A person with normal, unleashed, big dogs might have trouble leaving them outside a restaurant with the scent of its delicious goods wafting in the air, making the dogs dance around, wag their tails, salivate and even bark and whine for their master once he was inside. Not so with Miles. Having zombie slave dogs has it's perks.

The moment they approached the door, he pushed it open for Stokely. It might have seemed like he was a being chivalrous, but the truth behind it was he was freezing and hungry, so he darted ahead of her when they were crossing the road as he couldn't wait to get inside. Once they both entered, he just casually said "stay" to his dogs and they both sat on their haunches near the door and stayed there, staring at him. He then ignored them completely and walked further inside. It was that easy. Miles wasn't that good at trying to hide the fact his dogs behaved in uncommon ways.

The old man with the mustache got a little startled at Stokely's appearance, so Miles waved a hand and shook his head a little trying to convey her wounds weren't that serious. She ordered the chicken wrap and told him dinner was on her, a token of her gratitude for his kick.

"I played soccer back at home, in my school" he explained, smiling and nodding in return, with a hint of relief in his face for not having to pay. "Kicking balls? It's second nature for me" he added as a joke as he pointed at the menu on the wall.

"Double cheeseburger, coke and fries to go" he ordered for his meal. At fifteen, he couldn't give a crap about his cholesterol level.

Miles left the dogs outside and they just sat there, like they didn't have own desires to do anything. They seemed to obey the boy in very specific way.

When he told about his soccer hobby and about kicking balls Stokes couldn't help but to give a grin.
"I can see that", his second nature, oh how fitting, usually men used to kick football with each other, not each other's balls with a foot, but oh well... There was nothing to complain about!

Miles ordered his meal and mustache-man added those too on the cash registry. Man looked at Stokely like asking if they wanted more.
"That's all", she established and pulled her wallet from pocket which was on the inner side of her leather jacket. Stokely was very heedful to not get her wallet stolen, and it was easier to steal from pockets which were visible, than those which weren't.
Mustache-man announced the price and Stokes opened her wallet which had quite a large amount of paper money in it. She gave the man proper amount of money, took the change, put it in her wallet and hid it to the secret pocket again. Man holded out the receipt but Stokes did waving-like move with her palm as a sign that she didn't need it.
"Do you eat here or..?"
"Nope, we'll take-out"
"Okay, just a minute!" man smiled like a cat and walked to the door to backroom which was also a kitchen. He said something and then another man came and took a piece of paper from mustache-man which probably had order on it and the mysterious other one backed to the kitchen to get it done.

There wasn't other customers so it should not take long until the food they ordered would arrive, but Stokely decided she didn't want to stand that time so she walked to the nearest table and sat on wooden seat slowly, being careful not to hurt herself too much. She kept her injured leg straighten out since bending it felt very nasty.
"I hope this place has some quality. I gotta be honest I've never bought anything from here before", she said and looked at Miles. Bitewounds on her thigh felt awful but she tried to not think about the pain.
She shifted her eyes towards the front door. The dogs were still sitting there, right? If they were it would be absolutely sure that there wouldn't be more customers before they'd leave.

"I don't see why it shouldn't have it" Miles said as he sat opposite to Stokely. The place was clean, well kept, had decent service and they'd soon find out how fast was their fast food. "It's curious that you live right in front of it and have never dropped by before."

Miles noticed Stokely's unbent leg and wondered just how badly beaten the girl was. It was a tad uncomfortable to sit with her while she still had blood on her face. Moustache man said nothing about it and pretended to ignore the whole issue but for any strangers just witnessing their arrival, the painted scene in their minds might have been quite skewed. Meaning, she was limping and bloodied and there were two black hellhoundish dogs waiting outside like statues for them.

She didn't complain about her pain and that was remarkable, but her looks could have a bit of improvement while they waited at least. The boy got up from the table, went to pick up several napkins and poured himself a glass of water. He then returned with napkins and water and put them all on Stokely's side of the table.

"Wipe yourself a little at least" he said as he looked and studied her face, pointing at different parts of her cheeks and neck. "You have some blood here, there and there and whoever sees us will think my dogs did this to you. It's very difficult for them to look like innocent pups."

He didn't want to press the issue since he had already surmissed Stokely was a touch chick who kind of preferred to bottle things up inside, but even tough girls might feel angry at what had just happened to them. Granted, a fifteen year old might not be the right ears to listen about drunk men beating on women but he didn't have any older ears to spare. Still, he tried to leave the door open just in case she felt like venting and talking about it.

"You can trust me and tell me anything you need to tell me, all right?" he offered as he folded one of the napkins and dipped it a bit on the water, giving it back to Stokely for her to handle. "I won't judge and I'm quite good at listenening."

"Well I don't usually eat in restaurants", Stokely said like it was one of the most normal things in world. "I like to be a little more...creative. Eating in restaurants just ain't my thing."
It was the truth. She didn't enjoy restaurant food as much as the stuff she cooked by herself. And she wasn't much a people person. Other people usually didn't need to do more than look at her wrong way a to make her pissed. And being irritated all the time wasn't very healthy.

