Black.

It was his sense of sound that came back first. His eyes were closed, and he wasn’t really awake, but he could hear everything in his environment: The beeps and chimes of the various machines. The distant distorted voice of a PA system paging someone he’d never heard of. The soft conversation of the various people around him. He knew he was indoors, and that there were a lot of people around. He’d never been to a hospital before though, so it wasn’t his first guess.

Hazed white was next. He squinted his eyes open a crack, only to be met by a bright light that seemed to be aimed right in his face. One of his eyes closed in retaliation to the burning sensation, but slowly He was able to inch them open further, and shapes began to come into focus. The other eye opened up again as he began to scan his surroundings. He was in a bed in a white room. There was a window, but from the view that he could make out, with was pretty high up off the ground, and he wasn’t very anxious to get too close to heights again any time soon. That’s when he remembered the fall.

His eyes darted to his arm, which he was startled to see had been covered in plaster. He assumed that that meant the bone had been broken after all. That cast wouldn’t last long though. He was actually impressed that the arm was holding up as well as it was, considering he’d been out of it for a bit. He looked around to the rest of his body, which was not looking very pleasant. A blanket had been put over most of him, presumably to cover up what would probably be a relatively unpleasant sight. If he Lost control of his powers, often his flesh would just sort of let gravity take charge, stretching out and down, looking like he was melting, exposing the bones underneath much more clearly, that was certainly the case at the moment, but the large meal he’d had not long before this all transpired must have left enough meat on his bones to keep him loosing his shape too much. He wasn’t eager to see what his face looked like though, and exposed skull certainly couldn’t be pleasant to look at. He slowly began to bring all of the flesh back to areas that it belonged. Looking at the blanket over his lower half, it almost looked as if he was being inflated.

Thump. A large book collapsed onto the table beside his bed. Somehow he’d managed to be completely oblivious to the fact that his room was being occupied by another person, who he was (pleasantly) surprised to see was the winged girl from the alley. He’d figured out that a hospital was the only possible answer for where he was, or possibly the mansion, as she had mentioned earlier, and now he could assume how it was he ended up in the bed. She was on the phone now, talking with someone, but he wasn’t really paying attention, he was trying to remember her name. Then finally, it came to him. “…Gina,” he managed to mumble out under his breath, barely audible, but still there.

The voice on the other end of the line was not a familiar one, which caused Gina to deflate slightly. She needed a familiar voice at the moment, to help ground herself, but there wasn't one. The patient person on the other line announced that she had, indeed, reached Xavier's Sister School, and asked as to how he could be of assistance ot her. Gina told the unfamiliar man who she was, a very brief version of her situation, and requested the DocProf, if he was available. The man said that, yes, the Doctor was indeed available, and transferred her to him. There was a few short rings, and then he picked up.

"Hello, this is the DocProf," a kind, grandfatherly voice greeted from the other end of the line, "To whom am I speaking?"

"DocProf? This is Gina," Gina said uncertainly, biting her lip, "I don't know if you know me, but I'm one of the kids at Xavier's. I don't really know how else to say this, but have a huge favor to ask of you, if that's alright?"

"Go on, Gina," the DocProf said with a soft chuckle. Gina decompressed a little, smiling faintly. She gave him a run-down of the situation, of how the clay-man had fallen off of a roof and messed up his arm, and was currently laying unconscious in the hospital where she was at. She explained that the doctors had done a lot to mend him, but were having difficulties, because he kept on melting, and had put braces on his midsection and arm to prevent him from oozing, but couldn't figure out how to properly mend him. Gina concluded by asking if he would be willing to make an off-campus call, to help Gina's friend out.

"Of course, my dear," the DocProf agreed. Already, Gina could hear him rustling about, "At which hospital are you and the clay-man at?" Gina told him the name of the hospital, and the area of New York City, as well as the room that they were in, and thanked him graciously for going out of his way like this. The DocProf simply stated that it was no problem, that he was on his way, and told Gina that she'd been very kind to take care of a practical stranger. They said their farewells, and Gina hung up the phone once again, setting the phonebook down on the table. She gave a shuddering sigh, sinking back onto the bed. Though she was all about aiding others, simply for the sake of doing so, she found it difficult to ask for help like that-- asking the DocProf for assistance had been much easier than she had made it out to be.

