It was cold. That was the only thing that went through Lydia’s head as she briskly paced down a street sidelining a quaint park. Absolutely everything was snow-covered. It was the kind of snow that stuck together and was annoyingly difficult to walk through, especially with shoes that offered no protection against water. Before she had come to New York, she hadn’t even known that there were different kinds of snow. “Why why why am I still here? It’s so damn freezing,” she complained to herself, her breath coming out in white puffs with every word. “And why’d I even come outside in the first place? For some fresh air? Ugh, I’m an idiot.”

The sun mocked her as it hung up in the sky, shining bright but offering no warmth. Dia tried walking faster, hoping that the movement would generate some heat and slow down her shivering. Her scarf-less neck and glove-less hands begged her to find some shelter before all of her exposed skin got frostbitten and she turned into a popsicle. You’re going to freeze to death. I hope you're happy. That’s when she noticed a small beverage vendor in the park, next to one of the winding paths.

It was almost like a booth, with a man standing inside it handing out various toasty drinks and foods. Warm drink, now! Her mind commanded as she broke out into a jog. “Hehe, hello darling, what’ll you be having?” The grizzled old man asked kindly as Lydia slowed down in front of his window. Skimming over the menu that could be seen hanging on the wall behind the man’s head, one item immediately caught her eye. “Can I have a hot apple cider, please?” She inquired with a gleeful grin. “You know what, since it’s so cold out you can have this one on me,” he replied with a wink, grabbing a medium-sized cup and filling it with the cider. Steam rose invitingly from the liquid. “Aw, thanks so much,” Lyd said with a bigger smile and a wink in return, receiving the beverage. Old people are so cute.

The eighteen-year-old, with the wonderfully hot drink in hand, turned away from the stand and started following a stone-paved trail leading deeper into the park. She nearly jumped when she noticed a figure a few yards away from her, standing at the side of the path by himself. “Geez you scared me,” she commented, moving closer to the person and getting a better view of them, “Haha, hold on. You’re one of those people, aren’t you? The ones that pretend to be statues? That’s why you’re all grey and still?” As expected, she received no answer or acknowledgement. She waved a hand in front of statue-man's face and stood directly in front of him. He was completely motionless. Lydia’s lips stretched into a cheeky smile as a mischievous twinkle appeared in her eye. Shall we see exactly how good this guy is?

Cold!

Coldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcold.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Mat sat on the park bench, shoulders hunched up, brown woollen scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, bare hands wrapped around his steaming beverage. A quintuple shot coffee, with four sugars. The old man at the drink stall had given him a funny look when he ordered, but Mat liked his coffee super strong, and super sweet. Mat sat, and he shivered. But at least he was away from the Mansion. Not that he could complain too much about living there. It was certainly comfortable enough, and interesting to boot. Not to mention free. But being trapped in one place for too long was enough to drive Mat insane. So he decided today would be a good day to venture out and get a bit of fresh air.

He could taste the freedom in every breath. Freedom of the streets.

That was when an idea came to him. An easy way to make a few bucks. Not that he was in dire need for money now, what with free board and food. Still, it gave him something to do, as a way to pass the time. In his continuing pondering of using his sculptures as performance art, Mat decided to do just that. Use his golems as human statues, those guys who paint themselves up to look like a statue, stand still for hours on end, and make money. It was so absurdly easy, such a simple plan, that Mat had spent a good couple of minutes laughing to himself about it.

So he found some random park, looked for a decent source material to give that nice concrete grey colour. In this case, concrete. And he made himself a life-sized sculpture of a man, gave it a hat Mat had managed to 'acquire', and let it walk several feet ahead so it didn't look as though they were together. Mat had staked out a bench, and commanded the golem to stand within his range, so he could still have control, just in case. Then all he had to do was make the golem place the hat on the ground for collecting money, and strike a pose next to the stone path.

After that, it was down to the waiting game.

Sure enough, people started passing by, slowing to see the spectacle. They would step up close, stare, then smile. A few threw money in the hat before they left. Mat sat in amusement, watching the entire thing unfold. So far, he had them convinced. So far, he had them fooled.

He sat back, sipped his brutally strong coffee, and let a smile creep onto his lips.

