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The sushi moved quickly and soon dissolved into full-bellied contentedness. She glanced at Andrew as he spoke to Jack and nodded her agreement. The mansion was expansive to say the least, there were plenty of things to do, grassy areas to run around on and other dogs and mutants to meet. At least, she assumed there were other dogs at the mansions, she was certain she had noticed them around before.

Andrew’s comment about the sushi made her grin a little sheepishly and ruffle Jack’s ears. She was spoiling him a bit, and it would be bad to train him into begging at the table, and difficult to train him out of it. Better to stop now. Besides which, that was the last of the sushi anyway.

“Yes, I’m afraid once we’re home its more along the lines of kibbles-and-bits.”

To start out with sushi must have made the little pirate feel rather classy, but she suspected he was the type not to mind a bit of rough-and-tumble. More along the lines of the mansion and its residents. No matter how it was sliced, diced or presented, the mansion was still a school, full of children from all over the place.

“Speaking of home, shall we head back?”

Once she had had a go with the scissors and divided the photos between them, they would be able to find each other in a moment of need, but until they were home she wasn’t sure where any scissors were. She was fairly sure that they had everything they needed, for now, and it would be good to get Jack home and settled in nicely.

“Shh, Jack, shhh, it’s alright.”

The furry pirate captain hushed and sat obediently, tail returning to its semi-permanent wagging as he sniffed towards the little white dog, possibly his third friend for the day. After a moment matching her own the detective recognised her, and she nodded. It was nice to see him again, especially since it didn’t involve her calling him to the scene of some crime or another.

She flushed again at his implications. They were friends dang nabbit, all stolen kisses, adopted doggies and mixed signals aside. Andrew confirmed that with his spluttered denial. They were friends, the option was there for more if they decided to walk that road, but for now they were nothing more than that. Getting to know each other and sharing the caring for a certain fluffy friend. She raised her eyebrows at the vampire comment, but before she could reiterate that it was the necklace’s fault, and there was no neck-nomming Andrew flared up at the ‘old man’.

Surely he wasn’t that old.

Verdy stared at Andrew, temper-temper. Something about that had touched a nerve apparently. She wasn’t sure if she should pat him comfortingly on the back, or duck under the bench whimpering. She compromised with a terrified pat on the leg. Possibly right on top of her slap-bruise. Possibly not.

“If you mean the ones that sparkle, not a big fan… no. If perchance you mean the mutant Hunter, who runs a spiritual balance place, the originator of all vampire myths, then of course.”

She smiled, take that as you will, ‘old man’.

She looked at Andrew curiously, before turning her eyes to the detective’s dog. Jack had snuck under the bench and was now sniffing her face curiously, ready to jump back if bared teeth snapped at him. Andrew didn’t like small dogs, so his compliment of the loud-mouthed bulldog(?) struck her as a desperate attempt at a change of topic.

“What’s her name?”

A dignified pause.

“How do you two know each other?”

Her claim to the detective’s recognition had been explained, first friend in NYC, yet Andrew’s had not. After his outburst the cell-thing seemed a little more plausible, still not quite right, but plausible.

The necklace was almost free, she could feel that, most of the tweaking had lessened. Her freedom was close at hand. Jack’s cocked head and thumping tail indicated that he was ready for the necklace to stop being the centre of attention and the focus return to him. Preferably to throw the ball now coated evenly in a layer of slobber. Poking her tongue out at him she held still, waiting for the last bits of hair to be coaxed off the chain by Andrew’s persuasive fingers.

The throat clearing startled her, but not so much as Andrew, who jumped and snatched his hand away, unfortunately taking the necklace and remaining tangled hairs with it. That hurt.

“Yeowch!”

Her hand moved faster than she could think to stop it, and she took him up on his offer to hit him if he hurt her, slapping his thigh with a resounding crack. Jack leapt up from where he had been sitting contentedly and released a flurry of barks, evenly distributed between the intruder, Andrew and Verdy, unsure as to who was at fault. Amid all the kerfuffle the gruff voice accused them of something which friends like they were, wasn’t likely to be happening. Her face flushed to match Andrew’s and her protests swirled with his.

Apparently, when startled, Andrew yelled out the first thing he saw. Something like a woman squealing 'mouse!' or 'fire!'... 'Old man!' didn't quite pack the same punch, but perhaps he had an in-built phobia of gentlemen past a certain age.

“No! It wasn’t… We weren’t!… Nothing happened!”

She felt like she was defending herself to a teacher, or someone else in a position of authority, and she scanned the grizzled face, trying to place how she knew him. She knew she knew him, in fact she was fairly certain she had his number buried away somewhere, and programmed into her phone under ‘mutant cop’.

“Detective… Cervantes?”

Water bender, new-New-Yorker, cop.

He knew Andrew? Or rather, Andrew knew him, on a first-name basis? That was startling, small world, all that. What could Andrew possibly have done to get him acquainted with a mutant-specialising cop? Mental images of Andrew behind bars, chatting to the cop on duty seemed a little far-fetched, and she put them down to an overactive imagination.

Andrew appeared after she had thrown the ball, and paused to play with Jack, before making his way over. Jack seemed to be having a good time, and the new canine companions seemed friendly enough. The two arrived at the bench and looked at her with matching expressions of curiosity and concern. Despite the discomfort of the necklace, and her annoyance with its stubbornness, she had to smile at them.

