Ilari was intensely relieved when he saw Twyla, even though he knew she had to run. He was considerably less relieved when he was dragged away from the situation, but only because Twyla was getting herself more involved in the situation. Plus, moving hurt. His ribcage was screaming, and all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep for about a week.

And when Twyla spoke, Ilari nearly answered, but then she asked the question that made him realize he'd made a mistake.

"Wh- what do you mean?" he stammered, then shook his head. "Shit. No, I know what you mean." He kept hobbling along in silence, chewing at the inside of his lip. He couldn't well deny it, could he? She had seen what he'd done. What would she do? They had chatted pleasantly, and he had saved her from a bad situation. Surely, she was nice enough that she would understand, and perhaps she was as nice as his mother was? Perhaps she wouldn't care either way, if he was a mutant or not?

Somehow, though, all Ilari could hope for was that she'd give him a head start. That she would count to ten and then call the police or something? And for what? Just being a mutant? Well... he supposed she could call the police because he assaulted a man.

He decided to take his chances.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I'm not deadly, though." That was all he could say, really. Truth be told, he was a bit scared. If she called the police, he'd have to run. His ribs were in such terrible pain, it would be hard to run. In fact, it was hard to keep walking, but he knew he had to escape the scene before the college boy recovered his eyesight.

She'd freaked him out with her abrupt question, but at least he was letting her lead him away from the situation. It would have freaked Twyla out too if someone had just asked her if she was a mutant but she herself was freaking out over the whole thing. Did it make sense to leave the park or were they supposed to stay and wait for the proper authorities? The girl wasn't sure having never been in a similar situation. She bit her lip and clutched her purse tighter with her free hand as she pulled her new charge towards the edge of the park near the low wall that surrounded it in their area.

Ilari finally replied to her question truthfully, which took priority over her first dilemma. It presented a new one--did she tell Ilari that she shared a similar gene or did she keep that information to herself?

Twyla bit her lip again and kept walking, deciding to deal with one thing at a time. "Um, so what do you want to do about--" The girl paused and turned back to look at the college kid and the crowd around him. "that? Should we just go or...?" Twyla didn't really know what came after that 'or' as her brown eyes scanned the sidewalk and street in front of her. There was a bus stop not far from where they were and a few people in the way.

Again the blond didn't wait for a reply, just launched into her next mental tangent. It seemed best, she'd decided to tell him her secret as well--it would level the playing field. Dropping his arm Twyla looked Ilari in the face. "I'm a mutant too." She took a deep breath and held out her hand, which had slowly began to take on the coloring of its surroundings. "See?"

"We keep moving," he responded hastily, still hurrying away from the group of people, who were probably slowly disbanding. Those who had seen the flash of light were hanging around, likely wondering what they were supposed to do. Ilari trudged on, through the pain, and slowed down once they were far enough away.

Despite his determination, he noticed how quiet Twyla became, as if considering something. He expected that she was considering escape, despite how she was helping him out.

He stopped when Twyla did, and looked to her face. She looked determined, and, again, he irrationally feared that she was going to do something against him. He took a small step back, ready to run, in case she gave him a head start.

Wait what?

He stared at the girl's face, wide-eyed at her admission. Then he watched her hand, and his shoulders drooped ever so slightly. Gently, he lifted his hands up to touch, experimentally, at her color-changing hand, as if trying to tell if what he was seeing was really happening. An apologetic look spread over his face, and he looked to resume eye-contact with Twyla.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, holding her smaller hand in both of his larger ones. "You're such a sweet girl. I hope... you haven't had any hardships because of this." In his mind, a mutation was a blessed curse. Such spectacular powers were granted to a lucky (or unlucky) few, and yet they caused so much trouble for their owners. He, himself, had completely withdrawn from society because of his, though, of course, other reasons weighed heavily on his actions. However, he had his mutation to thank for his complete removal.

Ilari stared distantly at Twyla's hand as his thoughts drifted along, and a sudden, acute fear for his little sister struck him. What if she was a mutant, too? Twyla looked so much like her...

Of course! It made perfect sense to keep moving and get as far away from a bad situation as possible. That's not what Twyla did, but she totally understood the logic of running away from problems. In fact, it was her preferred method of dealing with things--thus far it had served her well enough and it seemed like every time she tried to take a different path she took someone down with her and her stupid decisions. The blond did not keep moving and neither did the man.

Did he flinch? It looked like a flinch and a bit of a backpedal was the response to Twyla's pausing to tell him a secret of her own. The flinch didn't register until after she'd spoken. What the heck? For a moment it had seemed like he looked afraid of her, like she was going to do something to him.

When she told him, Ilari looked at Twyla as if he was shocked. A moment later he looked a little sad and he touched her hand hesitantly. Another deep breath and soon her power was reaching out to his fingers, reacting to the weak bond as if with the urge to protect and hide the man's hand as well. A small smile played out across her face when she noted that his fingers were disappearing as well. It was always strange to watch her own mutation in action but it was also a little gratifying.

