There was real snow on the ground now, a nice thick layer of real winter winter genuine snow snow. Not the one two punch October snow or the taunting November kind but the real get out of school stuff. That was if the snow could out race the snowplows, which didn't often happen. With only having to take one class at the mansion, Hokee didn't care to much on what time he showed up and if he really did what he should be doing. Yes he was working with cars, but he needed to find the right parts, but more importantly find the right car to work on. He couldn't do that so much in the morning, it was more of a late night deal.

While snow would discourage most people from going outside, Hokee didn't mind it to much. It was with the fluffy white stuff he could really practice some of the wider gap jumps and not have to worry as much about breaking anything. Snow just had a way of absorbing some of the shock, and it did it much better then cement or muddy grass. Snow didn't stop everything, there was always the risks of ice or other odd objects hiding underneath.

Exploring the inside of the mansion was turning into more of a chore then he had originally thought of, it just seemed like there was always a new hallway to check out and to many locked doors. Since the inside wasn't offering him much other then the feeling of constraint, it was to the grounds and trudging through the snow.

Boots would have been nice, or at least waterproof shoes, since this wasn't an option, he just had to dance his way about from one footstep to another. He could remember a pool from the view from the roof a while back, though he didn't remember if he saw water in it or not. It was worth a short of checking it out, a good patch of ice was always a nice gateway to bliss.

Climbing over the fence the traced out the pool area, Hokee could fee the rush of winter air slamming against the sides of his face. With no new steps to follow, it was off to himself to make his own path through the fresh snow. Edging his way forward, he soon could feel the difference in texture under his feet as his foot started to slide a bit. There was ice there. Perfect. All he needed to do now was clear off the ice and he could skate a bit, or more so slide a bit across on it. This was winter after all.

No amount of snow could keep an eight-year-old inside, particularly one from Syracuse.

"Are you nuts?" Big League demanded, watching as the young shapeshifter slid into a pair of boots (which were technically Big League's, but Chase wa borrowing them), "You're gonna freeze."

"I'll be fine," Chase huffed, fastening the boots around his feet. They were a little big, but it worked well enough.

Big League huffed, "I'm not coming with. I'll tell your Mom on you."

Chase smiled. It was still weird to call Miss Gemma that. But, a good weird. He liked it.

"I'm just going outside. I'll be right back, okay?"

Big League sighed in resignation and nodded. Chase darted out the side door before his friend could change his mind.

Once outside, Chase carefully picked his way over the icy steps, jumping the last few steps and landing in a drift of snow. He was in his element. For a while, Chase frolicked on his own, opting to hop like a rabbit rather than trudge through the snow.

He continued loping through the snow until he came across another set of tracks. The shapeshifter paused, surveyed them, and then followed. He wanted to see who the footprints belonged to.

Chase hopped along awkwardly, paying more attention to the footprints below than what lay ahead. He nearly ran into the fence before him, and came to an abrupt halt. What's this?

A long-haired person was shuffling around within the enclosure. Chase watched quietly, curiosity piqued. He curled his bony fingers around the cold, wrought iron fence, silent and watchful.

"What are you doing?"

With his sneakers sliding across the ice, he could almost taste the smell of stale popcorn in his mouth from countless trips to the hockey rink on the border of the reservation. He could sit out in front of the cigarette warehouse all night to watch the flashing lights of the rink. It was a newer establishment, one he wished was around when he was younger. The plastic play ground near the parking lot still had the crisp new look, so much so not even a tagger like him could dare make the first mark. It was amazing how the building basically was made from the profits of selling cigarettes, cancer may cost a person's life in the end, but at least from it kids like him could now go ice skating and play lacrosse.

He wasn't always big on the whole shoveling thing, but if he actually had one right now, it could be slightly useful. If he could clear off the ice a bit, then he could enjoy the sliding about on the ice more. Young, juvenile, it didn't matter, it was just fun. Swishing his one foot back and forth, his attempts of clearing off the ice were slow and steady. It was during this long process, a young voice called out to him. With a grunt at first, his attention didn't turn around.

