“...and they're all gonna show up, right?” Mat asked as he strolled briskly, backpack hanging heavy from his shoulders.

“Of course they're gonna show, boy. Who do you think you're talking to here? We are going to make us some money today!”

“Okay Bass Man, I'll take your word for it.”

A gust of winter wind slapped Mat in the face, causing him to wrap coat and scarf tighter. Winter, it seemed, had finally laid siege to the great city of New York. Melbourne, as cold and unpredictable as it could get, did not see snow. He wasn't sure whether or not the snow was a lot for the time of the year, all Mat knew was that he didn't overly care for it.

For the last few weeks, Mat had been squatting with a group of vagrants whom he had met in various capacities. They spent most of their time in a burnt out old apartment, the very one he had been looking for when he had met Agnes and helped her fight her attackers off. The other squatters were all fine people, folk Mat could be happy staying with. One man, Mat had hit it off with in particular. The man who was now walking beside him, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a guitar case, taking long lazy strides. He had a small trestle table nestled under his arm. Not a care in the world.

A kindred spirit.

At about 6'6, and with a round gut and barrel chest, Derrick the Bass Man was a big man with a long neck, longer than normal. A neck that marked him out as a mutant. Currently, it was wrapped with three different scarves, but Mat got the feeling that Derrick didn't really mind the cold. They were strolling along a waterfront promenade of some sort, Mat wasn't sure what or where it was. New York it turned out, was on a whole other level than Melbourne and Sydney, and other cities he had been to. It was easy, far easier than he would have liked, for Mat to lose his way here.

Derrick, it turned out, was somewhat of an underground celebrity amongst the street performers and artists and alternative musicians of the city. On the first night they had crashed together, Derrick had told Mat about himself. Juliard trained, Derrick was a prodigious musician, who after several mishaps in his life, became disillusioned with the world. In fit of rebellion, he had turned to the streets as a means to free up his soul and his art. After a nearly a decade or so performing in various clubs, on the streets, and generally anywhere he could, the Bass Man had made a name for himself. Or so he said. With whatever word he sent out through his mystery lines of communication, Derrick had assured Mat that the crowds would come, and that not even the fact of his being a mutant would stop that.

Mat had to admit, he was sceptical. From Australia, New York had seen like a sanctuary for mutants. A place where liberal minded urbanites would accept the new strain of humanity with, at the least, a stoic tolerance. Instead, Mat had only seen the segregation, the mistreatment and neglect of his kind. It was no different here than at home. In fact, in many ways, it seemed worse. Still, if Derrick was speaking the truth, than Mat was curious to stick around and see.

Which had led Derrick to suggesting that Mat make some sculptures of him in action to sell to the crowd. Seeing the potential profit in this, Mat had agreed, and was now hauling the heavy load on his back. He had variety of smaller sized sculptures, as well as two larger ones. The plan was to hold back the originals and duplicate until Mat was unable to make any more. All in all, Mat was hoping to make a decent buck.

The waterfront, Mat had to admit, was a beautiful place. Over the railings to his right, the sunlight shimmered on the water like shattered glass. Tourist boats glided along in the distance, showing off the city to the world's denizens. To his left, cafes, bars and restaurants sat shoulder to shoulder. Some were clearly suited to the upscale market, fancy silverware and priceless glasses. Foie gras, and all that. Other places catered to the more common crowd, those of moderate means and larger appetites. Up ahead, Mat could see a line of sculptures lining the railings. He inspected them with interest as he passed. Some were more traditional, stone people in varying poses. Some were more abstract, various shapes and objects that either held some enlightened philosophical musing on the nature of beauty and aesthetics, or was simply made because it looked 'cool'. Either way, Mat was impressed. He made a mental note to come back here at night and make a few contributions of his own.

Ahead of the sculptures, Derrick finally stopped walking. He craned his long neck around and inspected the area. With a small nod, seemingly satisfied, he sat down the case and trestle and began to unwrap his scarves.

“This is good. You set up shop over the way, and I'll do my thing right here. Let's bring these cats in.” He gave Mat a wide grin, then began to take his shirt off.

