No my brain has never exploded in a sense but my mutation can cause brain bleeds that are worse depending on what you did. She tired as hard as she could to be nonchalant in her explanation of how bad it could be. Brain bleeds weren’t always bad right? And did she really have to tell him about the whole potential of an aneurism thing. She could still remember the doctor standing next to her bed telling her case worker that she was getting brain bleeds for some unknown reason and they would have to keep her for monitoring just in case it turned into an aneurism. She had then asked the first nurse she saw what an aneurism was. She still wished to this day she hadn’t just been pretending to sleep, that she had really been asleep and she had heard none of that. That should could have gone through her life and never had to worry about her brain exploding accidently ever.

Gwen looked confused as she watched him close his eyes for a moment and then open them and start talking. It was a very odd thing to do but she assumed it was from the headache. She could be rather light sensitive when she wanted to be too.

“Nope nothing offensive. In truth I didn’t even know it could do the thing that I just did to you. I have never had a telepath in my head when I have used my mutation before.” She hadn’t even thought about using that as a weapon, but she supposed it could be if wielded correctly. “Your Judo may help but it’s not going stop anything major at that low a level. No offence.” Gwen moved toward the dumpster to move him to lean on it so she could take a look at who was on the street. Something like that but I am still a 20 year old girl and therefore that does not work on everyone. There are plenty of people out here who are bigger than me and don’t care how not afraid of them I seem… And I do not beat people up completely. Only enough to scare them or fake them into thinking I will beat them up all the way. She moved out of the ally looking as normal as usual and throwing a long piece of metal she had picked up over her shoulder like she was done with it. A few people turned around and saw her smug look and decided that it was time to go in the other direction. Even though she would have never hurt someone without some kind of reasoning behind it they didn’t know that so they were still a little afraid of her. She looked right then looked left and determined they were in the clear. All they needed to do was start walking and she could hail a cab at some point and get him to where he needed to go.

Slate wondered, idly, what it took to beat one up 'completely,' as opposed to an 'incomplete' beating. As Gwen dragged him out of the alley, tossing a piece of metal to the ground in her wake, he wondered which it appeared that she had done to him.

My name is Slate, he said, as they walked. I do not believe I have mentioned that.

"Why are you living out here?" He asked, with great tact.

Thus implying it was her choice to do so. It was, wasn't it?

Nice to meet you Slate. Like I said, I’m Gwen. What he said next made Gwen chuckled. Most people assume that I’m a runaway down on my luck or something. Not that I made a choice to live like this. Which I did. She put Slate’s arm over her shoulder and started walking in the direction of downtown. The closer they got to central part the sooner they could find a cab. And if worse came to worse they would be able to get onto the subway eventually. In all truth I do live like this because I want to. For me it is safer then living any other way. She probably shouldn’t be telling him this but he was a telepath and she wasn’t sure if she could actually hide the real answers to his questions if she tried. "So why are you handing out money up here anyway? Guilt?"

>> "So why are you handing out money up here anyway? Guilt?"

"Yes," the young man replied simply, approximately a half-block after Gwen had asked her question. "...I believe I can walk on my own, now. Thank you." He gave this a tentative try, easing himself off of her shoulder. Yes: yes, he could walk. He would not like to attempt running any time soon, but walking was again manageable.

As they waited for the lights to change at block's end, he replied more fully.

I lived on the streets as well, for a short time. It was when I was very young. There was a man who was my friend. I could not help him.

That is when he had learned to heal others. And when he had learned that he could not heal death.

"Was there danger?" He asked, as the crosswalk sign lit up. "Where you lived before?"

He was better at helping people now.

Gwen had never expected him to say that it was guilt. Most rich people handed out money and did charity work so they could ‘give back’. They were trying to make themselves feel better and look better because they had money and well others didn’t. She stopped so he could lift himself off of her slowly. He seemed to be recovering slowly but he was recovering. Gwen would have to file this little skill into the back of her mind for the next time she ran into a telepath that wasn’t as nice as Slate here.

"You lived on the streets?" That was something that she wasn’t expecting. She had thought that he was a little rich kid with a powerful mommy or daddy. She had never thought for a second that he had been one to live on the streets. Did he run away or something.

>>Was there danger? Where you lived before?

Gwen sighed and was once again taxed with making the decision on whether to lie or not. He was already in her head and really she may have thought something that already alerted him to her real reasons for living the way she did. For living off the grid. Yes. It’s complicated. I live this way because I want to not because I have to. She had never really said that to anyone and technically she still hadn’t. She didn’t have to tell him the details but she wasn’t going to risk lieing.