Gina reclined and let her eyes slide shut, but she refused to panic outwardly. She'd been doing well thus far, the last thing she needed was to start crying. She casually folded one leg over the other and curled her tail up towards her hands, so that she could fidget with it absently-- Gina would die of boredom before she'd give into anxiousness.

>> "…Gina."

That was when she heard it, the faintest murmur of noise that sounded vaguely similar to her name. She glanced towards the phone, thinking for a moment that she hadn't hung it up all the way. No, the phone was well in its place, and she looked past it only to see that the clay man was awake, and staring at her.

"Hey, Gumby, you're awake," Gina breathed with an uncontained sigh of relief, and a faint smile, "How are you feeling?"

She paused, long enough for him to answer, before continuing on.

"You gave me quite the scare on the way over-- you went into shock and passed out in the taxi cab--" she recapped, sitting up, "--You had the cabby and I quite worried, and we didn't know what sort of state you'd be in if we went all the way to the Mansion-- I mean, I know you said no hopitals, but--" Gina broke off, her relieved expression taking on an apologetic note to it. But, I was scared, she wanted to say, "--but the DocProf is on his way, and he's going to fix you right up."

Gina got up, stretching. Now that he was awake, he'd probably want out of that God-awful backbrace that they'd wrapped him up in, to prevent him from oozing all over the place. After all, if he was awake now, he wouldn't need it. After she had stretched, Gina folded her arms, attempting to rub the chill out of them with her hands. Why did hospitals always have to be so cold?

He hadn’t really intended to say her name out loud. He still wasn’t completely sure where he was, so he wasn’t anxious to draw attention to the fact that he was awake. There wasn’t any point in pretending any longer. The truth of the matter is that aside from that fact that his arm seemed to be clamped in rather tightly, he was feeling pretty good at the moment. His mouth had been rather small when he’d muttered the name a moment ago, but it appeared as though conversation was in the air, so he might as well get ready for it. The corners of his lips slowly opened up his head as if invisible hooks had popped in on each side and started pulling. His mouth, previously little under an inch wide spread open to a relatively large mouth. He kept it toothless though, no need to act standoffish. As far as he could tell, this girl had done nothing to harm him.

As good as he was feeling though, he was still harnessed into some sort of restraint, and his arm was probably not in the best shape to be getting up. He was intrigued by who this doctor that she was calling in from the mansion could be. Why was he more useful then the people who had plastered his arm up? To him, laying low and enjoying a bed (a luxury he hadn’t experienced since childhood) seemed like an ideal situation for the time being.

>> "How are you feeling?"

He really wasn’t a huge fan of conversation, but he figured it was something he was going to need to adapt too, both physically and emotionally; his mouth really wasn’t consistent enough to get any kind of practice in. “I’m doing better,” He responded, the quality of his voice improved from the mutter earlier, but only marginally. “At least I assume so, I don’t really remember much of it.” Humor was something he was never very confident in, but lightening moods was always something worth aiming for; His conversations were rarely uplifting on their own. He didn’t really see any point in beating around the bush with the topic though. “So… who is this… DocProf?” He asked. If he had something to offer, he’d wait. If he didn’t, or the whole situation started to seem suspicious, he was going to start finding a way out as soon as possible.

>> "I'm doing better--" the clay man answered genuinely, as if speculating how he truly felt, "--At least I assume so, I don't really remember much of it."

Whether he had meant to be funny or not, Gina chuckled warmly, and agreed, with a, "That's good to hear," and, "No, I don't think you would remember, would you? You were kind of out of it." Sort of. You know, looking around blearily, passing out, melting all over a New York taxi cab. Gina saw that the clay-man was attempting to move, yet hindered by the back brace encompassing his chest-area.

"Here," Gina said, moving to the bedside and dropping the covers shamelessly, exposing the hard plastic back brace for the clay-man to see, "The doctors panicked a little when you started losing form, so they put you in a back brace." She clasped the Velcro that held the brace in its place, and peeled it back, one strip at a time, until the brace was completely unhinged. She lifted up the top half, freeing her friend, and set it aside. He would have to take care of the brace on the back.