When Mat had first met Derrick, he had introduced himself as the Bass Man. Assuming it was some nickname he had earned from the streets, Mat went along with it. It wasn't until a few days later, when Derrick demonstrated why he had the name, that Mat understood.

With his shirt on, Derrick looked strangely misshapen for a man. His shoulders sat too low, his waist was smaller than his hips, almost like an woman with an hourglass figure. His stomach and chest were almost squarely shaped. Very rigid. It was only when the man took his shirt off, that his shape took on that of a double bass. His belly button was larger than normal, an opening which resembled a resonating chamber on an acoustic guitar. Two more 'f' shaped holes sat on the bottom of each rib. Below his belly button, a bridge of sorts held up four thick membrane strings that were attached Derrick's hip, running all the way up his chest, up his neck and stopping just below his head. Now, Derrick's freakishly long neck greatly resembled a fingerboard. With a grin, Derrick slapped his chest. Instead of the meaty thump Mat expected, there was a wooden knock.

He literally was, the Bass Man.

Mat took the trestle and set it up on the opposite side of the promenade. Placing the backpack on the ground, Mat began to unload his sculptures. There were a few people here and there, not too populated. But they had all noticed Derrick now, and they were all watching.

The Bass Man did his thing.

Casey had come out to pick up the money she had earned playing in a restaurant last night, that task being completed she was now just roaming the streets at leisure, there was nowhere she needed to be, one of the upside to being a freelance musician with no ties. Though maybe for Casey there where more downsides to having no ties, like not having to be home in time for the dinner her chef of a brother poured a lot of love and attention into cooking, or not having to stop at the pc store for her other techie brother on her way home from the steady job that she enjoyed writing about conspiracies.

But for a change those thought where not on Casey’s mined right now. Right now Casey was in a good-ish mood, she even had the makings of a smile on her beautiful face, which thanks to the sleep she managed to get last night did not look a day over 25, even though she was actually 27.

the long sleeved top she was wearing in place of a t-shirt aided in keeping a chill at bay along with the knee high socks that she had on under her stone-green trousers, her brown leather jacket was just about enough to keep her sufficiently warm in the chilly, refreshing air as she enjoyed her strolled down the scenic waterfront, though a scarf would not have gone a miss.

Casey decided stop and eat one of the bananas in the brown bag she was carrying in her right hand, her left hand was tucked in her pocket for warmth, leave it to Casey to leave her fingerless gloves at the mansion when there was snow outside.

Seeing a large traditional stone statue of some man looking rather pomp that had a step like base, Casey made her way over to it, yes, this spot would do very nicely.

Casey brushed away some snow and sat in the newly cleared spot, she reached into the bag and pulled out a banana, she silently praised God as she relaxed and watched the world go by.
Casey relaxed and took the view in, the little boats where bobbing on the shimmering water, a mother was taking her bubbly little girl into the backers for a cream cake judging by the expression on her happy little face, a man with an unusually long neck walked along the waterfront with a man carrying a trestle who seemed to be admiring the statues very much, he was probably an artist of some sort, a well dressed man looked at his watch then started running caught by surprise by the time, he was probably late for an important bank meeting, it was a very pleasant picture to watch as she just sat there and enjoying the day, in her opinion the snow made the whole thing that much nicer,

She placed the banana skin on top of the brown bag and put both hands in her pockets, her right hand felt the familiar feel of her harmonica , pulling it out she inspected it with a smile, the warm memory of the day her uncle Ned gave it to her came to mind.
She put it to her mouth and started playing it quietly , there was no particular tune Casey was just making music for the pure fun of it, but soon the indiscriminate notes developed into a familiar tune, the little drummer boy. Casey did not care if it was too early for Christmas songs or not, she was playing for herself not for other people and that was one of her favourites. Casey went into her own little world and everything around her disappeared. With out realizing it Casey steadily became louder as she played, thoroughly enjoying herself, alternating between Playingand singing and the beautiful music travel through the air.

