So this was the famous Xavier's Sister School for Gifted and Talented Children.

Miles wondered if it had any nuns. He wasn't interested in being educated by nuns and he completely ignored what the "Sister" part of the name stood for, but some guys at the Sanctuary had mentioned that the "Gifted and talented children" part really meant "mutant youngsters" instead of brainiacs. Miles was interested.

"You'll never be anyone! You'll never be anything if you keep this up! How many mutant doctors have you met? How many patients do you think you'll get if they know you're a mutant? You can't be a doctor if you don't go to school and HOW MANY SCHOOLS DO YOU THINK ACCEPT MUTANTS!? Miles, for your own good, GET RID OF THE DAMN DOGS!

His father's words rang down his ears as if they were back in the van and he were yelling them at him right now. He lowered his gaze to the ground, wondering where his father was at this very moment. Would he be worried for his son? He was certainly worried about Miles sticking to his guns and ruining his life by keeping the dogs. The beasts just tagged him as a mutant so easily and they'd only make his life more complicated. For all the yelling and the insulting, Miles had come to realize his dad was just worried about him and his future.

Well, worry no more, dad.

The teenager opened the metal gate to the mansion and started strolling towards the main door. He had no clue how much it would cost or how good the education was, but if they accepted mutants, it was worth asking at least. He had walked all the way from Sanctuary to Xavier's and had only brought Tinaker this time around, leaving Astor keeping watch in his room at sanctuary. The dog was too big and creepy anyway and he didn't want to call any attention to himself while Tinaker was smaller and his fur helped hide his muscular build, with the only giveaway to his weirdness being his eyes. He could pass for a normal dog if you saw him from a distance. Then squinted your eyes. Really hard.

The doors weren't golden, but they let themselves be rapped really well with two knuckles. Miles did so, sighed and hoped for the best.

Granny had had a very nice day. Having had no class to take care of for that day, she had instead opted for a day of studying for her Chemistry-Bsc in the library (which was unusually hushed after books had mysteriously started hovering menacingly around the heads of offenders) and then proceeded to use the rather practical application of organic chemistry that was baking. She needed a bit of relaxation after all. A flurry of activity had made the kitchen first a blinking thing that was not usually seen in a teen-infested environment and then filled it with the smell of baked goodies. Chocolate chip cookies were soon out of the oven and had started evaporating into the mouthes of said infestation as soon as the smell had started making its way past the closed door of the baking area. Presently there were apple tarts with almonds taking up all space in the big oven.

A knock from the main doors penetrated her meditative silence, invading the private thoughts she had had. About making some concoction of chocolate and chillies that might be unpalatable to younger mouths but which she had learned to enjoy during a stint to hawaii about a year back. And yes, she had also been surfing there, much to the chargrin of her doctor. That man had proceeded to tell her all about her old and brittle bones. A smile had shut him up. That and the old woman actually saying something along the lines of: Old people need their little rewards as well.

But back to the noise at the door. Granny retrieved her walking stick from where it had leaned close to the door with nothing but a small application of her will and then proceeded to open it by the same means. Then the old lady slowly started hobbling forward to the door. Sadly she had not yet figured out how to move herself using her powers. That might be something good. But then again it would probably increase that damnable stiffness that proceeded, year after year, to invade more of her joints.

After a few minutes - Miles would have to endure that wait - the doors into the Mansion opened up. Out strolled an aged woman wearing a flower-printed dress that was slightly too large for her failing frame as well as the smell of baking and chocolate. "Welcome to the Mansion!" Her voice was a warm alto that had aged rather well. Slightly rheumy looking eyes found first not the person but the dog that had taken his place at the doors. "Such a good dog." She mumbled loudly, while proceeding to pet the animal with well-manicured hands. And no, she neither seemed to notice the eyes, nor the unusual size of the animal. Or, living at the Mansion, she was so accustomed to strange beasts wanderin in that she simply did not startle easily.

Her eyes suddenly piercing found the young boy at her doorstep. "And what might old Granny do for you, boy?"

Was anybody home?