"Won't be needing that any more," Gina said simply, more to herself than to him. If he was awake now, she doubted that he would pass out again soon.

>> "So... who is this... DocProf?"

"Oh, the DocProf?" Gina echoed, sinking back onto the neighboring bed, "He's the school medic at Xavier's, and a teacher, hence the name-- he's got some healing powers under his belt, so I figured--" Gina paused, steepling her fingers as she took a moment to relish her good idea, "--He could fix you up, and you wouldn't have to bother with a cast."

So, a healer. Shane couldn’t really hide his relief to hear that news. He could tell from the itchiness of his cast that it would never last. He never left his arms in one place for long, or rather, in one shape, and being restricted to what his powers could do and how much he was able to swing that arm around simply wouldn’t do. This healing mutant had better get there soon, he doubted it would take long before his anxiousness turned into impatience.

The winged girl started unhooking the restraints that were holding him to the bed. She explained that they were there for the purpose of keeping him in a human shape while the doctors had done their jobs. He gave the girl a bit of an apologetic look; watching someone more or less melting couldn’t be an easy thing to witness. At least he was back in form now, though, and aside from this cast, feeling like he could take on the whole world. The velcro ripped at an unpleasantly loud volume again, and again, and again. It was a small price to pay for some freedom from the restraints, but a nuisance nonetheless. Shane’s mouth slowly started to shrink again, forming a clear frown of discomfort. His head was pounding now. He wasn’t sure if had been prior to the Velcro or not, but it certainly was now. Fortunately he was free again. As Gina pulled the last strap off of him, he raised a tired hand to his forehead and rubbed it in the centre.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember the events of the day as best he could. He’d always had a pretty bad memory, and under the circumstances, he didn’t really expect this memory to shine through very well at all, but there he went, going through the events of the day from the fall onwards. The details were foggy, but he had the gist of it until the cab had show up. The last thing he really remembered was hearing Gina’s name. Then it hit him that he’d probably never actually returned the favor. He wasn’t usually in the mood to share anything about himself, but it seemed like such a minor thing to put out there in return for the help this girl was continuing to give.

“Shane.” He said. Still faintly, but far less broken and coarse then earlier. Gina, who had returned to sitting down across from him next to the bedside table, turned to look at him with a measure of confusion. She obviously had no idea what he was talking about, if she had even caught the name. His frown corrected itself back into a more welcoming expression, and he looked right at her. ‘My name.” he moved his hand from his forehead and pointed to his chest. “My name is Shane.”

She noticed as the man frowned, watching her unbind him, but Gina did not acknowledge this. He then rubbed his head uncomfortably, a silent spell falling upon the hospital room as he slipped into his own thoughts, and she into hers-- or, lack thereof. Gina more just spaced-out, staring at the tiles on the cieling, or glancing towards the hall as nurses rushed by on other, more important errands. This guy wasn't much of a talker, and Gina was (for once) uncertain of what to talk about, and so an uncomfortable silence fell.

The clay-man then murmured something, which Gina did not catch, and she looked up slowly, furrowing her brow. She'd taken to toying with the phone book, aimlessly fanning the pages and listening to the sound it made. She ceased her fidgetting, and turned her attention to him. He frowned disapprovingly, and then tried again, adopting a kinder expression.

"My name-- my name is Shane," he announced, gesturing to himself with functional hand. The recollection dawned on Gina, that she'd introduced herself, and that he had not-- that was shortly prior to when Shane had started going into shock.

"Nice name," Gina commented, smiling, "Nice to finally, officially, make your acquaintance, Shane. Nice to not have to call you Gumby, Gina added on mentally, smiling faintly at the thought. The silence was becoming too much for the talkative girl to bear. She had to think of something to discuss, something to say to Shane to break the opressive wall of quiet that had fallen.

"You know," Gina began hesitantly, trailing off a bit before continuing, "I'm really sorry about not making it to Xavier's-" though it was understandable as per why, she thought it was the sentiment that counted, "-But, if you're in need of a room, they have extras there. Doc will probably want to make sure he mended you up right... Or you should at least come along so that I can fix the mess that I made out of your jacket." Gina gestured at the sleeve which she'd popped open with her claw. She'd only torn the seam, so it would be a quick fix-it, but she hadn't any sewing supplies with her.