Casey came back into reality once she had finished, to her surprise a blond woman in her mid twenties had stopped to listen, Casey offered the woman a smile, “That was lovely” the lady said as she walked away to go and continue her shopping.

Then something caught Casey’s attention, the man with the long neck was taking his shirt of in this cold weather! The man was almost positively going to do something interesting.
This was something that got the best of Casey’s curiosity, she picked up her bag and walked over to the man putting her rubbish in a bin on the way.

The man looked like a instrument, he had to be a mutant.
Not so surprisingly the man started playing music, Casey was delighted as she listened, a twinkle in her almost angelic, deep blue eye’s. She was delighted by the music but more so by the fact that this man was a mutant and people where gathering around him, just to listen to him play, they where not being aggressive, hateful, fearful, they where admiring him! A great step in the right direction for the acceptance of mutants!
Casey applauded the loudest once the man finished with a huge smile on her face.

She turned and went over to Mat, the sparkle still in her eye, a friendly smile on her face, “G’day” she said with a hint of an Australian accent not wanting to ignore Mat as she browsed his stall curious to see what he was selling.

Ooc: thanks for rping with me! ;D

As he was setting up his things, Mat heard the sound of a harmonica drifting on the wind. It started out as nothing, just someone doodling on various notes and phrases. But soon it morphed into something familiar. A Christmas carol that Mat couldn't remember the name of. He could never remember the name of any carol, save one or two. The harmonica music soon began to alternate with a voice, both taking up the melody at different intervals. Mat smiled, the sound making him feel nostalgic for past Christmases. He spotted a woman resting on one of the statues he had passed, harmonica in hand.

“Hey Bass Man,” he yelled across the way to Derrick, “sounds like you've got some competition.”

“You watch me boy, I'll draw the biggest crowd you've ever seen. I'm the Bass Man!”

Mat laughed as he continued to stock his table. He had to admit, even though he had seen it before, watching Derrick perform was a sight and a half. The guy was half man, half instrument, and he played himself like a virtuoso. Mat knew there was probably a taunt there somewhere, but chances were Derrick had heard it all before. His music was impeccable, and the people watching had started to notice. And then the strangest thing happened.

People began to crowd around and watch.

Mat couldn't believe his eyes. People. Human people. Stopping to watch a mutant perform his art. No burning torches, no raised pitchforks. Just an open mind and an open ear.

“Bass Man statues! Bass Man statues! C'mon folks, who wants one?”

Hopefully, open wallets as well

Derrick finished his opening song and the gathered audience gave a great applause. He began to address the crowd, his mischievous charm and bluster coming through, telling jokes, holding the people riveted. Mat had to admit, the guy was definitely a great showman. .

A woman with long brown hair approached Mat's trestle and began browsing his sculptures. She looked to be a few years older than him, but that didn't stop him appreciating her...aesthetic quality. She smiled at him, and Mat couldn't help but notice her gorgeous blue eyes.

Always, the blue eyes.

>>> “G'day.”

Now that was interesting. Her accent was unmistakably British, but there was a familiar note to it, an unmistakable timbre. The phrase she used finished the puzzle. An Aussie accent. He grinned at the woman, that curious interest, almost pride, that comes when discovering a fellow countryman. Or woman, for that matter.

“G'day,” he replied brightly, heavily exaggerating his own accent. He hadn't realised until this moment, but he must have been quite homesick. More so than he realised. “How's it going today? Anything take your fancy?”

It was then that he placed her leather jacket. She had been the woman on the statue. The one playing the Christmas carol. He gave her a cheeky smirk. “You were the one playing the harmonica before? The competition?” he teased, nodding towards Derrick.


((No problem ;D))

“G’day” was Mat’s friendly reply. To Casey’s pleasant surprise the man spoke with a thick Aussie accent that made her and her expressive eyes smile, Casey could not help it, she was a sucker for Australians accents.


>>>“How's it going today? Anything take your fancy?”<<<

Casey had to be careful here, with that accent and his endearing smile Mat was going to talk her into buying something she did not really want. She admired the figures, they where well made and very impressive, Casey noticed every small detail and she was stunned by the lifelike quality.

