Screwdrivers, one can never have enough screwdrivers. Lovely screwdrivers. Screwdrivers. Cafas happened to be holding a screwdriver. This screwdriver happened to be in use, unscrewing a screw, as was its purpose. The reason for this was yet to be seen, but he knew it. He smiled as metal struck carpet almost inaudibly. All was in place. Precarious, precarious place. To be fair he needn't have taken the time given the nature of the task, but there was something about using ones powers that on occasion felt like cheating. This time guile was the name of the game. There he sat, staring down the bartender, setting in motion a chain of events that would hopefully lead to something fun and interesting. His entire night was in the balance. Its task complete the screwdriver was tucked discreetly into a small backpack the mutant had brought with him. The bonus of getting somewhere before anyone else, your bag was almost never checked, and even if it was, they'd not find anything of interest without opening a false back. He thought at first it may be going too far but after the horrible prejudice his X-gear had been met with previously he felt in necessary.

This waiting is going to kill me.

The stool to his direct right sat, looking perfectly innocent, just waiting for someone to sit on it. Even then it would take a good shift in weight to trigger the trap, like turning to see who was talking to you. It was utterly perfect as far as his plans went. There were ways the plan could go wrong, but they would be amusing none the less. The barman was eyeing off Cafas again. Perhaps it struck him as odd that Cafas had ordered a cola, nothing more, but he quickly turned away again. So Cafas sat as the club began to fill up and the music got louder, occasionally getting his drink refilled. Still, it was too early for many people to be coming to the bar. Then 8pm rolled around and the stools around him began to fill up, but, like often happened when one was a solitary male at a bar in a club, the adjacent seats remained vacant. This wasn't something to be concerned with; they would soon enough be the only options. As such he adopted a happier disposition from the previously mildly cheery one.

Button up shirt, black and blue, check, nice jeans, slightly faded, check, boots, lace up black, check, black jacket, fashionable, check.

He really felt silly but hey, he needed to meet new people, and he assumed this to be the best way. Well, more the way that could lead to the most entertainment for him. He needed the cheerful times; he was still in a constant state of ignoring his own pain. The newer scars on his chest kept reminding him of it, but, well, he had to get over it eventually. Thinking about it made him finally crack. "Hey mate can I grab a double of bourbon?" His I.D. was taken, inspected, cross referenced with his face and accepted. When the barman handed him his drink he brought up what had clearly been troubling him since Cafas walked in. "Why you been here so long buddy? Waiting for someone?" Cafas smiled a little wider and chuckled "Nah, just needed somewhere to be that didn't happen to be my place, and I figured I'd go out for the night anyway so I came here, y'know?" The bartender nodded knowingly and moved on to the next clubber who needed a drink as Cafas dropped his down all at once.

I gotta be careful, can't go using this stuff to numb myself too often.

Lydia wanted to go out. She needed to go out. She had been spending too much time indoors, behind golden doors. She was going through some serious cabin fever. Honestly, in all her time in New York, she hadn’t made very many friends. Not friends who she could go out with anyway, not in the way she wanted. Gawain, perhaps, as he was a mischievous one, one who probably had no qualms with going out for a bit of clubbing. But he had a girlfriend. That was a whole other mess Lyd didn’t want to get herself into.

She just wanted some fun. It had been way too long since she’d had any proper. So she decided she’d go out alone, as much as she preferred the company of others. Even if it was lonely at first, the dancing of strangers and glasses of vodka would soon fill the void.

At around seven-thirty pm, Lydia went out into the streets, dressed in a hip-hugging black skirt and a cropped, mint-colored tank top. The weather in New York was finally starting to warm up, and she was loving it. Summer meant fewer clothes and no more shivering. She waltzed into the night life, instantly gravitating to a club with mind-melding music blasting out of its doors. She passed the bouncer with ease, and quickly joined the forming crowd inside. She tried to dance for a little, but found she couldn’t quite get into it.

Some alcohol would hopefully remedy that, and maybe she’d even find some kind person to buy it for her. She moseyed over to the bar, slipping her fake ID out of her clutch. On her way to the bartender, however, a head of pink hair distracted her. Pink hair…where had she seen pink hair…? Lydia’s face scrunched in thought as she took a few steps toward the familiar head, and the empty seat next to it.