The girl began to apologize for their current location. As genuine as she seemed, it still felt like a way to fill the silence that had consumed the small room they were in. Shane didn’t really mind the silence; it’s what he’d grown used to. Expecting there to be sound will eventually make you loose your mind if you find yourself in a situation where conversation simply isn’t an option. He never wanted to turn into the kind of person who spoke to himself when no one was around, so instead he taught himself to embrace the quiet. It was almost meditation, but not quite; there was never any form of enlightenment as a result of it. Staying calm and at peace was a pretty important part of his life. If he didn’t do that, he’d burn through his flesh much quicker.

Of course, the noise of this city made relaxing almost impossible any more. His stress levels reached new levels every day, and despite the relatively short amount of time he’d spent there, he could say with conviction that he’d never felt unhealthier in his entire life. Today, of course, was the cherry on top. Nothing could make you feel worse when you’re already sick then breaking an arm. Despite his day dreaming though, he did manage to shift his focus to Gina as she continued to discuss the mansion.

The prospect of staying at the mansion didn’t sound that great. He’d lost track of his own age, but he was positive he was old enough that fitting into a school wouldn’t be ideal, and rather awkward at best. He didn’t really know how well he’d be able to handle children, either. Running around, making noise. Perhaps no worse then the streets, but at least the streets tend to ignore you. Children, on the other hand, aim right for you with their racket.

“We’ll see.” Shane replied to the potential offer. There wasn’t much believability to the answer though; his face had “not likely” written all over it. He was interested in seeing the place though, and in learning some more about it. Stretching his arm out long enough that it started to look like a snake with a hand for a head, he grabbed for his jacket from across the room on the chair it had been residing on after the girl had motioned towards. He reeled the jacket back in and plopped it n his lap, grabbing the sleeve to examine it.

“Well, that’s definitely not ideal.” He said, returning back to the more friendly tone he’d used earlier in the conversation. He held up the sleeve to show the girl, despite the fact that he knew she already knew what it looked like. It wasn’t bad at all, really. Just one long tear down the sleeve. He let another smile onto his face, his mouth unintentionally widening a little bit. “But at least it matches.” He laughed, pointing to another hole running down the back of the jacket, nearly the same size. The jacket had seen better days, but Shane had never witnessed any of them. The only reason he even kept it around was the fact that the collar was nice and tall, ideal for covering his face if he needed to. He smiled again at the girl, hoping to himself that that had lightened the mood enough.

>> "We'll see," Shane said in a flat, unconvincing tone. Gina frowned and shrugged-- she didn't blame him. The school was largely occupied by teenagers, though there were some twenty-something's, and there were rooms that were open to any mutant in-need. Or, at least, Gina assumed so-- that'd kind of suck if they only permitted mutants under a certain age. She didn't argue the matter. Shane stretched his good arm and wove it towards the jacket, lifting it up off of the chair and slowly maneuvering it back towards himself. He surveyed the sleeve, a smile touching his face.

>> “Well, that’s definitely not ideal-- but at least it matches," he commented, flashing the sleeve at Gina and laughing to himself. He then showed her another hole running down the jacket's back. Gina smiled along with him-- she hadn't noticed the other hole, but it still didn't make her feel any better about the new addition that she had caused. The only thought that crossed Gina's mind was that she could mend the other hole, too. That was how she was, though, always trying to help. She was about to make a comment about maybe getting a new coat, but realized that if he was a "street person", that might be an absurd suggestion.

"I could mend that hole, too," Gina finally vocalized, a note of certainty touching the warmth of her tone. She smiled in unabashed determination. It wasn't so much that she was saying she "could" fix the coat, it was that, one way or another, she was going to fix the coat. As if to support her case, she added on, "I mean, I modify my own clothes, so patching up a couple tears here and there would be a breeze." And I wouldn't even charge you.

He was pleased to see the girl looking a little less uncomfortable. He’d never really expected his jacket to turn into such a conversation piece, but he was pretty relieved that it did; he didn’t really have much else to offer the conversation. “I might just take you up on that,” he smiled at the girl. Conversations really hadn’t been that important to him, but he was enjoying himself, savoring the few words that managed to fill in the quiet of the room.