Since they were about to get going soon Stokes didn't find it necessary to go clean the blood stains away. Why bother, she could do it at her home.
Miles seemed to have different opinion over that since he stood up and went to get serviettes which he put on the table, on her side. She once again felt sting of irritation inside her head and it was visible in the way she glanced at him. Did he really have to do that? But then she just lowered her look on the pieces of paper on the table, and once Miles started to point out places of blood stains, again she catched him in her grey eyes for a while.
She had a stubborn look on her, that kind of which you see when someone strictly refuses from doing something troublesome. But after a little while she snorted and rolled her eyes.
"Fine", she quibbled and took one of the napkins and gently stroked it against her cheek where Miles had pointed and kept her eyes now on the floor.

It was true that his dogs could get blaimed about her wounds. Miles seemed to be worried, and strangely tend. And it felt somewhat annoying. Did she look like she couldn't take care of herself or what? It had been fine that Miles had arrived with his hellhounds to cause the fatty a heart attack, but was this really necessary? It almost felt like she was getting mocked when a boy who seemed alot younger than her was trying to help her so much.

She looked at the paper which had got smudged in crimson as she listened Miles who told her she could trust him, and that if she felt like talking she could tell him anything.
As Miles handed over a napkin he had moistened in water, Stokely crumpled the bloody one she had in her hand and dropped it on the pile of papers, and she took the one Miles was offering to her.

"Well there's one thing I'd like to discuss about with you once we get to my place", she said as she pressed the moist piece of paper against her skin, rubbing the blood off, and met Miles's dark brown eyes with her greyish ones.
"But you must to stop worrying that way, right now. It's starting to piss me off a little you know", Stokely announced and gave a quick, one-sided smirk before she took a look at the napkin, folding it to get clean side of it and continued cleaning up. It would've been much easier if there was a mirror.

Mustache-man had arrived behind the counter once again and he seemed to be minding about his own business, actually he seemed to be filling crosswords on some sort of magazine.

Stokely didn't look at Miles the way you'd expect from a girl who's been hurt and is being offered help. Quite the opposite in fact, to the point he felt like he had touched a nerve, or more like he had trampled on it. She accepted the napkins and started wiping herself only because his point about the dogs wrongfully taking the blame was valid, but she did so begrudgingly.

She cleaned most of her bloodstains off, at least those that were visible, which improved her face remarkably and the pile of bloodied napkins was starting to look gross on the table, enough to make someone lose his appetite, but not Miles. He wanted to be a doctor someday, so he wasn't queasy about blood and keeping that mindful, helpful aura Stokely disliked was actually ingrained in him. He'd have to make a conscious effort not to show her that 'let me look after you' face he had been giving her for most of the night. She'd just told him flat out it was starting to piss her off.

"Fine, fine" Miles answered, raising his palms for her to see as a way of apology and letting her know he was dropping the subject. "I'm just concerned, that's all, but if you don't want me to worry, I won't" the boy added. He then started picking the napkins off, crumpling them together and then he got up once more, this time heading for the trashcan. He tossed the pile of napkins inside it and gave the moustache man an inquiring 'where's our food?' look as he passed him by back to his seat.

"By the way, I'm willing to discuss anything" the boy said cheerfully as he sat back down and stared at her grey eyes as he tried to make small talk. "I kind of trust you. You're not exactly the most charming person I've met, but I feel like you're honest and to the point. Kinda blunt even, if you don't mind me saying. Where are you from?" he asked, trying to keep his mind from wondering how much blood she had lost. She had just wiped her face, who knew how bad the rest of her body was but... ZIP IT and keep it to yourself Miles!

Gladly Miles seemed to get it, that she wasn't in need of being taken care of. She was stubborn enough to reject helping hand even if she had broken bones, and damn if Miles had been older Stokely would have probably snapped already and urged him to get away from her sight. But she kinda forgave Miles a bit.
"Well I told you this already; I'm fine. These are just scratches, not a big deal", Stokes convinced. Well they were a little more than just scratches, but Stokely had been injured so many times in fight ring she had almost got used to it. And maybe that's why she didn't even think that bloody pile of paper - which Miles had taken to trashcan - was actually pretty unfascinating sight. But at least she probably didn't look like an actor who's escaped from horror film cuts anymore. Or at least as much as a while ago...right?

When Miles had got back to his seat and started talking about what he thought about her, Stokely raised her eyebrows looking a little surprised. Okay, so she was uncharming and blunt person? Thanks, that was the sweetest thing I've ever heard! But at least Miles didn't embellish stuff and was honest. To be honest Stokely didn't take it as an insult, she was actually a little amused. Miles had to be glad Stokely wasn't on the worst mood.
"I'm from the rain city; Seattle", Stokes answered the question truthfully.
"And you?"
Really she wasn't so interested in Miles's backgrounds, she would've wanted to ask about the dogs, but there was not enough privacy to do such a thing.