The teenager took the stool, and glanced ever so slightly to her left, trying to see the mystery person’s face. But they were turned away! When the bartender came over, she ordered vodka with sprite, continually looking out of the corner of her eye at the pink-haired guy. Finally, she decided to just turn around and ask, “Hey, this might be kind of weird, but do I know—ah!” As she spun around in her seat, the seat collapsed.

“Mothereffingstool!”

“Hey, this might be kind of weird, but do I know—ah! ... Mothereffingstool!"

Mischief managed. The -not actually swearing- swearing made Cafas smile, though the voice seemed vaguely familiar, he recalled a coffee was involved. He suppressed the fit of laughter threatening to break out quickly as eyes yellow with glee turned quickly to the girl who had just fallen, in what seemed like an appropriate amount of time to be reacting to something, face instantly concerned. In less than a second he was crouched next to the girl and started assisting her to her feet. Then, he saw her face. He knew her. EVEN BETTER! The prank could NOT have gone better. "Lydia? Wow haven't seen you in ages, are you okay?" Concern laced his voice, rather than jubilant laughter that was trying so hard to force its way out.

That, could not have gone better...

Lifting Lydia to her feet he cleanly turned away a guy gunning for his recently vacated spot at the bar with a single extended arm. "Here, take my seat, it's held me up so it shouldn't collapse like that one." and thus extended arm became one inviting her to take his eat rather than deflection of some random guy whose look suggested he was most certainly a techno fan and build put him in no position to challenge Cafas' stool defence. Seat safe and Lydia standing he again bent down, picked up the pieces of the stool, finally letting his grin out again while he gathered them out again and a bit of silent laughter that could have been passed off as simply produced by his movement. Returning to a more concerned look, with a 'happy to see you edge he stood, ex-stool in hand, which he promptly sat on the bar before turning back to the girl. "Wow, what are the chances huh? Least you didn't spill your drink." he chuckled slightly at the memory. Speaking of her drink, it had just arrived. He didn't even hesitate in paying for it, the tip sizable for the convenient timing.

Ka-ching

Ow, ow, ow, ow… Was all that repeated through Lydia’s head as she saw stars. Well, not exactly stars, but she was still reeling a little from the sudden shift in gravity, and her backside stung. She hardly registered the stares she was getting, or the few men around her who were asking if she was alright. The only thing she heard and saw was a familiar voice coming from a familiar face.

>> "Lydia? Wow haven't seen you in ages, are you okay?”

So she did know the pink-haired guy! Except…what was his name again? C-something she was sure…Ca—Caf— “Cafas!” She exclaimed, a little too loudly, “Oh wow, it has been ages. See you’re still…Australian.” What? Obviously her collision with the ground had knocked her brain around a bit, making her spout out strange nonsense. “I-I mean, hey, nice to see you,” Lydia stammered as she was helped to her feet. Apparently Cafas was still fit as ever as well, as she brushed against his biceps. Ahem. She tried not to blush as she got up. The whole situation was embarrassing, not to mention was she suddenly feeling a tiny bit weight-conscious.

>> “Here, take my seat, it's held me up so it shouldn't collapse like that one."

The teenager gladly complied, though she did hesitate a moment before she sat down. Just to be sure, she squirmed around a little in the seat, testing the stool’s resilience as to prevent another collapsing mishap. Cafas was being a perfect gentleman, not even snickering at her fall like some of the less polite bystanders were. It was sweet, and it made her smile. She watched as he picked up the broken pieces of the stool and took a seat on the bar table, to the approaching bartender’s annoyance.

>> "Wow, what are the chances huh? Least you didn't spill your drink."

In the barman’s hand was her drink, but as she started to rifle through her clutch for money, her pink-haired companion paid for it instead. Lydia smirked. “I didn’t spill and you paid for it anyway. Thanks cutie.” So it had been a good idea to go out that night, chair accidents aside. Cafas…it really had been a while, half a year, really. She was surprised she had forgotten him at all, their previous engagement having been so memorable. Perhaps they were being given a chance to start over. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh wow, it has been ages. See you’re still…Australian.”