After a while, Mat spotted a girl approaching from up the path. He couldn't see her clearly from the distance, but he noticed the lack of scarf and gloves. Wasn't she cold? Mat took another sip of coffee as he watched her gain closer. Suddenly, she gave a little half-jump, as though startled by the sight of Mat's sculpture. Mat, caught off-guard with sudden amusement, choked on his coffee and spat the rest out. The girl began speaking to his sculpture. She was too far for Mat to be able to hear what she was saying clearly, but Mat made out one thing, carried on the wind.

>>> “...That's why you're all grey and still?...”

Muffling his laughter, he watched as she waved a hand in front of the sculpture's face. He saw a smile of pure mischief grow on her face, and could guess what was going to follow. A mischievous grin of his own began to grow. Was she going to try and make the 'human statue' stuff up? Chuckling to himself, Mat waited to see what she would do.

Things were about to get entertaining.

Lydia took a sip from her cider as a cold breeze sneaked its way into her jacket. She shivered again. “Hey aren’t you chilly? It’s like zero degrees out here and you’re not even wearing your hat!” How long had the statue-person been standing out there, striking a pose and staying in it despite the biting winds? He looked miraculously unaffected by the cold, even though his boots and clothes had speckles of snow on them, and his hat had accumulated a decent amount of cash.

“Hm, you’re good, but you haven’t impressed me yet. This is fair game then, yeah? You won’t mind me messing with you a bit? After all I want to get my money’s worth,” Lyd smirked as she dropped some bills in the hat, careful to bury it in deep so the wind wouldn’t carry it away. She stuck her hand out for a shake of agreement, and then giggled when no hand met hers. “Good, I like a challenge.” But she knew she would win. After all, no human being could stay perfectly still while they had someone poking and prodding at them, right? And every human being had a sense of humor. Lydia would make this statue-impersonator laugh.

“So anyway, do you like music? I feel like you’d be a rock kind of guy.” She couldn’t help letting out a little pfffft at her own joke. It was terrible, but it was a beautiful opener. At least it was to someone with the skin-shifter’s brand of humor. She took another sip from her cup. “I bet you wouldn’t mind a drink right now. A hot drink, I mean. I doubt any decent bar’s open at this ungodly hour,” that hour being noon, of course, “You know what, after I beat you at this little game, we should go out for drinks.” No doubt this pseudo-statue would have some interesting stories to tell.

Is this guy even blinking? “Here, I’m sure you really want to move right now, so I’ll give you some relief. I’ll turn around and have my back to you. You’ll be free to move and stretch and whatever you want. I won’t know because I won’t be looking, all right?” Dia promised with a wink, sticking her pinky finger out in the air for a one-sided pinky swear. She held her other hand behind her, crossing the fingers. Teehee, I’ll catch him now. She couldn’t conceal her smirk as she slowly turned away from the grey figure. The second her back was fully to him, Lydia rapidly spun back around. “Hah! I caught—eeeek!” She squeaked as she slipped on the snow during her spin. “Damn ice!” she growled after she landed on her bum, effectively making a fool out of herself. Her eyes quickly darted up to the figure, hoping that she would see some reaction, even a blink, for her troubles.

“Are you for real? How could you stand still during all of that? Not even a twitch of the eyes? I'm actually a little hurt. I thought I would get a little concern, buddy.” What really hurt was her pride.

She stood face to face with the sculpture, talking to it about something. From where he was sitting, Mat wasn't able to hear what she was saying, but soon enough the girl placed some money in the hat and stretched a hand out for the sculpture to shake. Had she been trying to make a deal with it? This prompted another grin from Mat. The girl seemed to be amused as well, giggling away to herself.

The girl began talking again, and Mat craned forward from his seat, trying to hear something, anything. His luck soon changed, right along with the wind, which had shifted directions once more, and was now carrying snippets of the conversation over to Mat's bench.

>>> “You know what, after I beat you at this little game, we should go out for drinks.”

Mat snorted, and began to chuckle out loud. Was she trying to hit on his sculpture? For reals?

That was so precious!

This girl was amusing. The fact that she had stopped to mess with what she thought was a human performer, alone, was enough to tickle Mat's fancy. Trying to use her feminine charms and wiles to make a statue 'man' falter? That was gold! She spoke again, this time holding out a pinky, seemingly for a pinky promise, on one hand, while the other hand disappeared suspiciously behind her back. Knowing she wasn't going to have the pinky promise returned, the girl turned around.

Ahhhhh.

She must have 'promised' not to look while he moved, or something.