“These are very good. They are so detailed!” Casey commented with her English accent returning, “I just don’t have anywhere to put one, I move around a lot you see”

That was true, since leaving England and her family a few months ago Casey had been moving from state to state.
Casey was currently staying at the mansion while she repaired the car she had been living out of yes, but once her car ,Andy as she had named him, was fixed she would leave the mansion and move on, so she did not want to buy thing such as bass man figures for her room because she would not be staying in that room for too long, well that was the plan...but for some reason the car repairs seemed to be going rather slowly.

>>>“You were the one playing the harmonica before? The competition?” <<<

Casey let out a small amused snort when Mat teasingly referring to her as competition.
“Competition? No, I was just enjoying myself. But I’ll take it as a complement if you think I’m competition for him, he is good isn’t he?” Casey replayed glancing towards Derrick as he continued to play, “Is he a friend of yours?”

Casey lingered near Mat’s stall chatting to him when his stall was not busy as she hung around admiring the bass man’s music, valuing the site of humans accepting a mutant standing in the middle of the waterfront making the most of his mutation.
Casey had seen a lot of hatred towards mutants, she had experienced a lot of abuse for being a mutant, her run in with the terrorist group in the far east during her time in the military, and the group of anti mutant protestors that tried to kill her just a few weeks ago on her first day in New York where the first that came to mind, she still could hardly believe the locale villagers had not surrounded this man and chased him down the street yet.

Casey picked up one of Mat’s figures during a quiet spell at his stall, a little mischievous smile appeared on her face, “That cheap? Really? These are high quality!”, she said loudly, if she was going to keep chatting to this man she thought she might as well try and help his triad, she did not want to be a nuisance to him.

Her plan worked and a young married couple quickly came over to Mat’s stall, after a few moments of inspecting the figures the woman smiled and batted her eyes at hubby, her way of asking him to buy her a statue.

Casey watched to see if the woman would get her way, judging by the loving way her husband looked at her, she would.

>>> “These are very good. They are so detailed! I just don’t have anywhere to put one, I move around a lot you see”

“That's a shame,” Mat grinned at the compliment the woman had given his work. If there was a sure fire way to stoke his ego, it was definitely complimenting his art. As he said it, he wasn't entirely sure what the shame was. The fact that she couldn't buy a sculpture, or the fact that she moved around a lot.

“I know what you mean, I tend to move around a bit, myself.”

The woman had given an amused snort to Mat's remark about her as the competition. Mat grinned, despite himself. Beautiful women seemed to have that effect on him.

>>> “Competition? No, I was just enjoying myself. But I’ll take it as a complement if you think I’m competition for him, he is good isn’t he?”

“Oh absolutely,” Mat nodded, a smirk creeping onto his face, “just don't let him catch you saying that. You'll never hear the end of it.”

>>> “Is he a friend of yours?”

“Derrick? You could say that. We've been crashing together for a few weeks. Somehow, he managed to rope me into this little business venture,” Mat replied with a chuckle. “Nah, he's a cool guy. I mean, have you ever seen a mutant actually pull in a crowd who wasn't trying to lynch them before?”

It was actually quite astounding. Mat, while not exactly shy with his powers, was aware that it was usually the more prudent decision to not announce your mutation in public. Derrick was not only displaying his mutation proudly, but the crowd were enjoying every minute of it. Mat smiled widely at this, and looked down at his sculptures.

If Derrick was able to inspire goodwill and trust between humans and mutants through his art, what was to say that Mat couldn't, either?

>>> “That cheap? Really? These are high quality!”

The woman's voice drew Mat from his thoughts. She had spoken out loudly, and as Mat turned his eyes to her he saw that she was wearing a mischievous smile. Was she trying to bring some business in for him? Sure enough, a young couple wandered over and began browsing Mat's wares. The woman fluttered her eyelids at her partner, and with a resigned sigh, the man reached for his wallet.

