"Family dinner" was a surprisingly accurate description of what happened in the Sanctuary every evening. Not only did the staff serve food on trays and in bowls from which the Sanctuary's residents would serve themselves, but the Sanctuary itself had grown into a really tight-knit community. It took just a few weeks for Dorian to get a grasp of all the names and faces, and even less time for him to feel like he had gained a second family. An eclectic, dangerous, and often criminal family, but a second family nonetheless. One that didn't constantly pour salt into the gaping wound in his ego by comparing him to his siblings.

Dorian's "second family" was a little bit more fun to be around.

Today, dinner was an edible substance that almost resembled lasagna. Not something you'd find in a five-star restaurant, but it sure beat the hell out of Ramen. Even so, it always surprised him that Lori Faust, the rich, beautiful CEO of Faust Pharmaceuticals and owner of the Sanctuary kept sharing dinner with guys like Dorian, when she could probably afford to buy a five-star restaurant. And it always struck him as odd that this woman, rich as she was, would let her adopted daughter live there in the Sanctuary, too. There were a lot of mysterious things about this woman. The street performer had met her in passing several times before, but never had the opportunity to carry on a conversation with her.

As Lori walked through the door into the Dining Hall, Dorian joined everyone else in greeting her with a friendly wave.

"Hey, guys!" The Order Leader waved one-handedly with all the enthusiasm of a child beckoning a puppy closer. There was something severely satisfying in going somewhere where everybody knew her name. Probably why that TV show Cheers went on for so many more years than it should have. Everybody needed somebody.

"I noticed that the egalitarian regime continues its bloody opposition to the oppression of elves…" From behind her back, Lori produced a severed plastic Santa's head. She set the rosy cheeked butterball face onto the table before finding a place along the side somewhere. The table had a head (besides Santa's), but that wasn't her place here. Lori ate the same —was that lasagna?— as everybody else.

It was clear from her grin that she wasn't exactly upset about it, but the growing number of Frankenstein Santas and repaired wreaths and garlands was a direct indication of how much Lori was willing to spend replacing the cheesy decorations. Their budget was better spread elsewhere. Repairs for the actual building, for example, took up a big chunk of change each month. Accidents happened when you took in the young, the old, the tired, the hungry and the inexperienced. After one particularly stressful day of shepherding, Lisa pointed out that if they stopped accepting teenagers almost all their bills would halve themselves.

Lori craned her neck in search of her favorite Orderling, who lately remained absent from these dinners. Thus was the life of a spy in deep cover. It was both good and sad that she wasn't here. "So what's up?" Someone passed her a plate and Lori nabbed a breadstick first. That looked safe enough.

It looked like the annual Communist revolution in the North Pole had gone well. Leave it to the Sanctuary residents to come up with a "Christmas tradition" that involves show trials and gruesome executions for every facsimile of Santa Claus they could get their hands on. The whole thing was actually kinda funny, if a little on the twisted side. There were those who thought that the whole "Democratic People's Republic of the North Pole" thing was a real joykill, but the darker side of the Sanctuary's festivities usually happened when it was too late at night for anyone to do anything about it.

And Lori didn't seem to mind too much. Noticing her expression, and the other residents' chuckles, Dorian let himself grin.

>>"So what's up?"

Dorian pulled a red marker out of his pocket and began to write, seemingly on the air itself. In reality, he had just conjured up a small, invisible dry-erase board.

"I disabled the smoke detector in Jacko's room for him, so the system would stop dousing him every morning," said one man. Or was it a woman? The mutant's skin was all gray, its head was hairless, earless, and faceless, save for holes where its eyes, ears, and mouth should be, and its voice was neither distinctly male nor female. It actually had to grow that mouth-like thing earlier to start talking to them. Everyone just called her "Grey." Or him, as the case might have been. It would probably be impolite to ask.

"Sure that's a good idea?" the person who spoke now was, almost certainly, a guy. "You two might be fireproof, but most of us aren't."