"Something." Pushing the snow a little bit, he looked over his shoulder. "Go get a shovel." Hey, if the kid wanted to see what he was doing, he would have to do some work. His feet were already starting to get cold and wet, but this was nothing to complain about, it was winter and just one of the many things that happened to be a side effect of nature's power. One last kick of the snow and Hokee used the momentum to spin around. "Nice ice here...."

>> "Something. Go get a shovel. Nice ice here...."

Chase remained rooted in his spot, slender hands still curled around the poles of the fence. Sure, he was helpful, but he was also stubbornly curious. He wouldn't be put to work until his questions were sufficiently answered.

"But why?" Chase pressed-on. He inclined his head, iridescent gaze focused intently on the long-haired boy. His hair was different. Almost like it was braided, but snarled.

"You have funny hair," Chase observed, lingering by the fence, "Why is your hair so funny?"

He wasn't trying to anger the older kid. Chase just needed to know.

Normally after a person would make a request or demand, the other person should do what was asked of them. With this in mind, Hokee left any attention he might have given the younger student and was fully focusing back on clearing his ice again. Who knew how long it would take for him to find a shovel and he wasn't even sure if the kid would be able to focus long enough on what he was looking to do without getting distracted by wanting to play in the snow. Using wider strokes with his leg, he was able to move a larger quantity of snow out of the way, though the path wasn't as smooth.

Of course, he was stuck with one of those kids who questioned everything and the sun. The little irritating kids who always asked why and wouldn't shut up until the hated phrase, 'because I said so' was practically yelled at them. Sure he was a handful most of the time, but that didn't mean he enjoyed or knew how to handle people like this. A good head shoved in the toilet with a few good flushes should get the kid to know his place. Without those tools for teaching, Hokee would be left to do this by other methods. "Just get a shovel before I use you as the first human Zamboni."

Really, was it to much to ask for one simple shovel? If the kid brought him back some toy used for the beaches, he might just have to make a quick deposit of him into the nearest detention center. Then the comment about his hair. His hair was funny? Stupidity seemed to run a muck in the mansion. "Dreadlocks. Its dreadlocks shrimp. Just go get a shovel or hop over the fence and start clearing the ice. Got it? Go then." Little kids, who let them out?

>> "Just get a shovel before I use you as the first human Zamboni."

It could have been so much easier if the long-haired boy just answered Chase's question outright. But, no--instead he opted for insults that were more vague than ever.

"What's a Zamboni?" Chase demanded. Yeah, threats kind of lost their sting when the threatened didn't know what integral words meant.

He was only eight, he didn't know everything. Vague answers only led to more questions. If the older boy was any smarter, he would have known that.

>> "Dreadlocks. Its dreadlocks shrimp. Just go get a shovel or hop over the fence and start clearing the ice. Got it? Go then."

Finally, a straightforward answer--! Dreadlocks, huh? And, he was clearing off the ice. Okay, Chase would help, now. He followed his trail that he made on his approach, only deviating to go towards a barn at the edge of the yard. They would keep shovels in there, right?

Chase bunny-hopped over to the shed, and went in through a small, sheltered entrance. The shovels hung on the far wall.

With an awkwardness in his gait, Chase scampered over, grabbed a shovel, and then slowly made his return. The shovel had been heavier than he had expected. He shuffled back to the fence, victoriously bearing a shovel.

"I found a shovel," Chase informed the long-haired boy. With one hand, he absently tilted the shovel towards the fence, while the other hand held an abnormally long lock of blonde hair. If one looked closely enough, one would notice that the hair was moving on its own accord. Chase was trying to mimic dreadlocks.

The kid didn't know what a Zamboni was.....

For the sake of his own sanity and the living health of the younger mutant, the twerp did wander off. Mumbling and muttering his own obscenities, Hokee tried to continue moving the snow out of the way while holding onto his dignity. This wasn't exactly something that made him look all that impressive, but it didn't matter. It was winter, there was ice and he planned on just taking a small amount of time to enjoy himself.