“Thirty bucks, thanks mate,” Mat said. The man's face seemed to tighten, lips pressed together in a thin line, but his eyes soon flicked towards his wife and with a resigned nod, he paid Mat and took one of the medium sized sculptures. His wife planted a kiss on her husbands lips, took his hand, and started walking back over to where Derrick continued his performance. The man gave Mat and the woman one last glare, before being led away.

Mat grinned and turned to the woman. “Thanks for that.” He crouched down and began rummaging around in his backpack. The image in his head, he hit one of the sculptures in there, and willed a smaller, keyring sized version into existence, a small hole left so she could attach it to a keyring if she so chose. “Here you go, it's the least I can do. And this one can follow you around easier if you have to travel,” he said with a wink. He extended his hand for the woman to shake.

“Name's Mat.”

The man purchased a statue for his wife, he just could not say no to her fluttering eyelashes, unsurprisingly.
He paid Mat with a tight expression on his face and picked a statue from the table, he then handed it to his wife who gave him a thrilled smile then a kiss in appreciation. The pair went back to watch Derrick play and the man shot Mat and Casey one last glare as he went.

Casey smiled at Mat and gently bit her attractive, copious bottom lip as the couple went, this was mostly to keep from laughing at what had just happened, but it was partly because she almost felt guilty for making the comment that led the man to have to part with his cash, but it was mostly to keep from laughing.

>>>“Thanks for that.” <<<

“No worries, it’s a trick I picked up doing car boot sales”, Casey replied as Mat rummaged in his backpack.

>>>“Here you go, it's the least I can do. And this one can follow you around easier if you have to travel,”<<<

Mat handed Casey a keyring size statue along with a charming wink and a smile, which to Casey’s surprise made her give a meek, coy school girl smile back to him.

“Thank you”, Casey said taking the keyring Mat handed her. She gave it the once over and put it in her pocket, she would put it on her keys later. She was as impressed with it as she was with the other statues, more so even as it was so small yet had just as much details as the larger ones.

“Now I will never forget the day I saw such a brilliant mutation being accepted so openly”, Casey said glancing admiringly at Derrick, although it might not have seemed like it she had been paying close attention to ever single note he played.
“... or you”, she added with a smile turning her attention back to Mat, immediately feeling stupid for saying that, it was not like her to make such comments, especially when she purposely avoided using peoples names so she would not get to chummy with them or have to remember them once she left for the next town on her aimless travels.
Mat’s charm and his accent was more engaging to Casey than she would have guessed...or cared to admit to herself.

The man offered his hand for Casey to shake as he introduced himself as Mat.

“Legs”, Casey said introduced herself as she shook Mat’s hand, but she kept the hand shake brief.
Casey knew how important touch could be, so since leaving home she kept all physical contact to a minimum, another way she avoided building closeness or familiarity with people, though this was not that easy for her to do. Back home Casey used to be very affectionate and she missed that, she missed hugging and play fighting etc with her friends and family, especially her brothers.

For the first time since talking to him Casey took a proper look at Mat, she subtly examined him head to foot, long-ish hair, tired pale blue eyes and he looked thin, exceedingly thin, almost definitely homeless, was that due to bad turns of events beyond his control or because of booze or something worse?
That was not for Casey to judge and she was not going to.

Then the thought popped in her head prompted by her altruistic nature, “Would you care for some bananas?”, she offered showing Mat the bag that was in her hand, the good intentioned statement probably seeming rather random.

“I bought more than I needed, if you and your friend can eat them your more than welcome”, she explained.
Casey was not being pitiful towards Mat by any means, she figured she had four bananas she did not need so she might as well share them, Mat looked like he could use something to eat and he could not exactly leave his stall to grab a bite.

As she held the bag waiting for a response Casey wondered to herself why she had bought so many bananas when she only wanted one, she then decided not to dwell on something so trivial, life’s to short.
Just then Bass Man moseyed over to the pair after deciding to take a break from performing, it was as if his stomach had heard the offer of free bananas.
The sudden casement of music did not escape Casey’s attention, prompted by the lack of Bass Man’s brilliant composition she looked round, seeing Derrick heading towards her she shot him a friendly smile.

