bottom of the tree. And Andrea, too. With his shovel decorating her face quite painfully it seemed. And his first thought, his first words, were describing what had happened not very well.

“Oh s***.”

As he approached Andrea, who was already stirring again, he heard her mumble about something to cover her eyes. It would have to wait. The unulual apple that had fallen by the tree supported limbs after all. It seemed something else had attempted the foolishness of a jump from the upper stories of the building. And that person was in quite more desperate needs than Andrea. Would be. For he had no gardener to rest his backside on.

“Hold that thought.” His commanding voice reached the girl as he rushed past her to the little boy that had dropped from the skies. His earthy gloves left traces of dirt on him as they proceeded, with a sort of mechanical efficiency to check his limbs for broken bones, only briefly touching, skimming, scanning movements. In mere seconds the first step was complete and a second followed. “Hello. Can you hear me?” His voice was calm. He wasn’t. This was a crazy day. Children would be jumping from the building by the dozen soon if it went on like that. Two children in one hour. And it wasn’t even tea time yet.

Lifting his head and spitting up dirt he lifted his right hand the hand attached to the arm that took the brunt of the flying shovel and looked at it for a second before shaking his arm out and then trying to make sure there wasn’t a lot of dirt wedged under his skull cap and in his hair. Irritated he looked over his shoulder to find the culprit who threw the shovel as he leaned up and clicked his tongue to the back of the of his teeth making a ‘tch’ sound a few times before he responded.

Carrick’s tail twitched behind him as his wings opened up behind him and extended to get out any excess material he picked up from the crash landing. It was his version of a system’s check the way an airplane checked for malfunctioning parts. It seemed that all systems were go and he would be all right a bit sore but it would soon pass. ”They told me I was thick but not thick enough to throw a shovel…” muttered Carrick his voice thick in his Irish accent.

Eyeing the man behind him to check and see if he was alright Carrick nodded and responded, ”Would be fine and dandy if people stop throwing stuff at me… first a baseball next a shovel next thing you know I’ll get a elephant thrown at me…” Carrick started to mutter about people being jealous of his flight as he stood up and shook his head before pulling his wings back to their normal position when he wasn’t flying.

”I got hit in the arms not the head,” Carrick said as his attention turned to Andrea a girl he had met before. The green skin and black hair was a dead give away. ”Hey Andrea!” Carrick said as he made his way over to Andrea and then looked at her. ”Why you need something to cover your eyes, you won’t be able to see…” Carrick rummaged through his pockets and pulled out his flight goggles he used when it was poor flying conditions so he could see.

Walking over and holding them out Carrick lifted them, ”Here, don’t lose these I need them!” Carrick said as he handed over his flight goggles that were just tinted swim giggles that was built to make sure no water or wind could enter.

>>“Hold that thought.”

Holding... she could do that, right? Her bum was planted firmly on the ground, her legs weren't going anywhere without her, the world was still spinning a little but... holding was an excellent idea.With a stiff nod, she happily resigned herself to waiting. Blissful waiting. She could hear shuffling of feathers and feet and the quite murmur of voices, before it was drowned out by a ringing in her ears. The lights dancing around the inside of her eyelids were fading, sadly, and her face was starting to smart something fierce. Once this was all over with she would need a bag of ice... yes. That sounded wonderful. A nice, cold, non-shovely, Bag. Of. Ice. Whatever swelling still clung to her by then would rue the day... and such. A hand wandered to her forehead, rubbing away a mounting headache, before she dropped it back into her lap and fiddled with her broken glasses.

>>”Hey Andrea!”

The dark haired woman jumped, having not expected to hear a voice directed at her, or as close as it happened to be. Once she relaxed again, she realized something and paused before answering... Her eyes would have narrowed, had they not been clenched shut. She knew that voice... It was strong with an accent, but youthful. Without a face to properly identify it, she had to pick her memory clean in order to figure out to whom it belonged. "...Carrick?"