Sure enough, the moment she had turned around, she spun back, trying to catch the sculpture in the act of moving. What she managed to catch instead, was a patch of ice, slipping back and falling flat on her bum. Had Mat been a gentleman, he would have stood up and immediately rushed over to the damsel, inquired as to her well-being, and helped her to her feet. Had Mat been a gentleman, he would have escorted her to wherever she needed, volunteering his jacket so as to cover the resulting damp from such a fall.

Instead, Mat began to laugh, hard and loud. He started laughing so hard that he could no longer sit upright, laying himself out flat on the bench while he cackled to himself. It wasn't very polite, he knew, but he couldn't help it.

It was just so damn amusing!

Finally, when the laughter finally subsided, Mat sat back up and yelled out to the poor girl, grinning widely. “Hey! You alright?”

Don't say he didn't do his part in the helping of damp damsels in distress.

Just as Lydia was starting to gather her bearings and stand up, she heard the distant sound of mad cackling coming from somewhere further along the path. She cringed. “Jerk doesn’t have to laugh that loud,” she muttered as she clambered to her feet, carefully avoiding the ice patch she had slid on. The skin-shifter patted the snow off of her now damp behind and glared at the statue-man. He still hadn’t moved. “You’re snickering inside, aren’t you?”

She did her best not to look around for the source of the laughter until she heard it subside and someone call out to her, presumably the same person.

>> “Hey! You alright?”

Yeah, way to ask after you’re done laughing your ass off. I mean, it’s not like I’ve already gotten up and clearly demonstrated that I’m okay. Lyd debated whether or not she wanted to answer and acknowledge the voice, which she traced back to a man sitting on a park bench some twenty or thirty feet away. He had a stupid grin on his face. “Ugh…Yeah I—"

—holy crap, her cider! Her cider…was all over the ground. All. Over. The. Ground. Not in a cup, in her hand, ready for consumption. The way it should’ve been. “You freaking statue, you made me spill my drink!”

Dia felt like crying. Okay, she didn’t, but she was still really, really upset. She had gotten the hot apple cider for free from a sweet old man, and it had tasted great. If only she had gotten to taste more… Suddenly the air seemed even colder than before as she stared at the wasted amber remains staining and melting the snow.

Her focus shifted back to the man sitting on the bench, and she started marching toward him. Taking out her anger on the statue-impersonator would be futile. He wouldn’t react in any way. He’d just stand there in his little pose and wait for people to drop off more money. But this other guy with the terrible sense of humor (at least in Lydia’s opinion it was terrible), he would not just stand there all grey and still. At least, she hoped he wouldn't.

“Hey you! Thanks for none of your concern! Next time you fall over and nearly split your skull open on ice, I’ll be sure to crack up even louder than you did!” Yeah, that'll show him.

She wasn't happy.

Not that Mat could blame her, of course. She had just slipped over and had some inconsiderate jerk laugh at her. Had their positions been reversed, Mat probably wouldn't have been happy either. More than likely, he would have been angry and humiliated. Luckily for Mat, their positions weren't reversed. Which meant, instead, that he was amused.

Not the kindest of reactions to someone falling over, but an honest one.

By the time Mat had finished laughing, the girl had picked herself up. If she wasn't cold before, then she would be now. Okay, that Mat felt bad about. Today wasn't the day for damp clothes, that was for sure. He asked after her well-being, and she seemed like she was about to answer him, when all of a sudden she started screeching, like only a teenage girl can.

>>> “You freaking statue, you made me spill my drink!”

She spilt her drink? Awww, now he did feel bad. He took a long sip of his coffee, sugar and caffeine rushing through his body. Yep. Now he felt guilty.

Suddenly, the girl turned and focused her attention to where Mat was sitting, stomping her way over, filled of wrath and vengeance, like only a teenage girl can. He let a nonchalant smirk settle onto his face as she made her way over, preparing himself for the inevitable tirade. As she stormed over, Mat gave his golem a mental prompt.

>>> “Hey you! Thanks for none of your concern! Next time you fall over and nearly split your skull open on ice, I’ll be sure to crack up even louder than you did!”

He couldn't help himself. She had given him an opening, and the smart-alec in him couldn't resist.