The smile turned from mildly pleased to confused. Why was he apologizing? He held her hand inside of his in a comforting gesture that reminded the blond of the local pastor at her church and the way he held people's hands when they were grieving as if to say without words' I'm so sorry for your loss.' Ilari's words felt the same way in Twyla's ears and part of her wanted to pull her hands away and yell at him for treating her mutation like some kind of disease. The rest of her quieted this urge. She did pull her hands away (severing their physical connection and removing the camouflage from his hands), but only to use one to point. "There's a bus at the stop, if were hurry we can catch it."

Her brown eyes had seen the movement from their corners and were now focusing totally on the city bus to distract their owner until she could find something clam and collected to respond to the apology with.

The changing colors of his hands were mesmerizing, but Ilari was startled from staring at them when Twyla jerked her hands away. He let his own arms fall to his sides, but moved one up to his chest. Unfocused, he watched as Twyla looked for a bus stop. The pain really was intense.

"It might not be a good idea to stick together," he murmured. If someone did decide to call the cops, they would be harder to find if they kept apart from each other. They'd be looking for a man fitting his description - and, face it, he looked very normal, in New York City - and a young blond woman. Together, they might have been notable. Apart, they looked like two normal residents of New York City.

"Besides," he rasped when he moved wrong and aggravated the forming bruises. "I need to go home and take care of this." The sentence was punctuated with a motion toward his midsection. He would take care of the injury at home, and maybe just go hungry for a little while, because he really didn't feel like going to buy food with such an injury, though bruised ribs were better than broken ones, he supposed.

"Well..." Twyla bit her lip and tried to find the logic in his assertion that they probably shouldn't be sticking together. It made sense--they'd look like the 'pair from the park' if they were in a pair. The blond totally understood the logic but she felt guilty about the state that the stranger was in because he'd been defending her. Why were people always doing that? "I guess that makes sense." A wrist twisted around and the hand connected to that wrist dug in one of the large pockets of the purse on the girl's shoulder.

A piece of paper and a purple pen appeared along with her reappearing hand. Quickly she bent her waist she she could write using her legs as a supportive surface. It wasn't unsafe to give someone your cell phone number--this guy didn't know her last name or where she lived and besides, it was prepaid phone, she had to buy minutes on it and all that. She could always get a new one if Ilari got all creeper on her anyway. "Here," she shoved the the half sheet of paper in his palm with her free hand while she dug in her purse for a second again. This time she had another granola bar clenched in her fist. "take this too." She shoved it into his palm again and gave him a weak smile.

"You can use that number if you need to, I know about a few places that are friendly to people like us and I'll try and help you if you ever need it. What you did back there--" She started and then looked away. The bus was now adding its last people. "Thank you." Twyla looked in the man's face as she said the two words and there was a grateful look on her face but something in the back of her eyes had gone hard as she thought about the college kid and how she's felt a few moments ago. She was always feeling like that.

The bus Twyla could use, she could transfer on to her usual route back to the Mansion with that bus. "Well...You should get that looked at, Ilari." The girl pointed at his torso, her face twisting in guilt for a moment. "Don't be afraid to call. I'll help you if I can. Good luck!" The girl smiled and then turned and started rushing to the bus. She made it right before the doors closed and boarded. Twyla found a seat in the back section of the and she got a window seat. As the bus pulled away from the stop she pressed her head against the cool glass of the window. I really need to be the rescuer one of these days...

A combination of the pain in Ilari's chest - which caused him to breathe shallowly - and his still not sated hunger caused the man to shift in and out of focus. He barely registered Twyla's agreeing and writing, until he noticed that he was being handed a phone number.

And a granola bar.

A genuine smile, marred somewhat by the pain and fatigue on his features, spread along his mouth as he took the paper, and he started to feel a strange warmth in his chest. He was touched by the kindness extended, not only in the phone number, but in the second granola bar, as well. He slipped the paper and the food into his pocket, for later use.

It took a bit of conscious effort to listen to Twyla's words. A safe place for people like them? Mutants? That sounded... interesting. The thank you reached his ears a bit late, as he was thinking too hard. When he registered it, however, he offered a genuine smile.

"It's no problem," he breathed, trying to dismiss his good deed and his injury as small things. "I've had worse..." He flashed a grin, and lingered long enough to make sure Twyla got onto the bus. Once he was certain of that, he started off, down the street. It was time to run home to lick his wounds. It was possible, he would have to go another day without a proper meal, if his injuries were as bad as he thought.

All in all, it was a successful day. Ilari had some food, a little bit more money, and, most importantly, a new friend. And, despite the pain in his ribs, he had an odd bounce in his step, as he hurried away from the scene. Maybe that was what it felt like to be a hero?