The place was eerily quiet, to the point Miles thought he had knocked on the wrong door, even though the wooden surface was too big and too elaborate to be something other than the main entrance. The slit of space between the door and the frame revealed nothing, so he considered knocking again but did not want to seem overeager or downright annoying.

He had come over wearing his best clothes which wasn't saying much, considering he had run away from home and his backpack at the time was full of jeans and t-shirts, all of them meant for informal occasions. Today's t-shirt was dark burgundy, his jeans were black and his sneakers had been washed at least. His hair had been combed at the beginning of the day but a walk from Sanctuary to Xavier's and exposure to the elements had brought forth signs of rebellion among the constantly warring factions of hair that grew on his head.

Miles took a couple of steps back and considered taking a peek through any of the many windows placed all over the walls before knocking again. It was then that the door opened ever so slowly and an old lady came out giving him a warm welcome in an almost cheerful tone. Her garment tagged her as 'not a nun' but of all the possible outcomes his youthful imagination had figured could come out from the door of a mutant school, 'old lady in a flowery dress' was not even in the top twenty.

She patted Tinaker's head and gave the beast a compliment, even though the dog was doing his best Chuck Testa masterpiece impersonation, not reacting to the pat, the compliment or the delicious smell of chocolate wafting out of the door. Miles' stomach acids perked their juices up and his sweet tooth grabbed a fork as he now stepped forward to stand next to his thrall and make his presence known. He beamed a smile to the old lady who was likely too near sighted to notice his "good dog" gave other people the creeps and wondered if he should raise his voice or lower it when addressing her.

When she asked what she could do for him, he wasn't entirely sure because he didn't know if he was talking to the owner of the mansion, like a real life Madame Foster, or the grandmother of the owner of the mansion, kept around for housekeeping and such. He clasped his hands together over his belly, lowered his head a little and tried to be polite, speaking in a rather low tone, deciding it was better to be asked to raise his voice than asked to shut up.

"Hi! I'm... uhm.... my name is Miles Haxton and I've been told this is a school for... gifted people" he said, disliking that 'gifted' part of the description. He considered his 'raising and enslaving the dead' mutation more of a curse than a gift and preferred to get rid of it instead of doing anything worthwhile with it. "I was wondering if I could... I don't know, talk to someone about it? I'm interested in my education as you can see..." he added, knowing that old ladies were usually happy to see young people interested in learning stuff "... so I just wanted to know what sort of things I needed to enroll at the school, if that's at all possible?"

Done with the dog, the friendly smile settled like a warm blanket over the boy. Encouraging, personal. Nothing like those social smiles you always get from people who conveniently forgot your name despite ten years of continuous contact in school. This was a smile of remembrance, an embracing smile. As he spoke it changed though. Her head dropped in his direction, shoulders hunching a bit to get closer. Her eyes closed as well. As if there was something she did not want to see. Or something she wanted to remember.

The words coming our of her mouth though... those were definitifely something different. Earhty undertones made them sound almost like... swearwords. "Do speak up young man. These old bones tend to rattle too loudly for me to hear whispers." And indeed the woman had trouble hearing. The last five years had been an experience for her she had rather not have had. Or in other words: Her age had inevitably crippled her senes, which had come both as a sneaking and devastating blow to a lively woman. A woman who was still lively and active (cynical tounges at the mansion would say: too active).

She righted herself rather suddenly, opening her eyes again. Now sanding erect and slightly queenlike she announced. "Ans while you tell me again, come in and have a cookie. They are fresh." Something of a needless pronouncement as the smells were now near-overpowering now. But there it was again, that old smile, as the woman turned around and began to shuffle through the grand entrance hall with its ancient paintings and worn, creaking steps in the direction of the kitchen. Her steel-tipped cane made clinking noises on the dark polished hardwood floor. From somewhere in front of the a child screaqmed merrily about baked goods in the kitchen. Sounds of life were closing in on them. Or they on them.
"You like chocolate." It was not a question but a statement of fact. Most every teenager liked chocolate.