“Well, from where I was sitting you landed flat on your bum. So the only way you could have split your skull was if you had ya' head up your arse.” He gave her a grin, hoping she could see the funny side of what had happened. All said, she had simply slipped over. Mat had had worse falls when he was drunk. She'd get over it. If not, she was weak to begin with. His grin widened, and he nodded his head in the direction of his sculpture.

“Your statue man moved.”

The sculpture now stood facing towards Mat and the girl, with its hands on its hips and its pelvis thrust out.

“Gotta keep your eyes on that guy, he's good”

>> “Well, from where I was sitting you landed flat on your bum. So the only way you could have split your skull was if you had ya' head up your arse.”

For a second, Lydia looked like she might explode on the man. Her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows furrowed even deeper, and her lip twisted into something unpleasant. And then her face undid itself and she began laughing, hard.

“Touché. I guess I just don’t like being soggy and cold, makes for a miserable feeling,” She replied after her giggling faltered. Dia gave the man an inspection and noted his accent. Was it Australian? That would make him the second Aussie she’d met in New York.

…he was pretty cute, albeit in a scruffy way.

>> “Your statue man moved.”

“My statue—?“ She turned around to see what the stranger was indicating. The statue-man, that darned thing that didn’t even lift a finger when the skin-shifter had fallen over had indeed…moved. “What the hell? Oh sure! You’ll move now!” She exclaimed, taking a few steps towards the statue-imitator. Of course he’d budge when her attention was being occupied elsewhere. Cheater!

“Wow, reaaal classy buddy,” Lyd called out sarcastically when she noticed what position the figure was in. She couldn’t help being a little immature, however, and let out a tiny, tiny laugh at him. Emphasis on the word tiny (so tiny she hoped the man next to her wouldn’t notice).

>> “Gotta keep your eyes on that guy, he's good”

“You know, I’m not really enjoying getting mocked by him for some reason,” she said with a raised eyebrow and not-so-well-hidden grin, “Or you.”

She laughed. That was a relief. That meant she had a sense of humour. That meant she was alright. Mat grinned along with her as she laughed. Then she mentioned that she was soggy and cold. A small pang of guilt flicked through Mat's body. Shrugging off his coat, Mat shivered involuntarily as the wind caressed him, and offered it to the girl.

“Here. Till you dry off, at least.”

He could live with being cold for a while. It seemed just, after all. He tightened the scarf around his neck. When Mat pointed out the sculpture's shift, the girl turned and yelled out to it, trying to suppress her amusement. Then she spun back to face him, eyebrow raised and lips curled into a subtle grin.

>>> “You know, I'm not really enjoying getting mocked by him for some reason. Or by you.”

Mat's face became a mask of mock indignity. “Me? I was simply sitting there, minding my own business when I happened to see something amusing. I can't be held responsible for that.” His own lips were curled now, into a knowing, mocking smirk. She still hadn't clued on that he was the one controlling the sculpture.

He wondered if she'd put two and two together.

“Besides, you're going about it all wrong. If you want a real reaction from that guy, you're gonna have to do better than just slipping over. Trust me, I've been watching him. He's like a real sculpture. Seriously.” Hopefully she'd go back and keep messing with the 'performer'. After all, this girl had fast become a great source of entertainment for a dull winter's day.

Stoke the flames of mischief, see what comes.

Lydia watched as the man took off his coat and presented it to her. Part of her—in other words her freezing, damp rear end—really wanted to accept it. And as much of a cliché as being offered a jacket from a guy was, it was still a pleasant gesture. It was nice to receive attention like that from the opposite gender. “Aw, well look who’s being a gentleman,” she smirked as she pushed the man’s coat back to him, “Keep it, I’m not that cold.” She’d feel bad if the scruffy stranger had to suffer the freezing elements for her, even if he had been sort of an inconsiderate jerk before.

>> “Me? I was simply sitting there, minding my own business when I happened to see something amusing. I can't be held responsible for that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh puh-lease.” Honestly though, she probably would’ve had the same reaction as him if she saw someone fall over like that. (Lyd wasn’t ever going to admit that out loud, of course.)

>> “Besides, you're going about it all wrong. If you want a real reaction from that guy, you're gonna have to do better than just slipping over. Trust me, I've been watching him. He's like a real sculpture. Seriously.”

“Well first of all, it’s not like I slipped over on purpose,” a sprinkle of attitude was layered in her voice as she spoke. She glanced back towards the stone-person. “And you could’ve told me when he was moving, you know.” But then again, that would’ve taken all the fun out of the game.