The tone quickly shifted as a nurse walked into the room, her face buried in a chart. As she entered, her gaze slowly left the pages in front of her and she locked eyes on Shane, freezing quickly. Her eyes darted over to Gina, the look on her face hardly improving. She rebounded rather quickly though, regaining her composure almost as fast as she had lost it. She made one last look at the chart before hesitantly making eye contact with her patient. Shane rolled his eyes ever so slightly.

“So, awake are we?” she asked. Shane made a kind of grunting noise in response. He’d actually forgotten that he and Gina were the odd ones out, since he’d woke up, he hadn’t really seen any other regular old humans at all (not that it had been that long). He liked it, being normal for just a moment. But all it took was one woman to storm in to ruin his fantasy. The nurse managed a little bit of an eye roll herself in response, removing a pen from her pocket, clicking out the tip. “So, you wouldn’t happen to have a name, would ‘cha?” She asked, seemingly trying to be cute.

“You can call me Shade.” He responded, his answer followed by a smirk towards Gina. The nurse was unimpressed. She scribbled something down on the chart before proceeding to the small table in the back of the room. From her pocket she pulled a small bottle of tablets. She spun around on the heel of just one foot, and on display between her fingers she held up a single, dark pill.

“Well Mr… Shade, it’s time for your pain medicine.” Her stare switched to Gina immediately after a brief glance at her watch. “Also, I’m afraid visiting hours are over for the day.” She began walking towards the bed, moving in between the two of them. She dropped the pill into Shane’s hand before turning to begin shooing Gina out the door. Shane’s head tilted to the side slightly as he tried to comprehend how quickly this woman had changed the entire atmosphere so quickly and effortlessly. As Gina’s disappeared from sight, Shane lifted up the pill to look at it. The nurse stood in the doorway tapping her foot impatiently. What harm could one painkiller do? He swallowed the pill, and by the time the sound of the gulp had ended, the nurse was gone and his door was closed. Shane closed his eyes again, figuring there was nothing better to do then sleep.

>> "I might just take you up on that," Shade agreed. Gina surpressed the urge to pump her arm and exclaim, "Yes!", but instead just grinned at the headway she'd made. She wasn't going to be swayed, so the fact that Shane had agreed just made the matter not an argument. Gina was about to reply, when a nurse came bustling in. Gina reclined, looking towards the noise. She glanced up from a clipboards, freezing like a deer in the headlights when she spied Shane, seeming shocked.

She looked to Gina, hoping for a more human face and recieving little consolation, before glancing back towards her patient. Unfortunately, she was the minority. Gina smirked. You'd think a nurse would be a little less uneasy about mutants. They couldn't have been the first mutants she'd ever interacted with, and they were really well-behaved. Gina listened, leaning back on the spare bed, as the woman shifted her attention to the patient in question.

Just like that, Shane shut up. The nurse hurled questions at him, and got very little from him. She didn't even get a name, for he gave her the pseudonym of "Shade". Gina remained tight-lipped as the nurse passed Shade some pain medicine, but suddenly came alive when the nurse turned her attention to Gina, stating that visiting hours.

"What?! No-!" Gina began protesting, as the woman closed in on her, "That's my friend right there! I have to take care of him--!" Well, not quite friends-- essentially strangers, but Gina had a habit of taking likings to people she'd taken under her wing... figuratively, that is. And, it made a better argument to say "friend" anyways. But the nurse was not buying it.The woman was closing in her, shooing her towards the door. Gina grabbed her bag, unwilling to abandon it in the room. Rather than argue with her, she changed tactics as the woman managed to corral her into the hallway-- Gina instead opted to plead with her, "Please, I have a doctor coming to fix his arm, a mutant doctor, won't you let me stay with him? I have to stick around anyways... please?"

The woman was unyielding, repeated that visiting hours were through with, and that Gina needed to leave. The woman than disappeared within the room once again, foiling Gina's plan to sneak back in once she was gone, and so Gina did as she was told, but looked none-too-pleased doing it, making sure to cross her arms and puff her cheeks out in discontentment as she left.