And then a man from kitchen arrived and brought a large paper bag to them which had thing they had ordered inside. Now to think of it he looked like Turkish, younger than the mustache-man behind the counter. "Finally", Stokes blurted.
"Here's your double cheeseburger, fries, coke and chicken wrap. Sorry for your wait", he said with an accent, smiled a little and left the paper bag on the table, and then turned to walk back to kitchen where he belonged.

Stokely gave miles a look of shall we?, and then leaned on the table with her hand to help herself to get up with that annoying, painful piece of s*it leg. It had been alot easier to sit down than to get up, but she managed to get up pretty safely with just one grimace and hiss between her teeth once she straightened herself up.
"Okay ball-boy, I paid it - you carry it", Stokely said with tense voice. After sitting for a while the wound on her leg felt even more nasty. She limped towards the door and pushed the door open. Two black hounds were still sitting where Miles had left them. Still they looked creepy as hell, but Stokes didn't stare at them for too long, but started to cross the street to get to the doorway to the stairway where they'd get to her home. Water drops were falling from the sky once again.

Stokely pulled her keys from the pocket of her black jeans and once she got to the door, she pushed the key in lock and opened the door quickly, pulling her key out from the lock. It would be absolutely irritating if she'd even get cold today! She held the door open so Miles could enter the dark stairway which echoed their steps, the crumbling sound from paper bag and all the other little things.
Stokely gave light tap on the switch on wall and...let there be light! White walls and black stairs, no windows what so ever.
She gave frustrated sigh before starting climbing the steps up. With sore leg it was one of the most s*ittiest things on Earth. She couldn't go forwards very fast, but it wouldn't take forever to get up. The second floor, the floor that had the door to her apartment.

Once in second floor she used her keys once again on the door which said 'Halleraker' on the mail slot. She left the door open for Miles and stepped in to her not-so-large apartment, pressing the light switch on. White walls, yeah, and laminate floor. There was a few newspapers on the entry's floor but Stokes didn't care about them. She took off her army boots and left them near the door.
"Make yourself at home", she said and limped further in apartment, there was black couch almost in the center of the room, and infront of it was coffee table. A few magazines and newspapers on it, too, but it wasn't a big deal. There was also a small tv on a small table near the wall. A few bureaus were next the wall.
At the right corner of the room was a white folding screen with black leaves painted on it, and at the other side of it was her bed which was rather wide. There was a laptop on it. A door to bathroom was near the front door of her flat, and at the left side of the room was an open doorway to kitchenette.
Her apartment was not like president's castle, but it was decent and clean. And she even had three windows, each had dark colored curtains in them. There was no pictures, paintings or even posters on the walls. She didn't have too much furniture, not even dining table, but she didn't need much.

She took off her leather jacket and left it on the back rest of the couch, and she did the same thing to her hoodie. She had a slightly too big, black and gray colored t-shirt under them.
"I'll check my injuries quickly, you can sit on the couch or where ever you want and start eating", Stokely said and limped to the bathroom, and locked it's door. It was great to be at home after this arsehole-day.

"Virginia Beach. City of... beaches, I guess?" he replied when Stokely asked him right back where he was from. "You're a long way from home" he added.

Miles was about to start talking about his home town and the weather and what have you, but the food arrived before he could begin boring Stokes to death. She urged him to get up and leave with a look but as soon as she started to get up herself, he gritted his teeth and fought his immediate impulse to spring in front of her and lend a hand, knowing full well she was likely to swat it away like a dead rat. He just got up and waited for her to stand up on her own. She did hand him over the bags though, which he accepted gladly. Oh, the smell coming out of it made him salivate and carrying the bags close to him was better than having a warm sweater, though what they had to walk in the cold was not much anymore.

She lived in an apartment building right across the street, just like she'd said and the moment the teenager saw the stairs, he gritted his teeth even harder, to the point where he even looked away as Stokely sighed and grunted her way up the first few steps. He then followed her slowly with both dogs behind him, counting the steps to keep his mind busy and keeping his mouth shut, not even giving her words of encouragement. He was sure if he went 'come on, you can do this, take oooone more step... then anoooother...' she was likely to kick him down the stairs as soon as they reached the top. He couldn't even help push her up. She was using her hands on the hand rails to climb up and her back was bent forward as she trudged on, so the only surface he could use to push was her butt. Surely that area was off limits, unless he wanted his own balls kicked up his esophagus, fatman style.

Luckily, she didn't live in the penthouse. She was fumbling for her keys the moment they reached the second floor which made Miles give a sigh of relief, even if he wasn't the one with the wounded leg. Her last name was Halleraker and her apartment was small yet tidy and black and white-ish so to speak. Black furniture and curtains, white walls, but most importantly, warm. She took off her leather jacket and Miles sat right next to it on the couch as he started opening his bag of Cheeseburger heaven. Her big t-shirt didn't show any extra wounds and he didn't manage to see any of them really, before she left to the bathroom to clean herself up.