>> Did he run away or something.

"Something of the sort," Slate replied. "I was... quite young at the time. I did not understand what I was doing, or what I would encounter when I did."

Old Larry had taken good care of him, however. Or, at least, good care of the wolfhound who had suddenly imposed itself into his life. Though he was not entirely convinced that the man hadn't known what he really was. Old Larry had been... somewhat difficult to read, even for a psychic. Perhaps, especially for a psychic.

They were entering slightly more hospitable streets now; many of the buildings were still run down, many of the people looked likewise, but there was a livelier air—a sense that these people were making the best of what they had. Particularly some of the restaurants.

Grr grump. Grrru...

A slight red flush crept up Slate's cheeks.

"Would you like to have lunch? It would be my treat, of course. I... believe that I would benefit from sitting down." From eating, as well. His stomach was stating this point with the usual refinement of such organs.

Is it because you enjoy the freedom? I know someone like that.

“I understand that.” If she had known what she would become and what she would live like Gwen may not have left the way she did and ran away like she did. In a hurry and all alone. “I don’t think any kid really knows what they are getting into when they do the whole running away thing. That is why most of them go home. Well that and most of them have something to go home to.”

Gwen watched as they entered the next section of the city as they went south. She had always thought of the city in quadrants and each one was a different type of person. In the quadrant they were in now were a lot of good people. They all had honest jobs and they supported themselves and their families the best they could. Sure there were still those bad apples but it was better than the place they had left where so much of the run down and down trot lived. It was actually a relief to be away from where they had come from. This meant that Gwen was one step closer to getting Slate somewhere where he would be just a little bit safer.

Gwen laughed as she heard the rumble and the question that followed. “I would love to get some food. It is the least I can do after practically wounding your brain. Though if we go somewhere we should go to this little Greek Diner I know that is near here. They are not too expensive and they know me. Not to mention they have great food. How does that sound?”

Slate blinked at Gwen curiously. "Is... being known at a restaurant important? I do not believe I am known at any." Except, perhaps, one Chinese restaurant; but he was known mostly through association with a certain Sara Nobes, not in his own right.

"I have never had Greek food," he said. Though... wasn't Sebastian from Greece originally? What was it that he usually ate? Ah, yes. "Is it... mostly vegetarian?" He hazarded a guess.

So long as it was not like Japanese, then it could not be too intimidating of a cuisine.

Do you have nothing to go home to, then? He added, following a rather different strand of their conversation. I did not have much until recently. Perhaps I could help?

Gwen once again found herself genuinely laughing at the words said by this boy. It almost sounded foreign as it left her mouth but she couldn't' help but do it. The innocence of him was intoxicating, "It can be good if you are like me and don't' exactly have income. The owner's son is a mutant at that school uptown and in exchange for keeping tabs on him I get as much food as I can handle. Comes in handy when your pan handling gig isn't' doing so well and you're not really in the mood to mug anyone so you can buy food."

Gwen walked forward of Slate to lead the way making sure to listen closely so she could hear him behind her, "It isn't' exactly all Greek. It is a dinner that is owned by Greeks. Therefore it is called a Greek Diner. They do however have american fare and a lot of other stuff. Though their Gyros are really good and as far as I know Greek food involves a lot of meat. Lamb mostly."

Gwen stopped in her tracks as the subject changed in a hurry. She wasn't sure what had brought on the sudden curiosity about her living situation, but as to not be rude she would have to snub it out fast. She turned to face him with a smirk on her face, "You know the more you talk to more you confuse me you silly rich boy." And no I don't' have a home to go back to. And frankly I don't mind much. The home I did have wasn't anything to brag about.

Not 'a' school uptown: 'that' school uptown. "Oh. Does he attend Xavier's? I have a residence there, though I attend college elsewhere." His technical college did not offer dormitories; even if they had, their dorms would not have offered Katrina.

So you do mug people? Were you... really going to mug me?

They neared the restaurant. Its sign was somewhat faded, but still readable; its windows somewhat fogged, but they looked in on a shop that appeared well tended. The smell was... intriguing. Slate had never eaten a lamb, to his knowledge.

>> "You know the more you talk the more you confuse me you silly rich boy."

Blink. The young Italian tilted his head. "I confuse you?"

...I am 'silly'?

“If that’s what it’s called. Never asked for its name.” Gwen shrugged not really worried about racking her brain to think if he had ever mentioned the name. Whether it was or not really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Yes I mug people. Sometimes you learn very quickly that you have to do what you have to do to survive…. And in all honesty I thought about it but decided against it. I don’t really need the money right now so I don’t see the point. I only really mug people when I have no other choice.

