Aurion's head came back just a little bit at the dog actually attacked the broom handle. He had not expected it. Opening his mouth to say something, he stopped before a sound could be made when he heard Alma chuckling. He gave her a one sided grin, chuckling a bit himself. Stifling the laugh when he noticed that Miles was actually concerned for the dog. "Sorry."

Alma came to his defense which surprised Aurion to some extent. 'So she noticed too huh?' She took the broom then and he didn't even try to resist.

Aurion looked at where the ghost things were then back to Miles' dog. "No. Dog dead, but not dead. Dog no breath. No move either. Eyes glow. Dog not normal. I not hit hard, want see if react." Aurion's tail rose and slipped above Miles and his dog, before the fit patted the dog's side softly.

Looking to Alma. "What you mean 'means'? Where you from?" Aurion was interested. He wasn't the best talker around, but if Alma could bring someone, or something down on Sanc while looking for her, it would be best if they knew about it. At least the Order, just in case. Depending on what it was, something could maybe be done to stop it.

This was unexpected. He thought Alma would have some sympathy for his poor dog but, oh yeah... he wasn't a 'poor dog' anymore. He didn't whine, didn't play, didn't make people want to come close and pet him and he was scary looking. Still, that didn't make Aurion's actions right.

She actually laughed about it when it happened and mumbled something in french but the only thing he understood was 'discipline rigorous' and he figured she was having a stab at his earlier comment. Then she flat out told him what she thought of Tinaker. He was 'eerie' yes, and there were reasons for that. Better not tell them anything, they had no reason whatsoever to know the dark truth and the less people who knew about it the better, so he decided he'd never tell them his dogs were...

>> "Dog dead, but not dead"

Aw, maaan!

Aurion was far more observant than he seemed. You'd think his speech was an indication of a slow mind, but maybe it was just an indication of a clumsy tongue while his wits were quite sharp and attentive. He apologized in a way, explained his motives and then caressed the dog on the side with his tail, which the dog ignored, sticking faithfully to it's 'stop!' command. There was no way for Miles to know if the dog appreciated the gesture or not and this inability to know his thrall's feelings was one of the things that frustrated Miles the most. How can anyone have any sort of sympathy for an unfeeling creature?

"He reacts" Miles offered as an answer. "But if he was still a normal living dog, then I wouldn't need to be here."

Alma took charge of the cleaning and elucidated a wee bit more on her life, though it was still somewhat cryptic. Miles stayed crouched next to his dog trying to understand what she was talking about. She didn't seem to have had a normal home or life and her only option was to escape, but her departure had been... problematic? Aurion asked her where she was from but Miles went a bit further.

"What kind of problem?" he asked, without really thinking that maybe this was none of his freaking business.

Alma was sweeping as the boys conversed about the dog, remaining politely out of the conversation. If the attention was detracted from her long enough, maybe she could make some progress on cleaning. Maybe they’d just ignore her for a time.

Back home, cryptic answers were ignored, but apparently the residents of the Sanctuary were more perceptive, and shamelessly nosier.

>> "What you mean 'means'? Where you from?"

“An airplane,” Alma clarified. Her English was also a little too clipped, a little jumbled yet formal, so descriptors were not her strong point, “A one-way ticket to New York City, from… Canada. Small town.”

There were plenty of those in Quebec, and even more within Canada as a whole. Alma swept a large pile of debris into a dust pan, then bent down, retrieved it, and dumped the trash into a garbage can. She was a quick and efficient cleaner. The room would be swept, scrubbed, and spotless in no time.

>> "What kind of problem?"

“Pulling a disappearing act,” Alma explained, “When you have nowhere to go, and no way to get there. No one physically there to help you. But, I did it.”

Her stomach twinged where the scar was, and Alma winced faintly, but made no motion to touch her stomach. They were digging for details, and she was doing her best not to give too many of them. But would keeping her mouth shut be for the better, or would it land her on the streets.

“Let us just say…” she trailed, “…that there are people who do not like what I am, and they’d rather me be… well… human or dead. It was a mess. And I needed to get out of there quickly.”

Alma needed to build trust with them, she had decided, but it was also too unsafe to allow them to be too close. She had to play her cards right. Alma gathered up another pile of debris, deposited it into the garbage can, and continued working.

"Gnnnn.." It was an odd sound coming from the giant lizard mutant. He wasn't really sure what to say to the woman. He was sure she was holding back, and that was fine, it's her life, and her story and whatnot. Aurion just felt that there was more too it. Maybe he was just feeling very curious towards it for some reason. Looking at Miles, and he didn't get any help there. The boy was interested as well, but Aurion had a suspicion the subject matter wasn't what interested him.