>>> “Thank you. Now I will never forget the day I saw such a brilliant mutation being accepted so openly... or you”

Mat couldn't help but grin at that. She was right about Derrick and his mutation, it would be hard for anyone to forget something so memorable. Both the mutation itself, and the acceptance of it. Mat knew that he, certainly, would never forget. As for the woman's comment about never forgetting the day she met Mat...

Well, what could he say to that, except to grin foolishly? Flattery, it seems, can get you anywhere.

>>> “Legs.”

At the mention of her name, or what seemed to be a nickname, Mat's eyes dropped down to said appendages. They were, of course, hidden behind a pair of green trousers. Times like this, Mat missed the warmer weather, as well as the the adjustments in fashion that came with it. He grinned to himself, remembering times when he and Trip, and some of the other older guys at the commune would sit outside, admiring the passing...scenery.

Low cut tops and mini-skirts. They was always a good indicator that Spring had arrived.

Legs shook Mat's hand, and he noticed that she kept the hand contact brief. That was curious, though not all that strange. There were all sorts of people who weren't comfortable with touching, even if it was simply a handshake. Especially from strange men, who were clearly homeless.

>>> “Would you care for some bananas?”

Mat blinked and watched as the woman held out a bag. “Um...huh?” Somehow he had the feeling he may have missed something along the way.

>>> “I bought more than I needed, if you and your friend can eat them your more than welcome”

Oh. That made more sense. Mat had to admit, Legs had caught him off-guard with that random question. At her explanation, Mat let out a small chuckle and reached into the bag. “Sure. Thanks.” Mat grabbed two of the bananas, one for himself and one for Derrick. Peeling the fruit, Mat took a bite and let the flavour linger in his mouth. It had been a while since he had eaten fresh fruit. His attention having been focused on the taste of the banana, Mat hadn't noticed the sudden silence. Having excused himself for a brief moment, Derrick made his way over to the stall.

“You're meant to be selling pieces of art, my friend, not chatting up the clientele,” Derrick teased. The Bass Man turned to Legs and gave a wide smile. “Although, I suppose I can't fault you for that.”

“Aren't you supposed to be playing music?” Mat retorted, grinning at his friend's attempt to embarrass him.

“I need a volunteer. I was going to ask you, but your ugly mug will scare away my audience.” Derrick held out a hand towards Legs. “This young lady here is much more agreeable. Whattaya say darlin'? Can you hold a guitar? It'll only take two seconds of your time.”

>>>You're meant to be selling pieces of art, my friend, not chatting up the clientele…Although, I suppose I can't fault you for that.
Derrick’s comment seemed not to bother Mat at all but Casey could not help a small embarrassed smile appearing at the corner of her mouth when hearing it, though she hid it well. Casey didn’t mined though, it was all in good fun.

“G’day”, Casey said gladly shaking Derrick’s extended hand, but she kept the handshake as brief as she had with Mat.

>>>I need a volunteer. I was going to ask you, but your ugly mug will scare away my audience… This young lady here is much more agreeable. Whattaya say darlin'? Can you hold a guitar? It'll only take two seconds of your time.”

Casey was thrilled at Derricks request but she played it cool, she had already made one silly comment and that was enough self embarrassment for now, “Sure, I can hold a guitar for you, I can even play it if you want” she replied with an un-arrogant confidence, happy to make herself useful.

“Excuse me” Casey said to Mat politely before turned back to Derrick, “After you”.

“That was an impressive performance you gave, your very talented.” Casey commented with sincere admiration as she followed Derrick to his side of the street, not that Derrick needed the confidence boost.

“I’m Leg by the way” she said introducing herself while they both got ready to draw in the crowds.

Casey felt proud to be standing next to a fellow mutant and a fellow musician in the middle of the street, okay she did not have a visible mutation like Derrick did, but it still felt good to not feel threatened or hated by the gathering people, none the less Casey kept her guard up she know how fast a situation like this could change for the worse.