Grey shrugged. "We keep fire extinguishers with us. Better than sleeping in a soggy mattress all the time."

Dorian's eyebrows raised a little at the word 'we.' Instead of wondering too much about that, he turned his invisible board around for the others to read. His day was probably a little more interesting.

I'm still trying to find out more about the "Order" from my future dreams. Don't know if it exists yet, but I found some groups that might turn into it

He shoveled some lasagna onto his plate, keeping his message visible to the others. Some of these others shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Actually, the sprinklers in my room are disabled too. I've got a carbon monoxide detector that alerts whoever's on security. We can get a similar setup for you guys." Not that fire extinguishers weren't a good idea, but for the safety of those around Jack and Grey's room, it was better or someone who was obligated to be responsible for the lives of those in the Sanctuary to be in the know.

Lori waited her turn before scooping up some lasagna too. The sauce was that sort of orangey tomato that only seemed to come from a cafeteria. It reminded her of the frozen ones her older brother had sometimes bought.

While she had been helping herself, the table fell into quiet. That meant either the food was good and everyone was busy stuffing their talk holes or the mime was "talking."

One last scoop of noodles slorped onto Lori's plate as she read the practiced handwriting that hung out near Dorian. His power was seriously cool.

Janna, the purple haired girl next to Lori who could shoot purple spikes shifted uncomfortably. She knew. A lot of those at the table knew, in fact, but Lori couldn't just tell Dorian the truth. Not everyone at the table wanted to know that kind of thing.

"You had a future dream?" Janna relaxed a bit when Lori handed off the spoon and bowl to her. Also, Lori was incredibly interested in Dorian's theories. She just loved theories. Someone handed her a bowl of salad, the vegetable for this meal. She scooped herself some of that too.

All of a sudden, their part of the table got real quiet. Eyes darted from Lori, to Dorian, and back again. The mime failed to notice. With a flourish, he grabbed an invisible eraser off the table and wiped his board clean before writing his answer.

I did

He gave everyone a second to read his answer before turning it around to elaborate.

in my dream I helped this "Order" take over Australia then fought in WWIII

Dorian gave himself a mouthful of lasagna before posing her a question:

Have you had one?

Future-dreamers were few and far in between, but it never hurt to ask. The more he found out about the dreams, the more he could put in his book. He thought his next attempt at a book could be about the future everyone was dreaming about; surprisingly enough, while there have been short articles here and there, nobody else seemed to have written a book about it yet. Or at least not one he'd been able to find.

"Have you ever met Bauccus Brickson? He told me much the same story, but I never had The Dream." Capital T. Capital D. She didn't have to be writing it out for the emphasis to come across in conversation.

> "It's a bizarre phenomenon that so many people have overlapping stories."

"There are a lot of overlapping stories about Big Foot too. At least somebody got pictures of him." She was half teasing, half sour. Why didn't she get an awesome dream about the future?

"Did you know that some Mormons think Big Foot is Cain? Cursed to walk the earth forever all hairy and sh*t."

And just like that that the conversation was moving on. Lori munched a few bites of lasagna before turning her attention back to Dorian. "Does your marker board only work for you or can other people hold it too?" She was trying to think of some way to get skin contact with the silent mutant. If she could do that then she could tell him the truth in his head where nobody else would have to hear it.

Dorian shook his head; he hadn't met anyone named "Bauccus" yet. Just when he thought he knew everyone, too. He decided to ask around about him and try to get an interview or something, when he got the chance. Shaking his head was all he had time for before the conversation kept chugging along. It's hard to get a word in edgewise when you can't say anything. But he did manage this:

Big Foot sightings probably = mutants

At least, that's the best explanation that the scientific community has been able to come up with. Heck, if they took a blurry enough photograph of the Sanctuary's dining hall right now, they could probably claim a handful of "Big Foot Sightings" in the middle of Brooklyn.

>"Does your marker board only work for you or can other people hold it too?"