Crouching down, Aurion rested his elbows on his knees and put his chin in his palm. Tapping the claws of his free hand against his forearm, he flicked his tongue out a few times. "...Rather me be… well… human or dead." That's what she had said....

"Mutants." He said softly before looking at her. "Other mutants. That who you run from. Why want you dead? What wrong with you?" That last bit he asked very confused. He couldn't see anything wrong with her, besides her ghost things, but that could be overlooked. Not all mutations are easy to deal with. "You think they follow here?"

While Miles eyes might have been... well, ogling at her at times, he was trying to keep his mind busy by paying attention to what she was saying. There were certain similarities between them, but in this regard... they were thoroughly different.

She ran away as well, yes, but because her life was in danger. Miles' father never intended to hurt him at all, but different people take mutation in different ways. Some want to get rid of it, like Miles father, while others take it a step further and just want... to get rid of you.

Aurion crouched to a height where the teenager could actually see his eyes at a proper level and they were scary to say the least. Yellow irises over a sea of dark, questioning her about her mutant persecutors...

Wait a second. Mutants?

"No" Miles corrected the reptilian giant. "No, she means humans."

The boy was pretty much still untouched by most of the mutant/human back and forth fighting and hating. Once he found out he was a mutant, he had read about the subject and the registration act they had tried to pass and all that ancient history that didn't concern him in the least before his gene kicked in. That was all he had lived through though, just words on paper and old videos. He had never experienced true hatred or bigotry from anyone just yet, most likely because he didn't look like the poster images people had of mutants, like Aurion did. His dogs were the only tell tale sign of his condition and they were scary enough to keep the random bigot away.

Apparently, Alma's bigots were made of sterner stuff.

"Can't say I know what you're going through but I guess that's why they call this place Sanctuary. You're with mutants now and we help each other out..." he said as he turned his gaze back to Aurion, remembering the thwap on the head he gave his dog. "Sometimes" he added.

Following the line of questioning Aurion had started, Miles was less concerned with the why's and the what's than he was with he who's. "Just how dangerous are these people? Are they the sign carrying, protest holding sort or the... 'take action' sort?

The dark-haired beauty paused to survey the floor. Most broken bits of ceramics had been swept up off of the floor and discarded, while the survivors of the wreckage had been set on the counter. The next item on the agenda would be washing the felled silverware and dishes that hadn’t been shattered in the storm.

Aurion seemed to groan and hunkered down pensively, and Alma quirked a smile. It was a very human look of confusion that he bore, spare the tongue. He came to a conclusion, and it was the wrong one. He thought she was running from mutants.

Miles managed to correct the reptilian man before Alma can, so she chimed-in after.

“I’m not afraid of mutants,” Alma replied, a mirthful glimmer flickering through her gaze, “Generally speaking. Unless dark kitchens and sneaking are involved.”

No, her dilemma was quite human in nature, unless you lumped her mutation in as either the source or accelerant of the problem. Miles reassured her, but continued his inquiries.

“Worse than sign people,” Alma pondered, “But no concern to us, I think. They are like… hn, angry children. Disappearing should be sufficient means by which to dodge any actions taken. They are like angry little children, in the scheme of things. Small potatoes.”

Nothing compared to some of the men that found employment with her uncle, that was for sure. If her friends had been professionals, then there would have been cause for alarm. Alma would have gone for a country that was not adjacent to her home-country. Somewhere with French or Spanish as a primary language.

Aurion looked at them both and shrugged. Other mutants were one thing, could be an issue if they did follow Alma or whatever. It could get messy, in a not so fun or good way. Human on the other hand. He sighed. Humans were small fry, uninteresting, simple...They weren't worth dealing with for the most part. But dealing with them could be messy, in a good'n bloody way. Aurion smirked with a "Hehe." to himself.

Furrowing his brows he looked at Alma. His tone slightly skeptical. "Humans no want mutants be human. Just dead. I no mind return favor."

Looking at Miles. "Dog okay. Not hurt." Standing up, "Not like I hurt you." He stuck his serpentine tongue out at Miles. " 'Sides, if person try hurt you outside Sanc, I no mind stop'n hurt'em. Teach good lesson, no?"

Aurion moved towards the large fridge. Opening the door he tilted his head to the side. "Ah!" He exclaimed when he saw the plate towards the back. Grabbing it he turned away from the fridge to face Alma. "I try make noise next time." He rubbed his head with his free hand. "No want bowl hit me again."