Her heart warming smile gave the young mutant a small boost of confidence as he mumbled and 'uhm-ed' his question to her. He had serious doubts he could enroll in a school, even if it was a school for the 'gifted', without contacting the parents he had run away from to pay for tuition or sign the paperwork, but asking never hurt anyone before. He was still hesitant about swallowing his pride and giving them a call, prefering to cross that bridge when he got there.

His mumblings seemed to be having a curious effect on the wrinkled woman who, for a moment, Miles feared he had bored into slumber. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be straining, leaning towards him a bit which only made him talk in an even lower tone, until she opened her eyes, snapped back at him and demanded him to speak up.

"I'm sorry..." he immediately apologized with another whisper, slightly embarrassed, his eyebrows high and his mind backtracking to rephrase his question. Then he remembered what she had just said regarding her hearing. "I'm SORRY!" he repeated, louder this time. She'd probably think he was canadian.

"YES! I would like to have a cookie! Thank you!" he pronounced after she offered him one and invited him to come in. Miles and Tinaker followed 'Granny' inside and into the mansion's kitchen, where other students were already circling and prowling around a tray of quickly vanishing tarts and chocolate chip wafers. "I LOVE Chocolate!" he replied to the old lady's guess as he now stretched his arm and tried to reach a cookie before they were all gone.

He snapped one up and felt in heaven the moment he took a bite out of it. Chewing and savoring it, he took his time to swallow before being able to speak again. "You're very kind, ma'am" he started, taking a look around at his surroundings as he spoke. The inside of the mansion was quite fancy and well kept, with some of its inhabitants having clearly visible mutations. "My name is Miles Haxton and I was told this is a school for gifted students. Gifted as in... mutants" he added as he signaled his dog to come closer. Tinaker approached the boy and he patted the unflinching animal with its red, glowing eyes on the head. Miles then lowered his gaze, staring at his own shoes.

"I'm a mutant myself. I... I had a fallout with my dad because of it and it didn't end up well. I kind of... ran away from him" the youngster admitted, not knowing what sort of reaction Granny would have to that. She seemed the grandmotherly type indeed and chances were high she'd side with his old man, but he felt he needed to lay his cards on the table and hope for the best. "I'm very interested in moving on with my life and that includes... an education. So I was wondering what it took for this school to accept me as a student"

Rambaucious teenagers had, of course, followed the smell of her goodies right to the source. The Mansions typical inhabitant could smell a cookie in the making far better than any dog she knew of. Or maybe it was just another one of the precogs informing the others of the fact that Things Were In The Making. She glared at the rapidly forming mob with an opened mouth. Another word would have been too nice. Her face clouding with something every teen would call dangerous. Or at least the ones who knew Old Crayze as their teacher. Those now quickly, and most strangely, quietly proceeded to slip out of the kitchen, cookies firmly in hands. Some of the smaller kids remained, though, running circles around Miles and staring big-eyed stares at Tinnaker.

"Granny, Granny, theres a big mutant Dog in the kitchen." a girl of maybe five announced in a demanding voice. Her mouth was smeared with chocolate and her eyes were sparkling. Literally sparkling. They gave off a radiant light, now golden, then blue, shifting through hues as her moods overcame her.

The old lady banished the clouds from her face as quickly as they had appeared. A smile was now firmly rooted there. It was as if the danger had never existed at all. The door opened. An older teenager with multi-colored hair and a few piercings looked in. He blanched. The door closed again. He had remained outside. Then again... maybe that danger had been real after all. The old Alto pronounced: "Rebecca, yes, theres a dog here. And now off you go, wash your hands and face before you play with him. You should have done that before eating, too." The girls eyes shifted again as she smiled. "Yes Granny." The old lady had, of course, slipped another of her cookies into the gils pockets. Which the small one knew. And Miles would have probably seen it happening.

"Now where was I?" She asked the room. The two remaining kids had settled at a table some meters off, talking quietly amongst themselves. "Oh yes!" Her eyes focused on Miles again. "Sorry, young man... ah... Miles, but they are a wild bunch!" She seemed to collect herself for another few seconds. Closed her eyes. Clattering happened. As if dishes moved in the kitchen.