Miles bit on his burger and looked around from his seat. You could surmise a lot from a person by the way they lived and in Stokely's case, she really wasn't into having pictures of friends or family or even paintings. The only painted thing in the entire room was the folding screen and even the leaves on it were black. Not much into color, this one. His dogs seemed to fit right in with the decor as they sat next to the door, not even bothering to beg for a bit of meat.

What an odd pair they made. MIles was the king of being evasive, specially regarding his mutation, while she was direct and straighforward in everything she said. He was polite and always tried to be politically correct, while she didn't mind cussing one bit. If he had been wounded the way she had been, he'd probably be yowling all the way to the hospital, while she had managed to climb those stairs on her own. They were polar opposites in so many ways and yet... here they were, helping each other out.

He felt tempted to ask if she needed anything but he figured he'd get the "F" word in return if he phrased it that way, so he opted for another route.

"My soda is big enough for the both of us if you want some. Also, I've got lots of minutes on my phone if you want to call anyone... and I can warm your chicken wrap up if you're going to take a while..."

Hopefully that covered any 'anythings' from 'do you need anything?'

Stokely looked at herself from the mirrored cabinet which was on the wall, right above white porcelain sink. Still some blood stains were on her face and neck. She moved her hair away from where she felt the wound on her head, near hairline. It wasn't bleeding anymore, and there was a nasty scab on it. Dryed blood on her hair and all. At least she got paid well from fights because she was good at kicking doggy-arses.
Stokes kept part of her attention in livingroom where Miles was, just to listen what he was doing there. And then the boy started to show signs of his need to do something for her, with the words he spoke.
"Nah, I don't need anything. Plus I prefer water...or a beer", she said as she looked at the wound from mirror.

She opened the buckle of her belt, unzipped her jeans and pulled them lower to see the injury on her leg better. And damn it felt horrible, she couldn't get them much lower since blood and the wounds had partly dried and sticked on the cloth of her jeans. It would rip the wounds once again when taking the cloth off, it actually felt like her jeans were glued on those bitemarks with superglue. She squeezed her eyes close and held her breath to keep it quiet as she quickly pulled them off, and after just a little while she couldn't keep it that quiet anymore.
"F*CK!" an incontinent shriek of frustrating pain which she was able to cut off short.
"I fucking hate this day", she murmured. Now that the wounds were bleeding again she took her jeans completely off and kicked them on the floor, took a large bottle of anticeptic liquid, cotton pads and gauze wrap from the mirror closet, and sat down on the plastic shower bench. She was still suffering from stinging and burning pain on her thigh which was now bleeding again.
She opened the anticeptic bottle and poured large amount of it on the wounds with tense expression on her face. Some of the liquid dipped on the floor, and the wounds were smarting like hell as the liquid got into them - like she would've been pouring acid on them.
After that she started pressing cotton pads on the wounds to prevent them from bleeding. There was two ugly wounds from the lower and upper sets of canine teeth on her left thigh. After that she just wrapped the gauze around her thigh so it would keep the cotton pads on their places and cover the wounds up.

Then she got up, and rinsed her face with water and used towel to wipe most of the water away. She could take care of that smaller wound on her head little later and take a look if she had any scratches on her back.
Finally she walked out from the bathroom, with just t-shirt and hot-pants on, not caring about Miles's reaction on her thinned out outfit. She was at her home - she could wander around completely naked if she wanted. But gladly that wasn't what she was about to do.
"What are your dogs?" she asked frankly as she limped to the kitchenette to get a beer for herself. Wounds were still keeping reminding of themselves by causing pain.
"If you tell me your secret I'll tell you mine", Stokely said as she looked to the fridge. She had to go to buy something to eat tomorrow since fridge didn't have too much content in it, but at least there was one can of beer which she took with her as she returned to the livingroom.

She told him she didn't need anything because she preferred water or beer. If she really didn't want anything, that was the wrong way to say it.

Miles bolted up from the couch leaving his burger and fries on the coffee table and almost sprinted into the kitchenette. It was as if God himself had gone "My thirteenth commandment! Thou shalt offer water or beer to thy host!"

He opened the fridge and only found one can of beer and a water bottle along with very little else. He took the beer... then put it right back. It was the LAST can of beer. You don't just dispense with the last of anything from someone else without their consent. Wait, hold on, it's for her, so he took it again... then put it right back. If she'd rather have water instead of beer, then the beer would be wasted, but if she'd rather have beer, then who the hell cares if water is wasted? Better leave the beer as backup than the water, so Miles picked up a glass, poured some cold water in it, brought it back to the coffee table and placed it next to her wrap, removing the magazines from the table and trying to make some space for the burger, fries, soda, wrap and water. She probably wouldn't mind that he went through the trouble of serving it to her even if...

>> "F*&K!"

You know what? On second thought...

MIles drank the unsolicited water as fast as he could, with some of it even dribbling off the corners of his mouth. He then went back to the kitchenette, put the glass in the sink, then returned and sat in the couch. Then he got up again, returned to the kitchenette, washed the dirty glass, wiped it dry, placed it back where he had found it and returned to the couch once more.

