Allison was apparently the type to find humor in morons getting what they deserved, laughing them out the door enthusiastically. "Yeah, my shadow's pretty versatile."

Stephen had assumed Allison was oblivious to most social cues, so he was expecting her to skim over his comment without noticing what he was implying. He chuckled, matching her wide grin. "Well, I figured it'd get them outta the door faster if they knew there was a south'n gentleman keepin' an eye on you. Whatever gets the job done, right?" he added with a wink.

Allison grinned, raising her hand to cover her mouth and barely managed not to giggle. “Well, I’m not sure it’s the gentleman part that scared them off so much as the environment attacking them bit. But yeah, whatever works. Pretty effective philosophy.”

She twisted the glass, watching the liquid in it swirl a little before drinking more. “So, Southern Gentleman, what’re you doing here? Can’t be business or you’d be at a dinner meeting right now.”

Stephen tried to take a sip of his drink before finding only ice in the glass. "Could I have one a Disarono and cranberry?" he asked the bartender who was close by. "Want anything else, Allison?"

What was my story here again? Oh, right! "I'm pretty darn far from a businessman. I just wanted a change of scenery, and paintin doesn't tie me down, so I just took off to New York. It was kinda on a whim, now that I think about it," he confessed, chuckling. "I'm guessing you're a student, but have you been in New York your whole life?"

Allison shook her head at the offer. “Nah, thanks though. Still have to walk a decent way back home, and I’d rather not be tripping over everything more than I normally am. Doesn’t invite the best attention, doing that.”

And shook her head again. “I’ve been here the last two years, basically, but I grew up in Chicago. Some ways completely different and some ways exactly the same, it’s a bit weird to think about sometimes.” She paused just long enough for the change of topic to not seem like it was in the same sentence, then continued. “What do you paint? I’ve always enjoyed art, but never really been good enough to do much with it.”

She was certainly a responsible college girl, so as his last drink came, he handed the bartender enough to pay the tab along with a more than fair tip.

Stephen was a fan of Chicago, but figured it best that he did not seem like a man who travels the world on a whim. "I work with mostly oil paintings; some other stuff too, when I'm in the mood. It gets me by."

Halfway through his last drink, their quiet night seemed to be winding down. "Would you like company for your walk home? I'd be remiss if those frat boys were waiting for you along the way and I wasn't around to shadow them into a wall."

“Oh, oils were always the hardest. Half my teachers didn’t even bother mentioning them, and the ones that did didn’t teach it.” Allison stretched, then finished the rest of her drink. “I might’ve made one or two attempts at oil, but certainly not many. Acrylics I could at least get to work sometimes. Do you do landscapes, portraits...?”

Allison laughed again. “Well, not too remiss, so long as I can stay on my feet I can outrun nearly anyone without a mutation. Thanks for the offer, though, I’d like that.”

Stephen smiled; the girl was curious and at the very least not ignorant of art. "I do mostly landscapes and recreations." Forgeries. "I would do portraits, but I can be sort of a recluse, so I don't have much in terms of a pool of models to work with. Anyway, if you decide you want actual lessons in oil painting, feel free to let me know. The schedule of an artist isn't exactly hectic," he joked, placing his finished drink on the bar.

With his offer accepted, Stephen got to his feet, gesturing to the door. "Well then, care to get on those feet and lead the way?"

Allison laughed. “With as many colleges as are around here, I doubt you’d have any trouble finding models if you wanted to.” She grinned. “Thanks, I might take you up on that sometime. Not sure it’d be any use, with my abilities, but it’d at least be fun for a while.”

Allison blinked, suppressed a grin, and shook her head. She slipped off the stool, into a handstand, and began walking toward the door on her hands. “I shall lead the way this way.” She managed three “steps” before falling on the fourth, and blinked up at Nate from her suddenly, newly acquired position. “...It might work better if I hadn’t been kicked out of gymnastics for being unable to do a handstand.”

"I'll have to look into that, though I would have to figure out a way to search for models without making it seem like I'm trying to pick up girls seven years younger than me," he joked. In truth, he was not concerned with a lack of models; his art was a means of amusement, not profit, so he could paint whatever he wanted.