He resisted the urge to give her the well deserved ‘NO WAI!?!’ and instead opted to just listen to her. While she finished tripping over her words he pushed his glass towards the bartender in a gesture of 'more of the same'. Wait, had she called him cute? First time for everything. He pondered where this left him, but took the evidence of modern society to suggest cute meant attractive in a good way. That pleased him, he could do with an all night distraction, no matter how expensive she may be to maintain.

Hmmm, how've I been, let me think about that.

"Ah y'know, same ol' same ol', though my day just improved considerably." damn that accent and its ability to show up when he drank, even with very little in the tank so to speak. Well, clearly America was not going to win the battle for his voice. What did he care, it helped him meet girls. Yes, girls, not guys, not any guy at all ever that he was attempting to ignore. No, girls. Lydia was a girl. She was a pretty good looking girl too, and she seemed to like fun.

You can't even lie to yourself, that is how much you suck at lying, you need to work on that.

"How about you? Stool aside you been okay? Found a place to stay?" Now to act like nothing in the world matters but what she is saying at the same time and trying to seem like you don't care that much. A skill mastered through practise. He did not have practice. He would stick to just paying attention. His drink arrived, was payed for without taking his gaze off Lydia, and finished in yet again one swift movement. Yup, it was likely time to slow down, he'd do that soon.

I swear to remember tonight, just make sure the rest of the brain and body is informed of that one for me will you?

>> "Ah y'know, same ol' same ol', though my day just improved considerably."

That answer made Lydia smirk again. Naturally, she didn’t know what “same old” was for Cafas, but if he was going to stick around and dish out compliments, it was all right with her. His accent was enough to make her melt. She had been expecting to spend the night alone, but here was a good-looking acquaintance suddenly offering his time and money. Normally she wasn’t this lucky.

>> "How about you? Stool aside you been okay? Found a place to stay?"

“Yeah I suppose. A few crazy things have happened over the past few months, but nothing too life-threatening.” Not including assassin crossfire, deadly spiked mutants, and Mardi Gras craziness, of course. “I’m staying at the Sanctuary. It’s the place my friend told me about so…” She trailed off, thoughts of her friend, Phil, and all the other ones she had left behind in California popping up in her head. She cringed a little, guilt overtaking her. It’d been a while since she’d let herself think about it. Obviously she didn’t like to.

Lydia bit her lip, but quickly regained her composure. She shoved the guilty thoughts back into a box and duct taped it shut. She took a long sip of her drink, plastered a smile on her face, and looked up at Cafas again.

“I remember you mentioned something about living at that mansion, Xavier’s school for mutants or whatever? I’ve made a few friends there.” It was strange how she had never seen him around. Although, she’d primarily hung around the infirmary all the times she had visited, so that was probably why. She needed to properly explore the place one day.

“So Mr. Cafas, why’re you here by your lonesome? Attractive guy like you, I’d expect you to be with at least one lady friend,” Lydia teased, taking another sip of the vodka. The warming liquid was definitely helping her to push away any stray depressing thoughts.

The sanctuary? Wasn't that where Meld had been living at one stage or another? Well, Lydia did not seem like Meld, he'd be giving her the benefit of the doubt. "Yeah I heard they have some pretty nice doors. I considered taking part of them when I got here but figured it'd end up more trouble than it was worth..." After all, what was he supposed to say to someone when selling them a hunk of gold? Then again, it was New York, they probably wouldn't ask. Still, that would have sucked if they had been the one undercover cop he tried to sell his stuff to.

Using an untested fence? Yeah you would Noob.

Now to his living arrangements, oh goodie, well, she already knew really. "Yeah I have a room up at the mansion. Haven't seen you there but that's probably my fault, tend to be in my room doing stuff or training, or both." Yup, that was his life outside of stopping street crime. He wanted to go through a few more danger room scenarios soon, he made a note to do just that. A mental note, as he didn’t have a pen and all his paper was actually illegal to deface.

Nyan ny-ny-nyan nyan nyan nyan... Wait what? Oh right, attractive guy, girls, conversation.