Wuss.

She must have had some trouble patching herself up since she was taking a while and he could smell a hint of antiseptic coming from under the bathroom door. Miles was on the fourth bite of his burger when she came out, with a cleaner and fresh face, a bandage on her leg... and no pants on. She was wearing very tight hotpants that left very little to the imagination.

Hmmm... Okey, what's the best way to handle this and still try to make it look natural?

"The table is a little crowded" he said as he reached for his soda. He sipped a bit from it but instead of returning it to the table, he placed it between his legs, right next to his crotch. There. That way it wouldn't spill, it would hide any bodily reactions from view AND the cold, iced drink would help keep said reactions... down. Three birds with one stone.

>>"What are your dogs?"

What? That came out of the blue. The teenager blinked and stopped chewing as he had been caught woefully unawares and unprepared. Usually, he avoided going into detail regarding his dogs. Their real nature was downright creepy, he didn't like to talk about it and people's view of him could easily change if they knew the truth, so his usual modus operandi was to lie through his teeth, evade, distract or divert with other topics and in the end if they insisted, he'd tell them the dogs were charmed, or that he had found them that way or that... whatever, just as long as the cause for their condition didn't make him look guilty in any way.

>> "If you tell me your secret I'll tell you mine"

Miles felt very tempted to simply riposte 'I'm not interested in your secrets' since he didn't even suspect she had any. His mind backtracked trying to figure out what she meant by it and the only remote possibility of something strange or odd happening with her was how she ended up so bloody and yet the fatman's hands were so clean. Still, that was a mystery he could live without knowing, so he saw no reason whatsoever not to give her the runaround and evade the question like he usually did.

"They're dead dogs. Or something very like it at least" he answered.

WHAT!? Now where did that come from!? Maybe the fact that she was blunt and straightforward was starting to rub off on him, but he couldn't help blurting out the truth. Deep down, he didn't see Stokely as the kind of person who'd freak at it like others would. She was a tough chick who could handle anything. A tough chick in hot pants who could understand undead dogs.

Hopefully.

"I'm not exactly what you'd call... a normal person" he said, slowly reaching for some fries and keeping his eyes on hers to try and figure out how she was taking this (while she had some beer). Was she pro-mutant? Was she anti-mutant? Was she angry at him? Did she still want him in her apartment? It was hard to tell, so he didn't go into detail and kept it vague. "Do you know what I mean by that?"

The answer she got from Miles made her raise her eyebrows, you gotta be f*cking kidding me. Dead dogs? Stokely looked at the two dogs near the door, which just were there, doing nothing. Well they didn't act much like dead dogs normally would. Were they some sort of zombies..? At least they didn't stink rotten or look half-decompose. So...okay. Miles had dead dogs. Okay. Little confusing, yeah. Especially since this was the first time she really encountered something supernatural like that.

She opened her beer can and took a draught of it before walking to couch, still being careful with her leg, sitting on the couch arm as Miles told that he was not what people call 'normal'. Stokely felt weird. Very weird. Did she really have to wait for over twenty years to see with her own eyes that there were others who were not...normal?
"Yeah I... I understand. At least I believe I do", she said, still a little confused, but also...relieved?
"Geez, this is weird", she shook her head a little. "I wasn't expecting to hear any natural reasons for them to be that way but still...wow", Stokes gave a little laugh and once again took a drink from her can, before putting it on the couch table, taking her chicken wrap instead on her hands. And yeah, she still didn't give a damn if Miles felt awkward about her current clothing.

Her chicken wrap was wrapped in foil, so she had to tear some of it off before taking a bite of it. Well, it tasted good. Not a waste of money this time. Stokely looked at Miles again, with one sided smile on her face.
"You know what? Here's actually three dogs in this apartment right now", she told, and god did she feel weird saying that. She had never told anyone about it before. "You three ain't the only freaks of nature in this flat, one doggy is hiding in it's human form."
Stokely took another bite from her wrap. She felt a little dizzy, not sure if it was the wounds or the weird fact of finally seeing someone with crazy gifts. Even though it was a little weird that his gift was...being followed by two corpses? How did they even get back alive and why did they follow him? Oh, well.. Alot of mysteries. It was a little disturbing, but not in too large scale.
"And in fact, you're the first mutie I've ever seen with my own eyes. What is your ability? I mean..more than be followed by those two."
And with another hand she reached for her beer to drink some of it. Stokes was being kinda straightforward on this, but in the end, Miles had said he'd be willing to discuss about anything. Was this subject included?

Miles was attentive, not just to her words, but to her face and body language. He really wanted to know what she thought and if she understood what he meant. Some people were oblivious to the mutant situation (he had been, before turning into one) while others didn't have an opinion about it until they were dragged into it or faced with a mutant and expected to know where they stood on the matter.

Stokely's reaction was obvious surprise at first, then something akin to doubt or confusion in her face which probably meant... who the hell knows? He wasn't like the guy from 'Lie to me' who could read people's gestures. Her spoken answer however, sounded truthful as she told him this was weird and ended it with a 'wow'. Then she laughed.