“Good morning. Sort of, my necklace is all caught in my hair and I can’t get it out.”

Tugging on the stubborn chain entangled in her still-damp hair she grimaced. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, and yet the longer she left it, the worse it would get. More than her irritation at the necklace was her slight embarrassment at the implication that she was neglecting personal hygiene. She had been very careful on the streets not to give off that vibe, avoiding dreadlocks at all costs and dragging a brush through her hair everyday, no matter how little she wanted to. She felt uncomfortable enough to give an explanation.

“I usually sleep with my hair done up, but it was out last night and got all wrapped around the chain.”

The necklace was the one she had received for her birthday from her roommate, and it was a regular accessory on her neck, this was the first issue she’d had with it, though, and she blamed her hair. Flicking most of her hair, except for the tangled bits, around to the front she shrugged, perhaps if Andrew sat beside her on the bench he could see what was causing the problem and remedy it. That’s what friends are for, after all, getting you out of tricky situations.

“Ack, I’ve been trying to untangle it all morning, can you help me please?”

Once a suitable table was chosen, close to escape routes and with limited points where unwanted (or wanted) guests could approach from, they were seated. Andrew busied himself with chopsticks and she turned her attention to her own pair, cracking them apart and rubbing them together to remove any splinters before wriggling them into position between her fingers. It had been years since she had used them, but the basic knowledge remained. After a few failed attempts at clutching her bright piece of raw fish and rice (succeeding in pushing it around the plate quite effectively) success! Carefully manoeuvring the morsel into her mouth she glanced up in time to see the piece of fried something (chicken? Beef? The coating made it difficult to tell) go tumbling down to the eagerly waiting Jack.

“Ah, yes, it is quite tricky… good idea.”

The sushi was good, no matter how it made its way to the mouth, chopsticks, fingers, or dropped bits, and she smiled across at her friend and reached under the table to pet Jack’s head. Choosing a piece of flesh coloured fish separated from the rice by a strip of green she popped it into her mouth, chewed once and instantly regretted it. That green stuff, she searched for the name through a mind which threatened to explode from her head as tears began streaming from her eyes.

Wasabi.

Snatching one of the napkins she none-too-subtly spat the half-chewed food into it and gasped for air, water, concrete, anything was better than the fire in her mouth. Her fingers found her bag and fumbled the water bottle out of its depths and to her lips where she sucked it in and swallowed, swishing its coolness around her burning mouth before swallowing again and dissolving into a fit of coughs. Very lady-like.

Finally surfacing for air and what remained of her dignity she blinked the remaining tears from her eyes and looked sheepishly up at Andrew.

“That green stuff… it’s hot.”

Cheese came under the heading of ‘milky stuff’ for their lactose-intolerant fluffy friend, and seeing as it tended to get over everything the burgers seemed like maybe an idea for next time they went out. Out together, of course, not ‘going out’ out… She had been watching Andrew’s behaviour quietly and had decided that seeing as he wasn’t giving off any other signals (today), that for now they were just friends. That was ok though, it meant they could get to know each other, no strings attached.

Sushi seemed to be the most popular decision, and it was relatively inexpensive. Nodding she stepped up closer to the store and inspected their overhead menu. Everything sounded good (for all that her inner pronunciation was way off, for a certain fact) and the fish had the fresh looking gleam which promised cool delicate texture, nothing like the rubbery 99c cans of tuna she had resorted to in the past.

An assorted platter looked good, enough to share, with some left over for Jack to try, or to nibble on if some weren’t to taste. It also had the advantage of two pieces of each thing and a mix of fried, marinated, and raw meats. The glance from Andrew and his shift of attention to Jack was all the permission she needed (not that she really needed any, it was simply polite) and she ordered them one to share. She was startled by the two pairs of chopsticks, but decided now was as good a time as ever to brush up on the dexterity, especially when the frantic tail-wagger would be happy to clean up any dropped tidbits, intentional and accidental.

“Alrighty, lets give this a go.”

Pausing a moment to pay and move the photos to her bag she turned to find them a table which would be optimum for sitting. With Jack as a lookout there was really no need to put her back into a corner, but old habits die hard and she found herself scouting for the table which provided the least number of options for anyone sneaking up behind her. It was subconscious, and automatic.

Share the fun, and the germs and the squirm factor. It was funny, a little bit, somewhere inside herself, and she snickered. There were no hard feelings, no malicious intent, and although Jack had surprised her he was, like Andrew said, a good dog.

Finally after the extended time (much longer than the advertised twenty-five seconds) and when a particularly sickly sounding moan issued from the machine she feared not only that their photos would be ruined, but that the tiny seat might give way and swallow them into the belly of some monstrous beast. Of course that fear was quickly nullified by a whirr and the strip of photos arriving safely in the collection slot.

She had neglected to pack her scissors on this little trip, the webpages she had researched had said nothing about needing them. She had brought photo ID (or rather, come with someone who had photo ID which, while not the same, was as good as), worn clothes that while presentable wouldn’t matter if they got a little grubby and she was well past eighteen. In short, she had done everything it suggested.

“Back to the Mansion then? Or should we stop and grab something to eat?”

In addition to the tail-wagging Jack now had a serious case of the nose-sniffling, wriggling the damp black triangle back and forth to sample the smells of the food court and New York in general.