"This is Xaviers Sister School for gifted Youngsters, yes. Mutants as some people call them. Others homo superior. The names do not matter much to me." Her hand whisked away the philosophical differences with an imperious gesture. From behind Miles more clattering happened. It seemed a greenishly glowing knife was busily chopping up a steak into Tatare. All by itself. The things you saw at a mutant school.

"And as it happens, many people of our inclination find themselves in your predicament over their teenage years when their powers first tend to manifest. It is good that you came here for an education. We will help you with that..." Her old people smile said, that they would help with much more also. So much more it said. "... our guidance Counselor would help you finish the details, but we have funds available for students with a history like your own, so we pretty much only need..." A greenly glowing platter came over to the two of them. The two at the table ignored it completely. An everyday occurence it seemed. "... ah. Does your dog like steak? And do take another cookie yourself!" Yes, the old lady was a bit of a whirlwind.

He had certainly made it to the right place, that was for sure, and it was clear freshly baked cookies had the same alluring powers over mutants that they did on humans. The kitchen was prowling with people, some older and some much younger than him, some with very visible mutations and others looking quite normal like he himself did, though he had no doubt that was only on the surface. Their noisy nature seemed to bother his host somewhat but her face soon changed when a small child inquired about Miles' dog.

The boy smiled as Rebecca's bright, color changing eyes stared at his canine and called it a 'mutant dog'. She was wrong, of course. Miles was the mutant and the dog was... something else, which he didn't bother explaining to her. She managed to bring out Granny's motherly side though and her childish enthusiasm even earned her a surreptitious cookie from the old woman's deftly hand. They were a wild bunch indeed, but there was also warmth in the place, a sense of belonging that you could hardly find anywhere else but in a mutant haven. It felt like family to a point and she was the grandmother of them all.

Miles turned when he heard kitchen implements clinging and clanking and his eyes went wide when the cook turned out to be non existent. This would take a little of getting used to if they accepted him, so when she finally answered him that question, he actually felt relieved. It was almost too good to be true, but he didn't think she'd be lying about something like this and apparently... his case was nothing special. Mutation struck around teenage years and whoever founded the school already had measures in place for youngsters in exactly his same predicament.

"That... that's excellent news!" he said, bringing his hands to his hair, almost in disbelief. "And... does my dog like steak?"

What a wonderful question. He wished he knew the answer.

His dogs had stopped eating when he turned them. They had stopped drinking, licking, panting, peeing and pooping all together as well and now that he was being offered food, it seemed odd that Tinaker had not even jumped at the chance like any ordinary dog would, regardless that the tray was floating in a creepy green, hopefully not radioactive, glow. The dog's snout was a mere couple of feet away from the tray and Miles himself could even feel that tasty, meaty aroma but the dog remained still. Granny had been so nice and so welcoming that having his dog reject her offering almost seemed... rude.

"Of course he likes steak! It's his favorite!" Miles said with a sheepish grin as he urged the dog to eat. "Come on, Tinaker, have at it!"

He said these words out loud for her pleasure, but his mind had also delivered all sorts of commands to the canine. 'Eat the meat!' 'wiggle your body like you're happy!' 'wag your tail!' 'slobber a little!'. All of these commands were meant to make him look somewhat like a normal dog and he had no idea what sort of consequences would eating food have on a dog that no longer seemed to need it, but he took the chance anyway.

The dog complied... with rather awkward results. His expressionless face bit at the meat unenthusiastically as his body shook and his tail wagged in completely uncoordinated fashion. Instead of that 'Yay! I'm happy to be fed!' vibe, it seemed like Miles' thrall was suffering from some kind of cerebral palsy or maybe someone was electrocuting him from afar. As soon as the steak was gone however, his weird, fake doggy squirming stopped and he stood still once more, next to the boy.

"Good dog!" Miles said, patting him on the head. He then reached for the offered cookie, considered giving it to the dog as a treat for his so-so performance but why waste something so delicious on someone who wouldn't appreciate it? So he bit half of it, savored it and smiled at her with his cheeks still munching as he waited for Granny to tell him what they needed of him to make his enrollment to the school official.