The man was wearing a knowing grin, and it sort of irked her. It was like he was challenging her to something too, although she was not quite sure what. Perhaps it was because he had studied the (mostly) unmoving gray figure for far longer than her, and therefore knew the real scope of the contest? Or was it something else… She mentally shrugged. Either way, the skin-shifter was biting into the stranger’s bait; she decided she was going to continue the challenge she had going on with the statue-impersonator. She thought for a moment, trying to formulate a new plan of action, and an impish idea popped up in her head.

“You’ve been watching him,” Lydia echoed that man’s words, “So you must know something about how to beat him. Come on, we're tag-teaming now.” She grabbed her new friend’s—because yes, she decided he was her friend now—arm and tugged, fully intent on dragging him with her to confront the stone-man again.

Before he knew what was happening, or could protest in anyway, the girl had grabbed him by the hand and was dragging him over towards his sculpture. Apparently, they were tag-teaming now. As he was tugged along by one hand, he struggled to slip his coat back on the other arm. The girl had denied his offer. Her problem, then.

As they approached, Mat's grin grew wider with each step. She still didn't know that he was the one in control of the sculpture. That meant he could keep milking this whole thing for a little longer. With the girl leading the way in front, Mat willed his face into a mask of feigned annoyance and frustration, before she saw his smirk. He didn't want to give himself away too early. “I don't get why I'm suddenly involved in this? You're the one who wants to catch this guy moving. I was having enough fun watching you make a fool of yourself.”

They stopped in front the golem, and Mat gave a slightly exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, isn't this a little juvenile? Trying to make a street performer stuff up?” He turned to the sculpture, eyeing it like this entire situation was a waste of his time. Then he gave another deep sigh. “Fine. Hey mate,” he directed to the lifeless hunk of shaped rock in front of him, “High five.”

He held up his palm, and commanded the golem to slap it's own hand into his. After the action was complete, the golem returned to the position it was in, and Mat turned to face the girl, his expression deadpan bored. Like nothing had happened.

“Seriously. Was that so hard?”

>> “I don't get why I'm suddenly involved in this? You're the one who wants to catch this guy moving. I was having enough fun watching you make a fool of yourself. Honestly, isn't this a little juvenile? Trying to make a street performer stuff up?”

The man had a look of exasperation on his face, as if he had better things to do with his time (he’d been sitting on a park bench by himself…yeah, real busy plans right there). He gave a sigh, a suspicious sounding sigh. “Hey, that’s not very nice,” Lydia retorted, turning from the grey figure for a moment to glance at the man. She suspected he didn’t actually mind being dragged over like that, seeing as he hadn’t put up a struggle, but there was no hint of amusement on his face anywhere. He gave another sigh, and she almost began to think he was being serious until…

>> “Fine. Hey mate. High five.”

The teenager stared, open-mouthed, as the statue-man raised his hand to high-five the stranger’s. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the gray appendage came up, fingers slightly splayed, and met the pink one. No way. No freaking way. “WHAT?” Lyd exclaimed, her eyes wide and disbelieving. The successful man turned to her, his face completely blank and uninterested. She continued to stare for another few seconds, eyes shifting from the statue-impersonator, who had gone back to his regular position, to the mysterious guy who had gotten the former to move. A high-five…a simple high-five…

>> “Seriously. Was that so hard?”

Slowly, but surely, Dia began to realize what was going on. The light bulb flickered on, the hamster began to spin on its wheel, the train started boarding at the station. “No way…” She trailed off. “No way! Wait—how—what the—wha—!” Her tongue did flip-flops in her mouth whilst struggling to figure out what to say to truly express what she was thinking and feeling. It settled for, “That’s cheating!”

She braced herself for the teasing and laughter that was surely to come.

It took every ounce of Mat's strength not to lose it. To stop himself from laughing uncontrollably.

The girl's reaction was priceless. A shriek of protest and accusations of cheating. Cheating at what, he wasn't entirely sure. Obviously cheating at whatever game she had created in her head. Mat continued to stare at the girl, struggling not to break his straight facade.

“How is that cheating? All I did was ask him politely. Maybe you should have tried that?”

Mat turned back to his statue. If she was freaking out this much over a perceived slight, then how would she react to the fact that Mat was a mutant? Suppressing a smile, Mat put his hand on his hip, as though her accusations had bristled him. “Mate, can you do something for this chick? I'm getting the blame for something I haven't even done.”