Miles felt himself relax a little, not noticing he had been tense while waiting for an answer. She stood from the couch's arm rest and fetched her wrap, an opportunity Miles took to catch a glimpse of her rear while her own eyes were distracted with the foil. He squeezed his drink a bit tighter between his legs, just so if things got a little more graphic it wouldn't tip over.

She then smiled a bit (was this the first time he had seen her do that?) and came through with a revelation of her own.

The first thing he thought when she said there were three dogs in the apartment was 'I'm not a dog' but then she implied she wasn't talking about him. One doggy is hiding in it's human form. He was in the middle of chewing when she said that, which brought it to a sudden stop. Then she told him he was his first (mutant, of course) and wondered what his abilities were.

Miles swallowed and tightened his mouth as if thinking things over. He never went into details regarding this, always wondering what people would think of him if he did. In his own eyes, he was a freaking necromancer who possessed a dark, unnatural mutation even if he, himself, was not dark in the least. To be stigmatized as some kind of evil monster for the sort of things he felt compelled to do while in his dark mode was not the sort of situation he looked forward to.

Then again...

Stokely lived in her own place. He had just met her. He may pass by nearby when going to and from school, but she didn't live in Sanctuary nor study at his school, so he wouldn't be seeing her everyday. Even if her reaction was negative, he could live with it. He could use her as a gauge to know what sort of reactions average people would have at knowing about his mutation in detail, even though Stokely's personality struck him as far from the average folk. He risked it anyway.

"Let me get this straight" he said, sipping a bit more from his soda, then putting it back in place and holding it tightly. "You're saying you're a mutant, as I am, and you're now asking me what I can do..." he paused while he grabbed another bite, and turned to look at his dogs.

Chewed... swallowed.

"I'm assuming you won't kick me out of here afterwards, but you see them dogs? They died in my hands. Flatlined. Dead. Pushing daisies..." he said, now staring into her eyes. "It was emotional and traumatic, because I loved them both when they were alive and then... something happened. Something dark and creepy and... and... disgusting and reproachable and the next thing I know, I'm turning dead bodies into perfect slaves. Their wounds? healed. Their skin? Changed. Their eyes? red. Their souls?..."

He paused and sipped some more soda. Swallowed.

"...Lost."

Miles sighed. It was inevitable when he talked about this not to remember his dogs when they were alive. So happy, so excited when they saw him, so desperate for a snack, for a walk in the park, for a little attention, and now? Mute statues, waiting obediently for his next command.

"I don't know if they're truly dead anymore, I just know they're not truly alive. And that's what my mutation does. I don't like it and I don't want it, but when someone dies, I can bring him back to life" he said as he pointed at his dogs without looking at them. "If you can call that life."

He then leaned his back on the couch, trying to figure out what she thought about it from what he was seeing in her face. With a piece of burger still in his mouth, he encouraged Stokely to come clean as well.

"Your turn" he said. "One doggy is hiding in human form. Spill the beans."

Damn if Stokely would've noticed Miles looking at her butt, she would've probably beaten the poor boy to death.

Stokely leaned back a little as Miles opened his mouth to speak. She wasn't sure if the boy was about to answer to her inquisitive question or not, but at least there was a possibility.
She followed his gaze with her own for a short period of time, to the two red-eyed dogs which were like two creepy and gothic statues. Miles started to tell about them and Stokes shifted her look back to Miles, meeting his dark eyes with her own, listening carefully this weird ghost story he was telling.
She once again took a bite from the chicken wrap, chewing it up, taking a sip of beer and then swallowed it all down. She probably was very charming sight with chicken wrap on her left hand and beer on her right.

Stokely felt kinda lucky with her own skill which was nothing compared to what she heard now. What Miles told her sounded at least very creepy. Turned two things he loved into soulless machines which followed him like mindless slaves? Stokely looked at the dogs once again. It had to be awful to see them like that, they were acting like some sort of robots. And then she brought her eyes back to Miles. Well, they weren't very much alive. Or...well, they were alive. Like some sort of bugs or other creatures which didn't seem to think anything.

Stokely fixed her sitting position a little. Moving around made her wounds cause stinging pain, but she coped with it without whining.
"Sounds pretty rough...your mutation", she said almost like saying she was sorry. Stokes had never heard about such a dark ability. She had heard normal people talking about mutants and their different abilities, but they usually included something more... well, different than that.

And then Miles expressed he was interested to know about her ability. Stokes drank some of the beer, before saying anything.
"Well don't expect to hear a better story than yours", she said and gave a little laugh, and gently pressed the cold bottom of the beer can against her thigh as she looked Miles in the eyes.
"I'm a shape-shifter", Stokes stated and again she felt very strange talking about this subject. "Not a kind of shape-shifter who can take any form, I only have one I can shift to. A dog. A baby-eater dog. A pit bull", she defined and lowered her look on the beer can for a while.