Stephen covered his mouth, trying to be polite and hide his laughter at Allison's misstep. He offered his hand to help her up. "Nice to see it didn't make you give them up, but it's probably a long walk home, so why don't you get back up on those feet and we can stroll on outta here." He winked; the girls was awkward, but in an adorably awkward way.

Allison grinned as she accepted the hand up. “I refuse to lose any more fun in my life because it happens to be accompanied by failure.” She stretched to get rid of the dull ache falling had gifted her with, then headed toward the door, weaving between chairs and tables with much more skill than anyone who’d seen her earlier singing and recent fall would be likely to expect. Unless they knew her, anyway.

She waited until they were outside before casting around for another topic. “Any reason you picked New York to visit? It’s hardly the only city with a lot of art around.”

It was actually a very good question. All of Stephen's planning and calculating began when he entered work-mode. When it came to picking a destination to move to, the one criteria was that it housed some options to target when he was ready to reenter work-mode. Other than criteria one, he just picked a city he was in the mood for. There was really no reason for him to pick New York other than "I was in the mood for New York. It was not even about the art, really. It's just... I guess sometimes a choice makes sense. New York made sense."

Stephen had no clue where exactly they were going, but the streets they were walking were streets he had already wandered earlier in the day, so he felt comfortable enough, even by the light of the streetlamps. "So I'm getting the impression that your interest in art is more recreational than scholastic; what do you study at that college of yours exactly?"

“Good a reason as any. Sometimes our moods know more than we do.” Even without some kind of mutation, the subconscious was amazingly skilled at planning and figuring things out. And making Allison dread things for no reason that was apparently until much later.

Allison nodded. “Wish I could do art, but I’m not good enough, and don’t have the patience for any kind of history. I’m in psychology, haven’t picked a specialization in it yet.” She grinned and gave Nate a sideways look out of the corner of her eye. “I have been looking at art therapy a bit.”

"A psychologist, eh?" Stephen shared a complex relationship with psychologists; he respected their methods, but was wary of them as people since his methods were based on psychology, making psychologists the one group that could pick up on his tricks. "Well, if you ever need someone to experiment with your art therapy, I'd probably make a good patient. I'd love to see what you analyze about me."

The further they went along, the more the path seemed familiar. "You know, my place is actually not too far from this area. Well, my place for now. I didn't exactly plan out much of a permanent living situation before showing up here. In hindsight, I should learn to plan better. So do you live with other mutants?"

Allison burst out laughing, and continued to laugh for a few minutes before she could answer. “Art therapy’s not about analyzing. It’s more like....” She gestured with her hands a bit, sketching shapes in the air as she tried to think of a description. “Like using self expression to figure out and work though your own thoughts and issues. It’s way easier for a kid to draw pictures that relate to death than to consciously sit down and think about how their father died in an accident, and they’re upset, and they blame their father for abandoning them, and still want him back, and the whole huge mess that goes with all that. As soon as a kid can hold a crayon or stick their finger in a jar of paint they can draw that, but they can’t talk about it, or even really think about it. Even most adults never really get to a point where they can just think through a mess like that, certainly not on their own.”

Allison shook her head. “No, I live by myself, no other humans or mutants. Couldn’t fit more than one person in my apartment anyway, even if one of them had some sort of shrinking mutation.” She grinned. “Probably not if they both did, even. I like privacy, though, so tiny apartment it is.”

Allison intentions regarding psychology were so pure and almost idealistic that it made Stephen feel almost sleazy for using his knack for the subject so selfishly. Still, the world needed all sorts of people, and he had a specific niche he knew how to fill. "You'll do a lot of good with plans like that, sugar-- and I'm gonna remind you that's just a term of endearment, not a hint that you're actually made of sugar."

Stephen remembered when he was still new to the con game, living in small apartments and even a few seedy areas. "I understand the need for privacy. Well, if you ever want to take me up to a painting lesson like we talked about, it is starting to seem like you don't live all that far from me. Feel free to drop by-- well, let me know you're coming and then drop by. I appreciate my privacy too." He did not need a guest dropping by unannounced walking in on any "business."