Was that, a compliment? She eyed the purple and pink-haired general thoughtfully for a moment before dismissing the possibility. Despite spontaneous hugs and awkward suggestion-laced agreements he was not the one. A friend, of course, but a bedfellow? Decidedly not. She nodded at the lizard-boy, she was not comparable to her chocolaty cookie-goodness.

So the new boy had heard of the incident on Christmas eve. Well, with the amount of coverage and the bragging rights it gave the mansionites in general, it made sense that he would have. She smiled at him, his cookie-sin was forgiven, although she was a little wary of his sarcastic streak.

“Mostly the day was everyone sleeping, then groaning about their bruises and recounting the night before, at least in my room it was. But the fight was pretty epic.”

He liked running, and sports. While not an expert on the sporting facilities of the mansion she had seen the pool, oval and courts for assorted ball games all available on the school grounds. While having to stay inside the mansion grounds seemed harsh to an outsider, to someone who knew how much was on offer, it didn’t seem too bad.

“The library here is three stories tall, so I’m sure you could find something you’d like to read, just don’t get stuck on the top.”

Because that led to all kinds of awkward things, and the eventual disapproving rescue by the gardener who thankfully had a ladder. Old enough for what? To drink? He didn’t look it, but then again, who knew with mutants how old they were just by looking. The lacing of that comment was almost a challenge, but she didn’t really care to try and guess, it wasn’t directed at her anyhow.

Placing the three takeout boxes into her side bag which she had bought on the day she met the police officer, Elizabeth, she picked up her glass and moved to lift the tray of cookies. Sawyer, the blonde, spirited it away from her, with an offer (insistence?) of assistance. With a nod she grabbed one of the cartons of milk and joined the procession heading towards the lounge.

Focussing on the purple haired general she eyed him carefully, he didn’t look too crazy today, and she decided that while she wouldn’t broach their last meeting, she should at least check on him.

“You feeling ok today general?”

The last thing she wanted was a tear-soaked hallmate, but it seemed polite given the fact that the last time they had seen each other he had kicked her out and dissolved into sobs. He had ventured to the ‘dirty’ kitchen though, so he had to be better than he was.

((OOC: We going to skip straight to the living room?))

Juka nodded his agreement with Cafas' assessment of Verdy. He barely understood the general rules of decency as it was, at least when it came to the less serious ones that encompassed looks, flirting and hugs, so he certainly wasn't the one to tell Cafas whether or not looking a woman up and down was rude. If it bothered her she should say something, simple as that.

As the conversation continued around him, Juka began leading the way to the living room. He sent Koga a confused look. "What do you mean we discuss Verdy like she isn't here? She's a lovely princess of a woman and she's right here with us." He pointed her out helpfully to the reptilian sometimes ninja. "I am the fashion extraordinaire, Koga, so of course I can help you out with your sewing dilemma."

"They sound like typical parents to me," Juka replied with a shrug, though his voice did hold a hint of sympathy. "At least they just sent you to school and didn't completely ex-communicate you from the household." Mostly he was ok with what his parents had done to him but sometimes it still bothered him. Who were they to judge his lifestyle choices anyway? It wasn't their life, after all.

"Clay Cthulu was definitely not what I'd consider to be fun," Juka agreed with Verdy completely. "I had bruises for a week after that fateful day." At least he'd had the good feelings associated with being part of saving the city though. That was nice.