-----//time skip//-----

And thus, Gina found herself, standing out in the sweltering heat awaiting the DocProf in front of the hospital. It felt weird sitting inside, so she stood out front, where she'd be able to see him coming-- she hoped that she would recognize him, for they'd only seen each other in passing. And older man approached, and he seemed mildly familiar to Gina. But, before she could make the inquiry, he beat her to the punch--

"Ah, Gina? What are you doing outside?" he greeted her, "I expected that you'd be in there waiting with that man that you found--"

"--Shane," Gina informed him, smiling, "Yeah, they kicked me out of the room, said that visiting hours were over-- good to see you, DocProf."

"Good to see you, too," he agreed, chuckling warmly as the two of them ventured inside. With a note of grandfatherly mischief, he practically sang, "I suppose they'll have to make an exception for us, now won't they?"

Gina could help but laugh along, for going against the instructions of an older person was even more fun when accompanied by a person even older than the person that had kicked you out. The two of them marched to the elevator, sharing light conversation, and they went up to the floor at which Shane was being kept together. As they neared the room, Gina jogged ahead, poking her head in through the doorway hesitantly. No nurse-lady-- good. And, Shane was still there-- even better.

"He's in here," Gina said to the DocProf, before turning her attention inward and announcing herself, "Shane, wake up, buddy-- the DocProf's here!" Did he hear her, or had the pain meds knocked him flat on his butt, "Earth to Shane," Gina said, as she drew nearer, a smile in her tone, "I brought someone along that you probably want to see." The DocProf filed in behind her, keeping a comfortable distance until the time when Shane would awake and take notice of him. Darn, those meds knocked him flat on his butt, Gina thought with a smile, nudging his arm gently.

Shane woke up rather uncomfortably, to say the least. Although Gina hadn’t hit his arm very hard, she still managed to bump a nerve, or something to that effect. He popped right up from his slumber, wincing and grabbing for his arm. The sudden jolt of jumping up only managed to make the pain a little worse though, and his wince managed to turn into a bit of a growl. After a moment to calm down, he finally opened his eyes to see Gina, who had jumped back a few feet as a reflex. She had the same slightly apologetic look on her face that she seemed to have every time he saw her, but she still managed a smile, which was reassuring.

His gaze shifted to the older man behind her though. He was quite trying to hide himself, but he was definitely wasn’t very anxious to make himself known. There wasn’t anything off putting about the man though. Despite his lurking, he didn’t do a single thing to upset him. If anything, He found himself wanting to know who this man was. He just seemed to have an aura of positive energy surrounding him. Then he started to put the pieces together again.

“So, I’m guessing that would make you the doctor?” Shane wheezed out, still nursing his wound. He puffed himself up again, realizing that he’d started to “deflate” a bit during his nap, though not anywhere near as much as he had been earlier, the last time he woke up. Removing his hand from his other arm, he extended it out the length of the room, opening it up for a handshake. The man was clearly caught of guard, but never really seemed to break his cheerful and peaceful appearance. It was clear to Shane that he was either going to really like this man, or despise him.

Shane jolted awake, and at the reflex, he growled. Yeah, that had probably made his arm twinge—Gina probably deserved that—and yet she still recoiled. The suddenness of the noise had startled her, but her look quickly drifted into a more placating, apologetic one. She cracked a smile, backed off, and let Shane take a moment to collect himself. The DocProf rocked back and forth, toe-to-heel, pausing only when the Shane took notice of him. He smiled his signature, wizened smile.

“Good afternoon,” the DocProf greeted, nodding his head towards Shane. The DocProf was nothing spectacular to behold—he wore one of those coats with the patches on the elbows that you’d think a professor would wear, slacks, loafers, and a button-up shirt. With him, he carried a leather messenger bag. Nothing spectacular, and yet he bore an air of aged dignity, and grandfatherly humor.

>> ”So I guess that would make you the doctor?”

“Indeed,” the DocProf confirmed with another warm smile and a bob of his grey-haired head. Now that he had been acknowledged, he made his approach towards the bed with an introduction of, “Yes, I am the Doctor for Xavier’s Institute—the students and faculty call me the DocProf.”

Ever the cordial man, the DocProf was already moving to extend his hand as he approached the bed. Yet, Shane beat him to the punch as he stretched his good arm out for a shake. Gina chuckled at the gesture, flopping onto the spare bed once more. Though the DocProf seemed momentarily taken aback by the show of power, he quickly and smoothly regained composure—of course the lad had elastic arms! Why else would Gina have referred to him as the “clay-man”?