The high tops dug into his soggy socks, but event the sharp stabbing sensation of rubbing raw flesh didn't hinder him from staying outside. This was just how winter was, it made your feet hurt but once you went inside there was the happy thoughts of hot coco and freshly baked cookies. He wouldn't ask anyone to make them for him, he'd just fuddle around in the kitchen for the hot coco and call it a day. In mid curse string, his eyes caught the sight of the kid again. Damn, he actually got a shovel. Though it was a bit strange how his hair was moving.

Mutant or not, there were somethings he just never thought he'd get used to living in the place. Flying half monkey girl and now this kid who knew nothing about a Zamboni who's hair was moving. The kid was more then a freak, he was weird. "What the hell is up with your hair?" Taking a hold of the shovel, Hokee pulled it over and free from the fence. He could have sworn from a distance the kid's hair was much shorter but now it was all...lumpy.

The older boy took the shovel and pulled it through without so much as a "thank you" to Chase for the favor.

>> "What the hell is up with your hair?"

Chase ceased toying with his hair, his blonde lock reverting to its typical length and texture. He couldn't get the dreadlock just right. His eyes colored with embarassment, and he looked down at the snow.

"I-I, um, was trying to copy, uh, dreadlocks," Chase explained lamely, "I change how I look."

Getting the shovel was his ticket into the gated area, right? Now with his hands free, Chase curled them around two consecutive bars, and pulled himself up. The progress was slow and steady, but eventually, he made it to the top of the fence. Chase perched there, his hands icy cold from the short contact with the wrought-iron, then he hopped down.

Chase righted himself, rubbing his hands together to get some warmth back into them.

"What are we doing?"

Watching the kid climb over the fence was almost entertaining, key word being almost. In mild amusement Though as much of a kick he was getting from watching him, at the same time it seemed to be a rather big waste of time. He could have clearly done so much more work now with a shovel, but there he was standing there letting the kid make a fool of himself. Leaning on the shovel a bit, he continued to watch the free show.

"Copy cat?" Mildly impressed, for the time, he was complimented by the attempts of copying his particular hair style. Though with the yellow hair of the kid and how it had moved about, he looked more like the Cowardly Lion then a Dreadhead. "Huh." He'd have to remember this, the kid might be useful later.

"Clearing the ice." With the shovel ready, he started the pace down the slippery substance pushing the snow off. "You know what skating is....don't you?" With his luck, he'd be stuck with the only kid on earth who didn't know what ice skating was. It wasn't like he was asking him to do flips and twirls and all that jazz. "Or did you grow up in a cave?"

>> "Copy cat? Huh."

Chase nodded. Wordlessly, he remained rooted in his spot, silent eyes watching the older boy steadily work away with shovel in-hand.

>> "Clearing the ice. You know what skating is....don't you? Or did you grow up in a cave?"

"I know what skating is," Chase answered solemnly, hunkering down in the snow. He found a stick and began poking at the snow with it, molding it into a crude, miniature structure. He was really here just to observe. With how this boy addressed him, Chase was none-too-eager to assist.

"And, people don't live in caves," Chase informed the older boy, "Bats and bears do. I'm from a house, Upstate."

Chase wavered between watching the long-haired boy and staring at his building endeavor, too uncertain to move one way or the other until directed by the older boy once more.

At least the kid wasn't half as stupid as he thought. He actually knew what skating was, a small miracle in its own. How rare. With shovel in hand, it was much easier to actually do something about moving the snow instead of taking the risk of getting frost bit on his feet. With a huff of air, Hokee had to give the little kid a tiny bit of credit for the cave comeback. "What you wouldn't like a man cave?" The kid was to young to know or understand, but that was half the fun about it.

The shoveling paused for a second. Did the kid just say Upstate? "Yeah, what part?" He had a good feeling the kid was from the Boonies, or some other hick town. He might have been from Mexico for all he knew. New Yorkers, they all thought they were from Upstate, half of them just were nothing but idiots. "Watertown?" It was possible he could have been from the very Canadian border in the midst of no where. Though, that close to Canada, the kid would have had to watch hockey and know what a Zamboni was.