Girl didn't even consider about telling Miles about the good side of her ability - to be able to be a biggest cheater in dog fight rings. Normal dogs weren't able to plan stragedies to win, they just fought as hard as they could. She had a cutting edge, her human intelligence in, too. She didn't even think a single bit about telling the boy the truth about the fatman either. He didn't need to know everything.

Miles was now the only one who knew about her ability. So if people on streets suddenly started throwing rotten tomatoes on her or something she knew who to find to execute the almighty soccer kick to.
"So yeah, that's all I can do", she blurted out with lazy smile as she looked at Miles. And at the same time some of the salad and chicken from her chicken wrap fell on her lap and on the couch. Her expression changed immediately to much more exasperated, and she gritted. For a while she was just petrified.
That's all I can do..? Yeah, pretty much, and I'm also very good at spilling food all the f*cking over the place! Yeaahhh! ... She really had to use all of her mental resources to fight the overwhelming urge throw that god damn wrap on to the wall. Gladly she didn't do it. Mental explosion was pretty close now, it had to be stopped. Everything had to go wrong today, right?!

Stokely forced pissed smile on her face as she gave absolutely murderous glare at the salad and chicken pieces on her feet and sofa. She had to keep herself completely still for a while to prevent herself from crushing the beer can and that betreyal chicken wrap on her hands.
"Are your dogs hungry, Miles?" simple question had forbidding and omnious tone on it even though she tried to keep it as normal as she could. No yelling, no yelling. No yelling. Yet. Not yet. Just calm down, everything's not f*cked up yet. The building they were in hadn't collapsed on them, a motherf*cking meteorite hadn't crushed the city, and the zombie dogs hadn't spilled diarrhea on floor. This was just a little accident. No need to get enraged, Stokes, everything's cool.

She ate while he spoke. She looked at his dogs, drank some beer, listened... nothing said she was freaking out but when she finally said something back, it sounded like... pity? She actually felt sorry for him. Who knew? Of all the emotions people could feel towards him if he explained his mutation to them, he never contemplated empathy to the way he felt about it. Pity wasn't something he particularly liked getting, but it was preferable to scorn.

Then again, she was a mutant herself and so far, most mutants he had met had a level of understanding of what it meant to have genes playing havoc with your body. In her case, though, it was kind of cool. She came clean and told him she could turn into a dog and not just any dog, but a 'baby-eater' pit bull specifically.

Miles squeezed his eyebrows in thought. Weren't those somewhat vicious and strong? She said she could turn into the one dog, but if you could shift into any dog, would you bother turning into a chihuahua or a pekingese when you could turn into a pit bull? What's the point of having variety when you can turn into the most badass of them all?

"Yours sounds pretty cool" he said in return, tossing the last bite of burger into his mouth, then giving her a side smile that showed his cheek dimple as he joked. "Wanna trade? Don't go dying on me unless you want me to add you to the collection."

She then made a bit of a mess that Miles found pretty trivial but judging by her expression, it was anything but trivial to her. Who would have known that Stokely was a bit of a neat freak? Or maybe there was something else bothering her, like... you know, being beaten, in pain and now just losing half her dinner. She tensed up visibly and asked if his dogs were hungry but the teen felt like he was walking on thin ice and while his answer was truthful, it was also meant not to give her any trouble.

"No. Never" he said. "They're also never thirsty, never sleepy, never horny... think of them as furniture" Miles added, which was a bit of an exaggeration, but he said it just so she wouldn't think the dogs were something she'd have to worry about. Him, on the other hand, was quite alive and had needs. The need to help once again reared it's head as he sipped some soda, then put the cup on the table and stood up.

"Let me clean it up, it's nothing..." he offered as he headed for the kitchenette, but then he remembered too late that Stokely was not into being helped. His eyes opened wide as he tried to amend his maid-like disposition.

"...you know, as... payment, for the food and... hearing me out without freaking too much. Seriously, it's not easy for me telling anyone what I just told you, I don't know how that happened" he added, waving his hands and trying to make his offered help seem like he owed it to her. "I would've gone home a cold, wet puppy had I not found you on the way as well, so you just sit tight, I've got this..."

Miles reacted nicely to her ability, it wasn't much when compared to his mad mutation, but yeah. It was pretty cool.
It was kinda creepy thought when she realized that Miles could probably also turn dead humans into...well, things like those two canines, what ever they were called. Zombies? Undead? Well..sounded like horror movie stuff once again. So f*ck it.

It was a little disappointment that his dogs didn't eat. Or do anyhting else normal either. She could've fed her lunch to them because she wasn't about to continue eating it. At least not now. Maybe tomorrow. The chicken wrap would probably explode all over the place if she took one more bite from it. Or the foil would rip from the bottom of it and everything would just rain on her lap, couch and floor. Yay. No thanks.

Stokely stood up with her wrap and beer, the wounds on her thigh caused pain once again, but she intended to start cleaning up those damn chicken and salad pieces. The ones which were on her lap, were now on floor. And the ones which were on couch....well, they were still there.