“Pleasure to meet you, Mister--?” the DocProf continued politely, taking Shane’s extended hand in both of his own. Gina arched an eyebrow—didn’t she just tell him Shane’s name? His memory had to be failing him—but just as Gina was about to speak up, she realized that DocProf was doing this to be polite. As a man who went by the DocProf rather than his true name, he was also giving Shane that opportunity. So, ultimately, Gina let Doc do the talking and she kept her mouth shut.

His presence did wonders for her stress. Now that an adult was here to take care of matters, Gina no longer had to be so frantic about handling business on her own. She slouched back on the spare bed, propping herself up on her arms, and watched the interaction unfold. She was kind of excited, both to see Shane fixed up, and to be able to see the DocProf at work.

The doctor accepted the handshake enthusiastically. Shane was certainly leaning more towards the “get along” end of the spectrum of his imaginary relationship scale, at least so far. So when the doctor asked Shane for his name, he decided it best to go with his actual one, rather then the alias. Besides, Gina already knew his name, it would look bad if she’d already told him one thing and he told him another.

“Shane,” he responded confidently. He was eager to get this done. It hadn’t really been that long since he’d been injured, but any amount of time is too much when you know that the instant cure is on its way. He felt like he’d waited long enough. Unfortunately though, pleasantries were worth exchanging for the sake of making everyone comfortable with each other. “So, what do I call you then?” Shane asked the old man, still keeping that gentle smile on

“You can call me the DocProf,” he responded with an element of pride to his tone, as if he truly loved to hear that nickname out loud. He smiled yet again, and then began moving towards the side of the bed to get a closer look at his arm. Shane was perhaps a little too eager to have the problem fixed, and excitement led to the poor decision of grabbing for his cast and attempting to remove it. Seconds after he made one rip into the side of the plaster, pain was radiating through his entire body. The doctor had a mildly horrified look on his face as ran the last few steps to the bedside to stop him from pursuing that plan any further.

“Why don’t we wait until you’re patched up before we take that off, okay?” He asked, slightly patronizing, but in a way that he probably deserved. That was pretty stupid, after all. The doctor placed his hand on Shane’s head to ease him back onto the bed and relax, placing his other hand on the arm, just above the cast. He closed his eyes, suddenly becoming very straight faced. A faint yellow glow began to emit from his one hand, creating a warm feeling, not just on the surface of Shane’s arm, but a kind of soothing warmth that quickly spread throughout his entire body.

The DocProf’s face twitched on occasion as he relived the ordeal from Shane’s perspective, zeroing in or specific physical details. He was able to see the bone in his arm snap, and was uncomfortable to discover that the broke bone had indeed pieced the skin, causing the blood loss and an equal portion of the pain he’d experienced. As he arrived at the point of injury in the memory, the glow from his hand began to intensify, increasing the temperature in the room ever so slightly and spreading that same warm feeling into all three of the occupants. That warmth seemed to work as some kind of pain killer in his arm, but it really didn’t offer enough relief as Shane felt his bones being forced together again, rebuilding the structure that was damaged throughout the whole ordeal. He groaned a fair bit, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t tolerate. Compared to the pain he experienced just from touching it, this was almost relaxing.

Then the warmth began to cool down again as the doctor opened his eyes, returning the same smile to his face that had been there the entire time. “That should do it,” he said, motioning towards the cast. “Now we can get that off.” Shane eagerly began tearing at the plaster, while the doctor stole a slightly worried glance towards Gina. He had seen far enough before the injury to know that Shane had been spying on and following her prior to his topple, but he didn’t know any more of the context. He was able to hide his concerns behind that powerful smile of his, but as he watched the two of them struggle with the cast, he couldn’t help but wonder who this “clay man” really was.

>> "Shane-- so, what do I call you then?"