>> "What you wouldn't like a man cave?"

"No?" Chase guessed. He didn't know what a man-cave was, but he had heard of a caveman. Through some sound, preadolescent logic, Chase had figured that man-caves were caves that cavemen lived in. It made perfect sense to him, so he didn't tell Mr. Dreadlocks that he didn't know what the word meant.

The older boy paused and fixed Chase with a stare when Chase said he was from Upstate. Chase froze, regarding him inquiringly.

>> "Yeah, what part? Watertown?"

"Syracuse," Chase mumbled faintly, his voice barely a hum. It was weird to think of such a recent past. It seemed so far away. He didn't go much further into that topic.

"Can I help?" Chase deigned to ask, daring to lift his gaze towards the long-haired boy. He was getting a little braver.

CLANK

The shovel fell from Hokee's hand and rattled on the frozen ice. "You sh**ing me?" No, there was no way on earth this kid be from the biggest city near where he recently left. There was only a small suburb between the Reservation and Syracuse. He had though that he was the only mutant from that area but her was this kid who had been from there as well. What was the odds of this, it was unreal.

"Seriously...the 'Cuse, the Orange Man....McNabb's collage turf?" Did this kid break into Taylor's office and find what little information might be sitting in an envelope about him? With the ability to change his appearance....could the kid make himself look like that crazy bitch? Hopefully none of his encounters with her was really the kid acting like her. Man...this was intense now.

Bending down, his hands fumbled for the shovel. Not saying anything right away, Hokee pushed the shovel down into the ice to lean his weight on it. "You know the Rez at all? Smoke shop, the Rink?" Was he seriously excited that there was the slight chance the runt knew his turf?

The older boy dropped the shovel, causing Chase to startle and rise to his feet. The noise had sent a shock of adrenaline into his system.

>> "You sh**ing me?"

"Am I what?" Chase mumbled, brow furrowing. He had naive ears, which had scarcely heard such words, and therefore hadn't any memory of them.

>> "Seriously...the 'Cuse, the Orange Man....McNabb's collage turf?"

"Y-yes?" Chase answered dutifully, fussing with his jacket. What of it? Chase couldn't tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he was from Syracuse, yet.

>> "You know the Rez at all? Smoke shop, the Rink?"

"Mmhmm," Chase replied simply, nodding his head, "I know those places."

He'd been to the ice rink a few times. Chase knew of the Smoke Shop and the Reservation, but had never been to those places. He had no business being on the Rez, and neither of his parents smoked.

"Why?" Chase inquired, as was his typical follow-up question, "Are you from there, too?" What Chase really wanted to ask was, could he help, or did he have to answer questions first?

With his mouth a gap, Hokee was dumbstruck. The kid knew what he was talking about, or at least doing a pretty damn good job of pretending he did know. Though there couldn't be much doubt about it, the kid didn't know what a Zamboni was but knew other key elements of the area. It was a pick or choose thing obviously on what was important in life. A pity really, there was nothing more relaxing then watching a Zamboni glide across the ice. To get the chance to actually say he rode on the back of it was a wish and dream he thought every kid had, but he doubted the little mimic kid did.

Gathering himself together, Hokee plucked the shovel and attempted to shoo of the snow again. Caught in the distraction of having someone else at the school who was from his turf, the shovel combed across the snow as it was facing the wrong direction for proper use. "Yeah. Yeah kid..." How could he explain to the short stuff about knowing someone from his area? Not like he was going to have a heart to heart with him any time soon. He was just a squirt, a young ankle bitter.

"I'd kill for a good Jreck Sub right now..." Two for Tuesday sale, how he loved those days. It was a hell of a hike to get up that way, but he could always catch the Centro most of the way there once he got off the Reservation. A nice onion roll with turkey on it....he could almost taste it in his mouth. A bit of onion, lettuce, oil, vinegar, spices and a big soda to go with it. Man, that wasn't stuff you could get in the Big Apple. Sure there were sub shops, but it wasn't the same.