Gwen could smell the delightfulness of the restaurant as they neared. As the smell hit her nose she began to realize just how hungry she was. It had been at least a day since she had eaten but that wasn’t really something unusual for her. “Yes you confuse me. I have never met a rich boy that acted like you do. That and you keep saying things that don’t fit the way you look how old you are and the amount of money you have.” Gwen opened the door and gestured for Slate to go in before her, “And I call everyone by some kind of name. It is easier then remembering actual names.”

Slate entered the restaurant, wondering if it was proper to have the lady hold the door for him. Even if she was a rather tattered, part-time mugger lady.

"...So my nickname is 'Rich Boy'?"

Or was it 'Silly Rich Boy'? Some things, even Slate feared to ask.

He did not quite know how to classify the spices and scents he was smelling. Vegetarian, it was certainly not. He made sure to reach their table before her, and pull out her chair: this helped atone for her beating him to the door.

"I was not precisely born rich." ...To say nothing of his age. "Is there a manner in which I should be acting?"

What is a giro? Slate asked, pronouncing the menu item as it had clearly been intended. Like a gyroscope, correct?

Gwen thought for a second, “Yup. Or some variation thereof. I like to mix it up.”

Gwen walked right up to the counter and smiled happily at the older looking obviously Greek gentleman standing on the other side. “Hello Mr. Kostopoulos. Table for 2 please.” She didn’t hesitate for a second to give the old man a kind and playful smile of familiarity. This man was one she actually trusted and gaining Gwen’s trust was never easy. He had picked her up when she was down and she would be forever grateful to him and his kindness.

“Gwendolyn.” The man had a thick Greek accent as he raised his arms moving out from behind the counter to hug her, which she accepted graciously, “How are you my dear? You are looking very thin. I will give you best table in the house for you and your boyfriend.” He started leading the way with a huge goofy smile full of happy wrinkles that showed he was no stranger to smiles.

He took them to a table near the window of the restaurant in a less busy section that Mr. Kastopoulos knew Gwen enjoyed to sit in. It wasn’t really the best seat in the house but it was surely where Gwen preferred to be. The old man smiled at Slate who had beaten him to pulling out the young ladies chair. “Very polite young man you have here.”

“Thanks. I stumbled on him out in the street and he said he was hungry so here we are.” Gwen joked as she swiftly sat down.

“Here are your menus. Order anything you want. On the house.” He placed two very large diner menus in front of the pair, “We need ot make sure that Gwendolyn eats after all.” With one final smile the man was gone leaving them alone to decide what they wanted and talk amongst themselves. Gwen was sure that Mr. Kastopoulos thought that this man may be on a date with her but she didn’t mind. She knew that the old man really just wanted what was best for her even if they were not actually related.

>>I was not precisely born rich. Is there a manner in which I should be acting?

Gwen raised an eyebrow at Slate. “Most rich kids are spoiled and entitled and often just come out here to make themselves look good instead of actually helping anyone. And it’s pronounced yeer-oh.” (roll the r)

'Mr. Kostopoulos' involved an interesting arrangement of letters. Slate tried it out on his tongue, silently, attempting not to be too obvious about it.

"Yeur-oh." Another intriguing set of sounds. This one, he practiced out loud, with her permission. "Yeer-oh. Is that correct?" There were other items on the menu, but none which were quite as phonically challenging. He would have to order a yeer-oh. With lamb: she had mentioned lamb outside, and indeed, that option was listed. If people ate baby sheep, presumably it was because they tasted good. He would test this hypothesis.

Just to be clear, Slate discretely spoke, after her father figure had gone back to the counter, I harbor no romantic intentions towards you. I do not mean to imply that you are unattractive—I simply have prior engagements.

Or he would, as soon as he asked for Katrina's hand. He was simply... waiting for the proper moment.

A slight flush crept up the Italian's cheeks as he diligently stared at his menu.

“Perfect.” Gwen smirked at the boyish want to make sure the word was pronounced correctly. The more she leanred about Slate the more he seemed kind of child like. It was actually rather interesting. Oh trust me I have no intention of thinking this is a date. I hadn’t even assumed you were even remotely interest. No offence but you are a little young for me. Well Naïve, no offence.

Gwen had never actually been out on a real date. She had lived on the streets since before the prospect had even tried to arise and when you are a homeless girl it is a little harder to get guys to ask you out. And really lets face it she had a few trust issues that made dating and relationships a little hard when you got down to it.