>>”Why you need something to cover your eyes, you won’t be able to see…”

her mouth shot open to explain, then jerked shut again as the movement caused her pain. She rubbed at her jaw carefully, fingers tracing up to her cheek where the swollen feeling was only getting worse. Hadn't she already explained her eyes to him?... With an inward shrug, she let the subject drop without a word. It wouldn't matter as long as she got something to- ”Here, don’t lose these I need them!” Something was dropped into her hands, effectively starling her. her fingers found that they felt like... goggles?... why would he...? No... never mind. Without a moments hesitation, she tugged the goggles on over her head and fixed them into place before cracking an eye open warily. They were a bit lighter than her origional glasses had been, but as she glanced up at Carrick, she found that they seemed to be just as effective. It didn't matter that she probably looked like a big... nor that her face was probably bruising as she sat there... She was content. "Thank you... Really."

Slipping to her feet, she dusted herself off again, and removed a few twigs from her person, before stooping to pick up the shovel that had been sent her way. Upon righting herself, she sent a sheepish look Carricks way and scratched at her un injured cheek. "I don't have a bruise on my face or anything... do I?"

Upon seeing that the younger child was seemingly alright, making all these checks of his appendages, including an ominously swaying tail, his stance got somewhat more relaxed. The tail got a quick look. The wings too. Both a little dirty, but it appeared as if the kid was, quite as he said a little more resilient then the usual teenager. Or maybe it had just been dumb luck that he... had not been caught by anything else during his...supposed flight. Mild irritation was still there at the fact that this one had not had suicidal tendencies, but rather the ability to launch himself of buildings with security. Something somewhat useful, if it were not for the inherent insecurity of the grounds, the inherent insecurity of self propelled wingspan usage. Practicing that power must be somewhat hazardous by itself. As if in defiance of that fact, he commented the child's utterings with another one of his dry sentences.

"I cant do elephants...."

it hung in the air, got hung there by his tongue. Somewhat in need of interpretation. He was not inclined to give it just yet.

He followed the early teen to the still quite earthbound Andrea, with whom he had relations. Even more then tow roof-jumping teenagers had. Unusual. Delusional to think that such a common and rare hobby might go unnoticed by the other. It seemed to be a pastime not worth his consideration though.
At her words he eyed at the now be-glassed girl and the colorful bruise that was already developing (rapidly) on her cheek. A very big bruise. And the swelling was getting worse by the minute it seemed to him. "There is a bruise." He therefore stated. "We should get some ice for it I believe. I think there should be something in the kitchen." Hopefully there was some in the freezer.

He started to step forwards, placing his right hand at Andreas arm, just in case she might fall for a spell of dizziness. Of course just for that reason. It was not that he was afraid of having marred her face. Not really. A thin lipped smile turned towards the bird-boy again, blue eyes searching. "So, have you, too lost a book?" or your mind? innocent questions. So innocent.

A smirk was quickly directed towards the man who he had assumed had thrown the shovel why threw it Carrick didn’t know but Carrick figured the ape lacked sense or at least enough to know that throwing shovels was dangerous. Though he was quick witted at least quick enough to comment about the elephants.

After Andrea expressed worry about her face Carrick looked it over and kept a straight face still searching for the answer. There was definite swelling however as far as bruising was concerned…. Her skin was green… it was defiantly harder to notice the bruising. Carrick nodded in agreement with the ape, ”Defiantly got some swelling going on, starting to look like a sea sick chipmunk…” Carrick said as he smirked and backed up to allow Andrea to her feet and Martin to her side.

Carrick tilted his head and said, ”Ice would be a good idea, or Doc he does the permanent quick fix” nodded Carrick as he turned to the ape’s question. ”Ummm…. Book?” asked Carrick, the only books he had seen was the textbooks he left somewhere… where it was he wasn’t sure but he knew he would find it eventually it wasn’t like a test within the next few days or anything.

”Are you talking about my chemistry book or my English book?” he was going to throw in the other two books he …er misplaced but decided not to. ”If you did there should be a big chemical burn in each, if not you can keep them, cause they aren’t mine.” he paused for a second then looked at the ape, ”Name’s Carrick, can I ask why you threw the shovel?”