"Ha! I don't go out enough to meet girls to hang out with; I barely hang out with anyone, except my roommate when he's around. How about you? I don't see anyone else around, which just doesn't seem right to me, that you'd have to go out alone. Lucky I was here to fix that huh?" His smile didn't falter for a second, what did he care? He had a relatively hot girl to talk to and hopefully the night might go well for him, in a more innocent way than one might presume of a twenty year old male.

Okay time for something a bit more... moderate.

The bartender returned and the look of dismay that crossed his face when Cafas ordered coke could not have been clearer. He couldn't chare as much for plain coke. When it arrived he sipped it, was refreshed by the cola taste, and paused for thought on the matter of the superiority of either Coke or Pepsi. He then turned back to Lydia and pointed to some punk or metal head or some such clichéd person with more piercings than face. "That guy has been staring at me for the last hour, I don't know why, but word of advice, if he gets too close, you might wanna stand back cos it won’t be pretty."

We're out to have fun here, don't go picking fights. Just fight them as necessary.

>> "Yeah I heard they have some pretty nice doors. I considered taking part of them when I got here but figured it'd end up more trouble than it was worth..."

Taking part of them? They certainly were nice, she supposed, being made of gold and whatnot. But how exactly would Cafas steal them, or a part of them or whatever? He was pretty big, but she doubted he could break apart all that metal by himself. “How would you take part of…” But then Lydia remembered about Cafas’ mutation. Metal manipulation.

The last time they had spoken, they had briefly gone over each other’s mutations, after she’d noticed his eyes changing color. “Ah, nevermind. I remember now.”

>> "Yeah I have a room up at the mansion. Haven't seen you there but that's probably my fault, tend to be in my room doing stuff or training, or both."

Lydia nodded, “Yeah, I’ve only ever been to the infirmary and the kitchen and stuff. Haven’t looked around much.” Her ears perked up a bit when Cafas mentioned training. Did he mean training like how she meant training? Fighting and working on controlling her mutation and whatnot? If so, then they suddenly had so much more to talk about. “What do you mean by training?”

>> "Ha! I don't go out enough to meet girls to hang out with; I barely hang out with anyone, except my roommate when he's around. How about you? I don't see anyone else around, which just doesn't seem right to me, that you'd have to go out alone. Lucky I was here to fix that huh?"

His behavior seemed to contradict his words. He was being plenty cheeky, as indicated by his last remark, but he was saying he wasn’t very social. He was being pretty social with her. “Well, I have made friends here, but unfortunately most of them aren’t the type to hang out in places like this.”

“Hm, pretty cocky of you to say that,” she said, grinning, “You’re lucky you’re attractive.”

Whilst she spoke, Cafas turned to the bartender and ordered a coke for himself. Just a coke? That wasn’t fun, and apparently the barman agreed, judging by his expression. But Lydia didn’t say anything. She continued sipping her drink, and studying her companion, who turned back around when his drink arrived.

>> "That guy has been staring at me for the last hour, I don't know why, but word of advice, if he gets too close, you might wanna stand back cos it won’t be pretty."

At this, the girl couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Males and their stupid need to assert their masculinity through the use of savage physical force. She’d had to deal with that all the time back in LA. Her friends picked fights left and right, and she’d eventually learned to just walk away when they decided to start using their fists. There was no point in trying to stop them when they had their fists set on someone already. But hopefully Cafas wasn’t as stubborn her friends back home. “Maybe he’s just interested in your hair. It is amazingly pink, you know.”

Question self answered, a good sign that someone's memory was kicking in, now if only his would. Cafas had no idea what Lydia's mutation was, or, he did, he just couldn't quite put his finger on it. It didn't matter though, because the conversation moved on. What did he mean by training? Well, he figured that was obvious. "Mostly practise fighting, do the usual push ups and stuff, bit of power practice. I'm getting rather good at controlling it in more minute detail." It was true; he could now form steel roses out of a ball of metal the size of a large marble.

Less about yourself, even if she isn't making it easy.

So her friends, t the sanctuary he assumed, weren't the clubbing types? He knew Meld and Aura, and was instantly thankful that the sort of friends she'd made at the sanctuary weren't clubbing sorts, cos that could get messy fast. In response to her further insistence that he was attractive he winked. "It's all genetic."