But then Miles got up too, faster than she did and headed for the kitchenette, telling he could clean it up. She felt her mental irritation meter's readout rising. She put her beer and the rest of the chicken wrap on the table, and after that turned to follow Miles with her eyes. Did she look like a little brat who couldn't clean up her own mess? Cut it out, Miles, you son of a bitch! Even if your dogs are perfect slaves you don't have to be! Or well-- you can be, but don't dare do it to me! You'd better haul your ass back on couch, boy!

Miles seemed to notice the mistake in his action since he started explaining why he was willing to do it.
"You don't owe me a damn thing", she said with kinda unpleasant voice. She didn't like to be helped. She did absolutely not like it, she was able to do everything on her own. Everything. Getting help with something just made her feel weak. Or that the person offering help thought she was weak. And she didn't want to be weak, because she wasn't. Goddamn it.
"Do as you wish - this time, if it makes you feel you alive", she sighed after a while, took her beer can again and dropped back to sit on couch, fighting against her urge to say something quite mean and nasty the way she usually did

"Even though I have a few scratches it doesn't mean I'm helpless" she uttered and drank some beer. Damn, the can was almost empty. "It's not your duty to help me out you know? I can do everything I need on my own. Everything."
Well she could've said 'thank you' or something to show appreciation for his effort. Well, she wasn't the easiest social contact, and maybe acted a little childish. But better be pissed off than pissed on, right? After surviving on her own for many years, she had grown to get used to it. And when someone offered help, it always made her wonder if the person did it just to mock her, or by feeling pity on her, or to get return service. Or something else irritating.

Stokes stayed quiet for some time, just enjoying her beer and cooling down. She had almost entered the red zone. Sound of raindrops hitting the window was kinda relaxing and slowly she started to get calmed a little. Once again. Then she just sighed, giving up sulking. Saying sorry to Miles for snapping at him? No way.
"You will freeze out there", she said, keeping her gaze on the beer can which had just small amount of liquid inside anymore. "I could let you sleep on my couch if needed."
Mood swings. Usually people she interacted with were about same age with her and towards them she was even more dour. To be hones she felt a little uneasy raging to a young boy she had just invited in, so she had to just swallow her irritation time after time. It probably was confusing. Offering little help, then snapping, then calming down again, and doing something else. Well. Wasn't her problem. She had never been too ingratiating person. But she kinda liked the fact Miles was a freak like she was. If Miles was at least few years older and not a mutant, she would've not even invited him in. The dogs had awaken her interest at first. And here they were.

She didn't take it that well, you could see it on her face, but she didn't stop him either. You could tell she had issues when being offered a helping hand and Miles had issues NOT offering one when he thought someone needed it. This could easily end up with him getting kicked out of the apartment if he wasn't careful.

As he looked over at the cleaning implements Stokely kept on her kitchenette, his mind was mulling over what she had said. She really liked her independence and didn't want to seem helpless in the least. She could do everything, she said.

"I know you're not helpless and I'm not doing it because it's my duty" he said as way of explanation. "Hasn't anyone ever done something for you just because they want to be nice? You know, just a friendly gesture?"

Once he said those words, he wondered how many friends Stokely had. She seemed to live alone in her flat, had something of a rough personality and didn't seem like the trusting sort. He wouldn't be surprised if the only reason she told him about her mutation was because she was curious about his and mutants who lived alone didn't seem the sort to trust people, so it made perfect sense if she didn't have any.

"See, you're offering me to stay. That's a friendly gesture on your part and I'm not going to go 'Graah! Don't want your help! I can sleep wherever I want!' and then run off to sleep under a bridge" he continued, trying to joke a little to convince her accepting help was not that big of an issue. "In fact, I'm going to take you up on your offer. Thank you, Stokely! Now get off my bed, I have to clean it up. See? Now I'm not helping you, I'm helping myself."

He might have been pushing it a little with that, but there was mirth in his voice and he had a mischievous smile as he said that. He found a broom on the kitchenette and a paper towel roll, which he picked up, wetting a couple of them on the sink. Cleaning up the salad and chicken was a non-issue, what made the mess was the chicken sauce, which he scooped up with the wet tissues and then wiped the rest with a couple of dry ones, blotting and patting them so they'd absorb the wetness of the sauce from the couch. It wasn't ideal and Miles' messy nature made him inexperienced in the mystical arts of cleaning things up, but it worked for him. Either way, he was likely to sleep with his head on the other side of the couch and he was sure his feet wouldn't give a damn about the remnants of chicken sauce.

Miles collected the dirty tissues and wrapped the bits of salad and chicken with the rest of them in a ball that would go straight to the trash. As he did so, he remembered her mentioning he was the first mutant she'd met so far, which made him flashback t to the first time he met Syn and then other mutants at Sanctuary.

"I live in a shelter called Sanctuary, located several blocks away from here. Doesn't look much like a shelter, since it's specifically for mutants of all sorts" he told her, inevitably comparing their different lifestyles. "You seem to live on your own. How come?" he asked, not realizing he might be intruding on personal issues she might not want to talk about.