Gina cracked a smile-- it was good to see the guys getting along. It was obvious that, though the DocProf appreciated the formality, he understood that the sooner the problem was fixed, the better. Gina trailed after the DocProf with her gaze as he moved to Shane's bedside, and Shane made the mistake of trying to take the brace off. He winced at the pain-- okay, so maybe those killer pain-meds that had knocked him on his butt weren't that good-- and he quickly gave in. That'd been pretty stupid, and was a matter for which the DocProf chastised him. Gina's heart had admittedly stuttered at the foolish move, but she reminded herself that the Doc had it under control.

Gina settled back into the role of the passive yet amazed spectator as the DocProf laid Shane back, and extended his hands, placing them in the proximity of the wound-- now the magic was about to happen. A glow grew around his hands, faint at first-- Gina blinked her eyes, which had undoubtedly widened a fraction when she realized that there was a glow growing around the DocProfs' hands. She tried not to gape but, let's face it-- it was pretty cool. She let her glance waver between Shane and the DocProf. Shane seemed ambivalent, but the DocProf--? His face twitched occasionally, the warmth flowered out into the room briefly. Gina shifted, as if being touched by this magic had some sort of effect on her, too. Shane began to express some discomfort, but such a thing was a small token for the gift that he was recieving. DocProf didn't seem like the type to charge patients, much like said hospital which would try nickel-and-diming them for the visit.

The room cooled, and the DocProf was still smiling, though his expression brightened a bit as he finished.

"That should do it-- now we can get that off."

Gina rocked back and forth, planting her hands on the bed and rocking the entirety of her weight back-and-forth.

"Okay, I have to say, that was pretty dang cool," Gina commented, grinning. Shane was already working at the plaster, but his eagerness was to be expected. She looked towards the DocProf, and was met by an expression he hadn't expression. He looked mildly concerned... not to be expected from a guy who'd just healed a man. Gina arched an eyebrow. What? She ignored it, for he smiled reassuringly, so Gina went to help with the cast's removal, utilizing her claws to help speed the process up.

"DocProf?" Gina inquired hesitantly, glancing up to make sure she had his attention, "Could I possibly, y'know, bum a ride from you?" She didn't explain her reasons as to why-- she didn't want to fly home, she'd burnt a hole in her wallet by catching a taxi, and hated the bus. She didn't need to tell him that, hoping that the shear fact that the DocProf was a nice man would be enough.

"But, of course," the DocProf agreed, smiling.

"And Shane?" Gina inquired, much more assuredly. She looked towards Shane, to see if he'd want a ride anywhere, and towards the DocProf, to see if he would approve. She didn't understand why he wouldn't help him out, or even try and take him to a Mansion, just to keep tabs on how he was doing.

Gina’s claws tore through the plaster like it was nothing. Dust floated in the air and sprinkled all over the bed and floor like a lame dandruff snowstorm. A deep breath and a hard blow launched everything back up into the air again and out of the way, landing closer to the back corner of the room. Shane lifted his now healed arm up, twisting it around, simply enjoying the fact that he could move it without wincing at all. His arm bubbled and twisted as he tested out his abilities. The cast had made his arm much more difficult to work with before, bottlenecking the flesh he could send to that arm. It felt good to play around with the ability again.

“I gotta say, doc, you know what you’re doing.” Shane said while examining where his wound once was. He finished the though with an unnaturally large smile towards the old man. He wasn’t anywhere near as chipper as he once was, but he kept the smile on as he nodded in response. “Thanks.” Shane hadn’t thanked anyone for a long time, but today seemed to be the day he’d be making up for it.

Gina had started asking the doctor for a ride, and was surprised to hear that she had asked for one for him as well. He started to get up out of the bed, not seeing a point it laying down a moment longer. As his legs swung over the side of the sheets, he opened his mouth to begin to tell them it wasn’t necessary when the doctor cut him off. “Nonsense,” he interrupted, “You’re coming with us. We need to make sure that the healing has been completely successful. Can’t have bones set incorrectly, can you?” He took on the sternest tone Shane had heard come from his mouth since he arrived. He seemed serious enough, though, and there wasn’t anything better for him to do then go along. It’s not like he had any interest in poorly set bones.

Shane grabbed his coat and tossed it on to cover himself up. He’d forgotten he was naked until he’d pulled the sheets off, and for the girl’s sake, figured he should put something on. As the jacket went on, he remembered the hole in the sleeve. He turned his shoulder towards Gina and smirked. “I believe you still owe me a stitch.”