I'm at a loss for words when it comes to that line... it hurts dude, mutant jokes just aren't that funny.

Cafas warily eyed off the guy staring at him. Comments about hair were made. Cafas didn't often receive comments about his hair, unusual as it was. "Yeah, I guess it does tend to stand out. It attracts the homophobic and mutant haters though. I was considering going brown with it, and cutting it shorter, just leaving it natural." He turned his full attention back to Lydia, who he had managed to subtly slide closer to. He hoped it was subtle anyway, in the bar; it could have been a slide to allow others more room. Either way it wasn't working terribly well. Height difference aside, the bar just didn't make for a god seat for getting close with. Resort to plan B.

Deploy plan B

Slight observation of the dance floor, slight interest on his face. Two seconds of thinking, faked. This time was used getting in time with the music. Look back to Lydia again, smile. "You wanna dance? Can't spend all night sitting at this bar, or on this bar." Wink again, this time to emphasise his joke. "Not to mention the song selection seems good right now." Plan B in action; prepare to hit the battle zone.

Ah, so they had training in common. Although Lydia hadn’t set foot in the training room in the longest time, truth be told. She’d simply been…occupied with other things (i.e. lazy). She’d love to have another session with Aura, but she hadn’t seen the girl around much at all the last few weeks. She was still too confused to operate the room alone. “Where do you train? At the Sanctuary we have this special room with all this high-tech gear, and that’s where I go. Do you have something like that at Xavier’s?” Maybe they could train sometime. And other things.

Lydia snorted at Cafas’ joke. It was so corny she had to. One of those jokes that were so full of bad they were actually kind of funny. At least that’s how she took it.

>> "Yeah, I guess it does tend to stand out. It attracts the homophobic and mutant haters though. I was considering going brown with it, and cutting it shorter, just leaving it natural."

The girl examined her companion’s hair for a moment, trying to imagine it the way he described. She shrugged, it could work. But then again, it would be less fabulous. It was rare to see such a guy pull off a color like that, much less willingly. It was admirable, in a way, meant he had some stones. “How you even managed to get it that color is beyond me.”

>> "You wanna dance? Can't spend all night sitting at this bar, or on this bar. Not to mention the song selection seems good right now."

Lydia smirked when he winked, and nodded her head. Dancing was a good idea, especially if she had a partner. She downed her glass and slid it across the table, got up, and made way for the dance floor, expecting Cafas to follow. The song playing seemed vaguely familiar, but then again, it sounded like any top forty song on the radio. The bass was low and the beat was quick, and the lyrics were nonsensical. Perfect when you wanted to think nothing and just dance.

Cafas smiled politely at her training room description. Sounded like the sanctuary certainly was a well-funded place. The golden doors seemed to speak for themselves on that front he supposed. "Yeah we have a simulation room in the mansion, pretty high tech, can simulate literally anything from what I understand." He smiled and moved on to the hair.

At the mention of it he glanced back to the guy who'd been eying him up. He was still doing so. Cafas tried to ignore him and turned back to the girl he was chatting up speaking to. "one part bleach, five parts constant dyeing."

Wink received, girl followed. Eyes glued themselves to her... skirt. How nice a skirt she was wearing too. As he entered the crowd he received a rather forceful knock to the shoulder. He could figure whom it was from, he ignored it and kept walking, he wasn't going to ruin a perfectly good night unless he absolutely had to.

The music was louder where they were dancing (or the series of movements Cafas attempted to pass off as dancing) and he realised for the first time exactly why it was called feeling the music. The solid thump of the bass could be felt in the floor, in his chest, and in the crowd. The gap between himself and Lydia was near on non-existent, not that he was doing much to create more space between them. Girls had a funny way of letting people know if they were too close, in his (limited) experience.

Cafas, master of pretending like he knows what he's doing, waited for direct eye contact, without staring, as best he could, and, one second after it was achieved he came out with a line he'd been waiting to use since they hit the dance floor. A classic. "You have really amazing eyes." Genuine smile (because he was being genuine) and continue dancing.