Taking control once more, Mat forced the golem to take a step forward and extend it's hand for the girl to shake. When, and if, she took the appendage, she would soon realise that the statue she had been taunting was in fact, a statue.

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of Mat's lips. This one, he let slide.

Things were about to get more amusing.

It was pretty obvious to Lydia that this man in cahoots with the street performer. That was why he had been sitting so close to it, why he had conveniently been watching as the skin-shifter made a fool of herself. “It’s not fair if you guys are buddies…” She muttered as he made some snide remark about asking politely. She supposed her reaction had been a bit much, but the man was being so damn calm. He probably wanted to laugh. She’d be a laughing mess at that point, at least.

>> “Mate, can you do something for this chick? I'm getting the blame for something I haven't even done.”

She raised an eyebrow as he asked his “mate” to move for her. A gray hand came up for her to shake. She decided to play along and raised her own hand to meet it. The moment Lyd touched the appendage she knew something was not right. In fact, something was very wrong. First of all, the hand was not made of flesh. No matter how much a person painted and embellished themselves to look like stone, they could not truly recreate a stone-like texture unless they glued actual granite and cement to themselves. Lydia blinked. It was…an actual statue? “Um…”

“Hey! He…you…hey!” The teenager spluttered, pulling her hand away. The mutant man had a dastardly smirk on his face as he watched her react. Absolutely dastardly. A mix of emotions flowed through her: indignation, embarrassment, confusion, and some strange, strange part of her found the whole situation really hilarious too.

Then, a thought occurred to her. “I want my money back.”

The dam broke.

It started as a chuckle. Then a giggle. Soon Mat was laughing. And laughing. And laughing.

And laughing...

Blame it on the sleep deprivation, but the girl's reaction amused him to no end. His knees shaking, his ribs aching from laughter, Mat strolled to the hat on the ground and picked it up. Fishing through it, he grabbed a twenty dollar bill. He had no idea how much she had actually put in the hat, but Mat figured this was ample compensation. He held the money out to the girl.

“H-Here you go,” he said, still chuckling to himself. Seeing the girl run her gauntlet of expressions, Mat burst into yet another fit of giggles.

“You have to admit, I got you good,” he smirked. And during all of this, Mat had noticed that the girl was still here. She hadn't screamed, she hadn't gotten angry. Not at the fact that Mat was a mutant, anyway, which she had to have realised by now. And that meant...

Maybe she was a mutant too?

“Sorry for taking the piss. This was just too amusing an idea to not do.”

Geez, this guy doesn’t run out of breath does he? Lydia thought, eyes narrowed and lips tightened in order to hold back her own laughter, as she watched the man giggle and giggle. Seriously, it was kind of getting out of hand. She was afraid he might topple over from the lack of oxygen or something, or just from the sheer force of his laughter. After he had slowed down his giggling a bit, he walked past the statue (urgh) and grabbed the hat lying on the ground. He handed her a random twenty from it, even though she had only paid five dollars, but she took it without complaining. She was still biting her tongue, trying to prevent any belligerent chuckles from escaping.

>> “You have to admit, I got you good.”

“Yeah, yeah you can keep telling yourself that…” She said, a tiny, subtle smirk on her face. “I will admit that this was a genius idea, though, using your power like that.” He certainly had reaped a sizable amount of cash from the poor, unsuspecting passerby.

>> “Sorry for taking the piss. This was just too amusing an idea to not do.”

The skin-shifter grinned, a full one finally, and moved closer to the golem. “This is nice handiwork, not gonna lie. So I take it this is your thing? Making these stone minions? How do you make them move?” She was 99.8% sure the man was a mutant, so she didn’t think it necessary to go through all of the formalities of asking and such. Dia observed the statue and admired all of the details. It really looked like a real person. But I bet I can do one better, she thought as her grin became devilish.

She brushed her hand across the golem, as if simply feeling the concrete, and started concentrating. Sometimes the activation of her mutation would work like a charm for her, and sometimes it would be a complete pain. It seemed to be a complete-pain kind of day. She closed her eyes, trying to block out other distractions as she pressed her hand on the statues’ shoulder. The teenager tried to make her actions as understated as possible, turning away from the man.

There, Lydia thought with satisfaction as she moved away from the golem, hiding her hands in her coat pockets.