It would be more fun to demonstrate than to give Lori a straight answer. After erasing his bigfoot comment, he wrote go ahead and held the board out for the Sanctuary's owner to grab.

Go ahead? Perfect. Lori reached out for the invisible slate and rather than fumble around for something she could not see, she leaned over the table and caught Dorian's hand. A little static shock jumped between their hands and Lori shrugged with an apologetic smile.

Bingo.

Also. Freaking cool.

Smooth on the front. Rounded corners. Just like every other whiteboard she'd ever seen of this approximate size. She had fun finding the edges and feeling how real and normal it was.

Also, the skin contact. She was really in it for that brief touch of their hands. The table's conversation faded into background noise as she focused. It looked like the marker board fascinated her. Which it did. But her real goal was trying to trace that little shock that had jumped between them. She would trace it up into his head and...

Lori had seen quite a few electrical patterns in quite a few brains. Dorian's was a little bit different. Okay. Everyone's was different but his... she foolishly thought that a mute wouldn't have a whole lot going on in the verbal center of his head. And as such, she decided the best way to intrude on someone's thoughts was to first, copy a little hello into his head before copying back what he had to think about that.

Would you like this back? Lori waggled the invisible marker board as if he could see it. Well, at least he could see the motion.

Most of all, Lori was looking forward to being one of the few people who knew what Dorian sounded like, even if it was only in his head.

The shock surprised Dorian a bit, but he just smiled back and shrugged. Mutation accidents happen. Lori probably knew that better than anyone else, funding the Sanctuary and all that. He enjoyed watching Lori with his invisible board. She was fascinated, and by something that he could do, no less. There was something to be said about doing something that fascinated a beautiful woman like her.

His mind was going places. Though, in his defense, any other guy's mind would be moving in those same directions, around someone like her. Even so, when he heard her voice without seeing her lips move, he started to feel a little bit worried.

He shook his head, suddenly averting his eyes from Lori's. Uh, no thanks. I can make another one pretty easily. Also... are you reading my mind right now? Because I thought you could just do electro-magnetic stuff. When the mute thought, he still imagined his old voice, from back when he was in tenth grade. It was unusually deep, for a sixteen-year-old's. Not as much so for an adult's.

Dorian looked back up at Lori, half-expecting an answer, half-hoping that this whole thing really just wasn't happening.

Oh. Well if he didn't want it back... Lori tried to find a place for it. She wasn't sure if it would just... go away if no one was touching it or what. The blonde ended up slipping the slate under her chair. She used the excuse to duck her head away from the crowd while she sent Dorian another quick little brain message.

You would be surprised what the leader of the Order can do.

"What do you think?" The girl next to Lori was trying to engage her in conversation again now that she was done inspecting Dorian's invisible hoojoo.

"What are we talking about? I got a little distracted." The girl explained a hair-brained scheme to capture the golden angel off of the top of a local Mormon temple and melting it down and selling it to help fund the Sanctuary. The whole scenario had Lori laughing.

"Sounds like I'd have to use the money to bail you all out of jail."

Blue eyes flicked back to Dorian. Meet me in my office after dinner. Not everybody knows.

"What about the Masons? They're all supposed to be rich, right?"

"Do you even know any Masons?" Lori dropped her attention sucking link to Dorian and the conversation went on.

The leader of the Order. You're the leader of the Order? It existed already, and she was its leader?

Nobody thought much of a mute choosing to eat instead of participating in their conversation. Which was good, for once, because he needed some time to absorb what he'd just... heard? Heard. It was as good a word as any to describe the experience, Dorian decided.

He also decided to accept the Order leader's invitation. Minutes after his stomach was satisfied and full of lasagnalike substance, he was knocking on the door to Lori's office. And since he was dealing with someone whom he assumed was a telepath, he decided that he should try to cool it on a certain kind of daydream most men at the Sanctuary were also probably having. While he was at it, he decided to avoid thinking about pink elephants, too. Because, frankly, pink elephants didn't have very much to do with anything.