On the plate were two chicken breasts, two pork chops, and two steaks. Stabbing one of the chicken breasts with a claw he took a bite, slicing a chuck from it with his teeth. Aurion held the plate towards Alma then to Miles. "Want?" He asked as he took another large chunk of chicken into his mouth.

Alma diminished the importance of her pursuers to small potatoes... who somehow managed to get her to flee, so Miles wasn't sure how small these potatoes were, children or not. Aurion also dismissed them as a nuisance, mostly based on the fact that they were humans, but in Miles' eyes, a human with enough guts, determination and a good weapon behind him could be dangerous to pretty much anyone, mutant or otherwise.

"Just make sure that if you see them, you'll let us know. I figure the most dangerous thing between average humans and mutant haters is that they all look the same."

The reptilian rose, all seven feet tall of scales and muscle on him and his words made Miles feel safe... and scared at the same time. Aurion seemed like the sort that would stick for his kind, would stand and defend his fellow mutants... and kill whatever human crossed his way, middle ground be damned. Those claws and fangs were not made for gentle tapping on the shoulders or stern warnings and diplomacy did not seem like his forte at all.

"I bet you'd teach them a good lesson, all right. The whole point of teaching a lesson though is for them to learn not make the same mistake... next time" he said, trying to suggest that leaving them alive sometimes had its merits.

Miles had to admit however, that he understood the reptilian fellow and his human-averse disposition. Who wouldn't? He was scary looking and people tended to judge others by their appearance first, but once you got to know the guy a little, you'd notice he could do pretty normal things, like...

...Digging chicken, steaks and pork chops out of the fridge for all of them to eat.

Yum!

He didn't know how late it was and the slices were too large for a midnight snack, but he'd been up long enough to work a bit of an appetite. There was still some stuff on the table from the mess Alma's ghosts made, but nothing he couldn't just push away as he pulled a chair and sat on it, elbows on the table and looking at the plate. Aurion asked if they wanted any.

"Don't mind if I do!" he replied, but then cringed at seeing him eat it cold and raw. "But I'd rather eat it cooked, not right out of the fridge."

His eyes intinctively went to Alma. They were almost doe-like and supplicant. Just a while back, Miles had managed to get sweet Gina to cook him some chicken back at the mansion, so maybe his facial expression of total uselessness could get Alma to do the same?

Alma smiled knowingly as the reptilian man retorted that humans only wanted mutants dead. It was oddly reassuring, to have a guy as impressive as Aurion guaranteeing that he'd return the favor, should any lowly human attempt to kill or hurt them outside of the walls of the Sanctuary. Most would have chuckled uneasily, maybe dismissed themselves, at the promise, but given her uprbrining, Alma was more comfortable around such an uneasy subject. At least, that is, in regards to mutants-against-humans. It was a sad fact of gang life, but thus gang life was.

"I am genuinely sorry," Alma reiterated as Aurion balefully rubbed his head. Aurion offered the two leftover meat, to which Alma held up a polite hand, and quietly dismissed herself with a, "I am a touch picky when it comes to food. However, thank you."

Alma didn't know fear of mutants, given her family-- but the point that Miles begged was a valid one. The people you had to be careful of were the human mutant-haters. In a way that would be conventionally backwards, she did fear Aurion-- she feared her friends, but she was also confident that, as they were not a big-time gang, they wouldn't find her. Hopefully.

"My pursuers wouldn't learn," Alma muttered to herself, almost under her breath, as Miles went on to explain that you had to be alive to learn lessons. She flicked the sink on, allowing the water to gush as it slowly warmed, and she caught Miles's pleading stare. She was supposed to cook and clean the dishes?

"Can't rely on a girl for everything," Alma laughed. She had to clean the kitchen, she didn't have time to cook, not right now, "I'll tell you how to cook it, but beyond that, it should be easy enough for a smart guy like you to figure out."

That's it, charm the boy into cooking for himself. Alma plugged-up the sink and tipped the dishes in, before going to grab the dish soap out from under it. After squirting a generous amount of dish soap into the water, the sink gradually filled itself with suds. She pushed the nozzle to the other side of the sink, fished out a sponge, and began washing. They weren't really "dirty" from use, but it'd still be a good idea to get any potential germs from the floor off of them.

Aurion shook his head at Alma, smiling. "It ok. I more surprise than hurt." Needle-like, serrated, triangular teeth sheered off another large chunk of chicken. Again he didn't bother to chew, just swallowing it whole. "Ghosts good aim." Absently he asked, "What you mean picky? No eat meat?"

With another finger on the same hand, he stabbed a steak and bit a chunk of that off as well. Miles had a point, albeit a small point. The person being taught the lesson needed to be alive to learn it. "You right Miles." Then he took a bite from both of them at once. "What if lesson not for human killed? What if lesson for humans not killed?" Aurion set the plate on the counter near the stove then turned to Miles. "If you human. You have friends, all hate mutants. I kill you," Aurion held a clawed finger at Miles, without touching him he quickly drew the claw across the neck then snapped his fingers loudly. "Kill quick, easy. Who want fight next? Kill two, four, just as quick, or faster. You want fight then?"

Shaking his head he backed away to look at Alma while he tried to shoo Miles towards the stove. "Make own food," He chuckled. "I not cook, no have to. Make it easy."

Maybe Miles was a bit naive. Maybe he still saw good in people because he had never been chased away by mutant haters or because no one had ever judged him by his looks and maybe that's why he held to his guns, but he liked to believe there were good, solid reasons behind his thinking.

Aurion's 'lesson' was one of example using fear, which he seemed to be pretty good at delivering, since the boy swallowed hard when he felt the claw pass so closely to his neck. He still disagreed with what the giant said, though.

"What makes you think it's going to stop at four? Violence engenders violence and if you kill people, then they're going to try to put you down. If their weapons didn't work, they'll bring bigger weapons next time. If you think killing them thins them down, then you're wrong, it actually makes them stronger, since you're giving other people a reason to join up on the hunt. They'll be so afraid of you they'll want you out of the picture one way or the other. There is one deterrent against fear and it's a resource they have plenty of..." he said, pointing outside with his thumb. "They have numbers."

Miles puppy eyes failed to deliver where Alma was concerned. However, she said something that was music to his ears.

>> It should be easy enough for a smart guy like you to figure out.

He blushed. Deep red. His thoughts were in conflict though, since it was his mother who did the cooking around the house and who actively kicked his son out of the kitchen whenever he was nagging or making himself a nuisance in there, so he never grew up with the slightest intention of ever learning how to cook. He couldn't care less what the difference between frying and broiling was or what were the necessary steps to prepare a good steak. He was being shooed to the stove now and he got up half heartedly, about to pass on the offer when he mentally pictured Alma giving him cooking lessons. He imagined her standing closely behind him, her head over his shoulder supervising the whole thing, her breasts pressing on his back as she showed him how to hold and handle a frying pan...

His disposition immediately changed.

"Sure, I'll give it a shot! Boy oh boy, I've always wanted to learn how to cook! Where do we start?"

Alma glanced over her shoulder, flashing a smile back, before turning her attention to Aurion, and continuing with scrubbing the dishes down.

“Thanks,” Alma mumbled, “Apparently, throwing things at people are amongst the things that they can do right.” The bodachs were meandering back into the kitchen, milling around Aurion and Miles absently on their way to go see their mistress. Neither they nor Alma paid any heed to the discussion of semantics.

Aurion announced that he didn’t have to cook his food as Miles was coerced into approaching the stove. Alma’s small comment earned a luminous blush from the young man, however, and the woman allowed herself to grin as the boy, at first shuffling towards the stove, suddenly lit-up excitedly.

>> "Sure, I'll give it a shot! Boy oh boy, I've always wanted to learn how to cook! Where do we start?"

Alma glanced at Aurion, an eyebrow quirked knowingly, before glancing back at Miles.

“First, you need a frying pan,” Alma said simply, “And a spatula-“ she looked in the sink, briefly, to see if they were amongst the fallen dishes, “-They should still be in the cabinet. They aren’t amongst the dishes that received lessons in flight.”

Beyond that, Alma didn’t know where they would be.

Aurion listened to the boy, countering what Aurion had said, telling why he thought Aurion was wrong. And Aurion found himself agreeing, at least in part. "True." They did have the advantage of numbers. "Humans be mostly scared. Take out leader, then scatter. Humans are cowards." That was also true. Unless the combined force was very large or very disciplined it really was only as strong as its leaders. "But lots'n lots humans be problem yes." He really hadn't expected Miles to counter him so easily, and with his broken speech, Aurion really didn't feel like trying to counter Miles' rebuttal, it was too frustrating and too much work and effort for little payoff. So he dropped it, conceding to the boy.

Watching the ghost things he tried to poke one and it seemed to fade away to intangibility before he reached it. That really did make them seem like ghosts. It didn't react to him even though he moved his hand in it's way. But they could still do stuff, like throw things. 'Like poltergeists.' An inaudible chuckle came from Aurion as he remembered that movie, he had been scared witless. He couldn't remember where he had seen it, because he was sure it wasn't at ho- He cut that train of thought off and looked at Alma.