"Come in." She didn't normally get down to Sanctuary business until later in the evening so it was a bit unusual for Lori to be in her office right after a family dinner but not unheard of. And since she had only just finished her own lasagna not too much before Dorian had, the blonde hadn't even bothered to crack open a single file or expense report.

The office floor and guest chairs were all brushed silver metal, neither of which looked terribly comfortable. Lori's chair was a far more agreeable looking leather chair on casters. Between that and the full sized desk, her furniture seemed big enough to swallow her whole. The office was pretty sparse excepting an ever present mess of a paper mountain that passed for a filing system, a DeLacroix painting, a Bone Bikini Babe poster and a placard that simply stated that this was the Sanctuary Director's office.

"I'm guessing you have questions." She held out her hand for his. Lori had let their link fizzle, but having peeked inside his head before, it wouldn't take too long to fan that flame back to life. All it needed was a single spark.

Lori Faust owned a Bone Bikini Babe poster? ...Dorian wasn't sure how to feel about that. Though how he felt or didn't feel about that didn't really have anything at all to do with the Order. He made a conscious effort not to think about it in front of the telepathic Order leader. Instead, he would think about those questions she was guessing he would have.

He nodded, and reached out to take her hand as he tried to send some thoughts her way. Yeah, I do, actually. For starte – Ow! Right as he was about to touch her hand, he got zapped. The spark that flew between their hands made a loud pop and made his arm feel slightly stiff for the next minute or so. He quickly pulled that hand back away from Lori. ...Touching you isn't really a good idea, is it?

Now for an actual question. So, it doesn't really look like you're in the middle of taking over Australia right now. If the Order isn't doing that right now, what are they doing? Dorian's only reference point for how the Order functioned was how they worked during Australia's future-revolution, and Lori's Order didn't seem to be doing anything like that. Or, at least, not as openly as the future's Order.

She didn't see a marker board, but that didn't mean anything. The darn thing was invisible. Instead, she had held out her hand for his and he had taken it with minimal complaint.

Touching me can be safe or very, very unsafe depending on the circumstances.[/color] She sounded just as amused as she looked. Her "telepathic link" seemed a secure way of sharing information, but it was more than that. It was a way to ensure honesty on both parts. Ever try to censor your thoughts?

Would you care to take a seat? Lori motioned with her hand to one of the metal chairs across from her desk.

> So, it doesn't really look like you're in the middle of taking over Australia right now. If the Order isn't doing that right now, what are they doing?

I have no designs on Australia. I don't really care about international affairs. Not with so much going on at home. Lenna has a hold of Columbia and we've been benefiting in part from the drug trade there. This kind of conversation allowed Dorian to hear Lori as she heard herself and how she imagined her inflections would sound as if she spoke aloud. Since she got to hear herself everyday, hers was not so different from the real thing.

The future that so many dreamed about has been aborted. With so much unique foresight of the issue, it was decided that Haywire was the cause. As I understand things, destroying what would someday develop into the virus effectively freed us from that path. Lori bet that she wasn't even Order leader in the future Dorian had seen. She didn't articulate this thought aloud, but the thought did come from her.

Dorian hesitated. Nice. Metal chairs, electro-magnetic Order leader, suspicious guy who knows too much... what could possibly go wrong? I don't even know; I'm just gonna sit here and act like you're not thinking about killing me.

He parked his rear end on it anyway, forced a smile, and almost screamed at himself to shut up. Pardon me. I've pulled the trigger on guys like me before,nd I'm sitting in what might soon be an electric chair.

He leaned in. Anyway... Columbia? Why haven't I been reading about that in the papers? If the Order I used to know took over something like that, I feel like I should've heard about it in the news by now. There should be headlines out there that go something like "Columbia Taken Over By Big, Scary, Mean, Evil, Mutant, Terrorist Gangsters Who Hate Puppies."

Not that our news media is biased or anything, Dorian added hastily. He would have thrown in a nervous laugh, too, if he could still laugh.