He caught the quick glance she threw his way as Miles, more enthusiastic than Aurion could understand, went to cook for himself. He nodded to Alma trying to say, 'Nice job' without words.

Aurion thought about watching Miles and trying to remember what Alma told him to do, but he didn't figure he would need to cook anything for quite some time, if ever. Before Sanctuary, the only time he had cooked anything in seven years was in winter, and that wasn't even to cook it, just to heat it up because he preferred the food he ate to be hot. "What you eat?" He directed the question to Alma. "You say you picky. What mean?"

Aurion conceded.

That was kinda cheating.

You just don't do that. You don't get people all riled up, make their brains think points and counterpoints, hypothetical situations, potential solutions and problems and then concede before they can incessantly bleat pointless arguments this way and that. Arguing wasn't half as fun when the other person agreed you were right, so Miles simply nodded pretending he was content with the outcome and swallowed the next wave of opinions already formed in his head. Because, really, numbers was everything and humans had it in spades. No matter how powerful a single mutant was, an organized defense... anyway! Point dropped!

He was now in front of the stove, this... magical device that turned frozen foods into delicious things. Old memories of a large woman's hand slapping his much smaller one and going "NO!" made an appearance in his head, but he was now old and responsible enough to, you know, not play with the burners or mess with burning oil.

"Frying pan and... spatula, got it..." he said, as he opened drawers and the clashing sound of metal against metal and wood ringed throughout the kitchen. He found a pan. Now to find a spatula.

Spatula.... spatula... Okay, how could he hide the fact that he didn't have a clue what a spatula was and still not look like a total ignorant? Maybe moving his hand on top of all the kitchen utensils and hoping Alma went "It's right there, grab it!" would work? Better to seem blind that to seem stupid. He was still trying on his own though, looking for something that looked like a giant spoon with little legs because the word spatula sorta sounded like a mix of spoon + tarantula.

"Found it!" he said, as he grabbed the spatula by the handle, pulled it out of the drawer and closed it noisily. He placed the pan on the burner (without turning it on), moved the bowl with the meat closer to him and readied himself to cook. He tried to get the meat out with his spatula but...

... all right, something just didn't make sense here.

It was interesting to hear the differing opinions of the two mutants—one, older and visibly mutated, who had probably had his fair share of encounters with humans. Even despite his broken speech, Aurion seemed to have a somewhat shrewd mind when it came to the mob mentality of frightened humans. They exchanged a glances and Alma quirked a smile as Aurion nodded his head. Boys who were so eager to please were simply adorable.

>> "What you eat? You say you picky. What mean?"

“It’s hard to explain,” Alma said, her voice trailing as if she were searching for the words to explain, “But… I like healthy food. Clean food that will not rot your insides.”

Alma turned her attention to Miles as he went towards the stove, watching him as a teacher might watch a student. She patiently waited as Miles found a pan. Alright, maybe he was not totally hopeless—at least he knew what a frying pan was.

But Alma was getting her hopes up too soon—for, in his quest to find a spatula, Miles had somehow found a slotted spoon, which he proclaimed to be “spatula” from this day forth. Alma smiled uncertainly, and then coughed back a giggle. She rubbed her face, as if to silently say, “Oh my God,” before her hand moved to her mouth in disbelief. Boys.

A giggles escaped her when Miles eagerly went about placing the pan on the stove, pulling the meat closer and standing with the spoon in-hand. He was ready to go. Well… psychologically, at least. Alma moved towards the stove, and towards Miles as well. She took the spoon gently from his hand.

“You are very close,” Alma said patiently, holding up the spoon as she spoke, “This… is a slotted spoon. You use it for noodles. Spaghetti, that kind of thing.” The young woman slid the drawer open again, nudging the utensils about with a discerning hand until she found a spatula. Alma fished it out and held it up for Miles to see. She spun it slightly, as if to showcase the flat planes and similar slots, “This… is a spatula. You use it when you use a pan, usually. For when you fry things.”

Alma offered the spatula to Miles, bumping the drawer shut with her hip.

“Now that you have the tools, the first thing you need to do is turn the stove on,” Alma explained. She’d let Miles try, first, then interject if she had to. Alma leaned against the counter beside where Miles was about to start cooking, facing Aurion.

“You’re a big guy,” Alma commented offhandedly, “How much do you eat, would you say? You look like you eat well enough…”

She imagined that a guy as tall as him would have to eat a good deal to look as well as he did. Not fat, by any means, but cut. And he easily surpassed six feet.