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Gina listened intently to her sister’s explanation. It made sense, but it also came as a surprise to the young gargoyle. There were even biases like that in classical music… a favor that was geared diseases towards more popular instruments, leaving more abstract or uncommon ones in the dust. It felt a little too close to home… a little too close to the “You need to pursue a major that'll lead to a career, not fashion” conversation that Gina and her mom seemed to hold on a semi-monthly basis.

“That's unfortunate,” the gargoyle murmured, “Harp music’s really lovely.”

She wondered if independently producing music was an option. Whatever options there were, they'd probably considered all of them. And as if Gina was a veritable fount of real-world advice. She was still in the throes of figuring it all out.

>> ”We’re…trying…”

The gargoyle watched her sister carefully, her brow stitching. Gina extended a reassuring hand towards Agnes, settling it upon her arm.

“I'm sure you guys will figure it out,” Gina said, in reference to the full-time job et al., “You’re smart, Aggie, and kind. You'll find a way.”

Gina didn't know River well enough to speak for her. The air around the gargoyle was pregnant with questions unspoken, but Gina couldn't find the appropriate space to voice them. Something was wrong with Agnes, Gina could tell, but she couldn't bring herself to grill her big sister. The gargoyle sheepishly took a few bites of her soufflé, an awkward grimace flickering across her face.

Gina smiled humbly at Simon’s initial reaction, particularly regarding the surprise that she didn’t beat public transportation ten-out-of-ten times. She might have chuckled a bit and rubbed the back of her head. The questions, however, were more technical. Did she typically glide? How did she get the height she needed. She couldn’t help the confused expression settling over her features. In a way, it was flattering—most people didn’t ask such detailed questions. To be quite honest, most people didn’t ask questions at all. The thing about visible mutants was that their capabilities were mostly surface-level. People took one look at you and knew what your abilities were (for the most part).

The real mysteries were people who looked perfectly normal. Like Simon, for example.

“Depends on the weather, but I try to glide when I can, yes,” Gina answered genuinely, nodding her head, “It expends less energy. As per take-off, well… I typically just try to find a high place to jump-off of. Otherwise I just… jump? But again, that expends more energy.” Her tail flicked absently.

Those who looked human were sometimes more guarded about their mutations (as Gina had learned with Richard), and so the gargoyle elected not to pry with Simon, this time. Perhaps he wasn’t even a mutant—after all, Honeycomb’s only stipulation was that you were “mutant or mutant-friendly”, which mean humans or adapteds were more than welcome to join the community.

“I’m in my third year at NYU,” the gargoyle confirmed, “Double-majoring in Fashion and Social Work… if everything goes well, I might be out in two years.” Double-majoring took the whole “four-year plan” and threw it out the window. Even five years felt blindly optimistic.

“What do you do?” the gargoyle returned the question to Simon, feeling like she’d been talking an awful lot about herself. He carried himself as though he was older, but sometimes people returned to school after they were a little older. Different circumstances and all, “Are you a student?”

Once Gina was settled, the gargoyle picked up her fork, using the edge of it to delicately slice the pastry. The pastries at places like these were such that, if your bites were too big, they’d be gone before you knew it. The trick to making them last was tiny bites. The gargoyle contemplatively chewed her soufflé as her sister commented on how busy the gargoyle must have been with meeting new people. Yeah, being a social butterfly was time- and energy-consuming, but knowing your neighbors had advantages. The gargoyle bobbed her head to show the accuracy of her observation.

“Ooh, baked goods,” the gargoyle echoed, “That’s a good idea. Maybe lemon bars!”

The thought honestly hadn’t occurred to her. But now that her sister had mentioned it, baked goods had a way of swaying people’s sympathies. Gina smiled as Agnes mentioned Chess of Crowns. It wasn’t really her speed, but she did offer, “Two of my brothers are really into Chess of Crowns. It feels too… gory? …for me.” Of course, all Gina knew about Chess of Crowns was that characters died routinely.

Another bite of soufflé, and Gina listened to her sister’s report of the goings-on in her life. Her eyes were politely trained on her sister, chewing slowly. She paused when Agnes mentioned that she and River were “holding-off on the wedding” until they “settled and she gets a full-time job”.

Gina swallowed her second bite of soufflé, and cradled the mug of mocha in her hands. Her sister was smiling meagerly at her, and Gina found it… curious.

“I thought River was a musician? Like you?” Gina pried. It was an innocent enough clarification. She’d only met River once, so details were foggy on what she actually did for a living. Gina thought that she’d been employed full-time as it was, anyways. The gargoyle took a swig of the mocha, and winced in instant regret. Breathing out sharply, she commented, “God, that’s strong. Way too hot.”

Gina didn’t pry into the “holding off on the wedding” bit, though it was significantly more interesting to her. If Nessa had been telling the truth… if Becca and Agnes were seeing one another… that could go to explain why the wedding was being pushed back. She would come back to the mocha, after it cooled-off a bit. Gina picked up her fork again.

“Sounds stressful, though… are you guys doing alright?” the gargoyle pressed-on, her brow’s stitching. Lord knew that things had been tense at her birthday…

Vanessa liked to experiment but wore a lot of graphic tees for work, and wore a medium in women’s. The gargoyle thought very little of her friend’s response, just nodded and progressed into the store. Though Gina did not personally wear too many graphic tees, a nerdier university friend once explained to her the tribulations of finding the perfect graphic tee, “Junior’s sizes sometimes carry graphic tee’s, but they try too hard to be cute. If you want the good stuff, you gotta go to the Young Men’s section. Don’t even waste your time on Misses.”

The gargoyle ventured into the first section of the store, waving to the associate that greeted her, idly perusing the racks and displays towards the front of the store. She had to be careful of shear or loose-knit fabrics… it’d be horrible to get a run in something she didn’t plan-on buying. Gina spied a white, tunic-styled graphic tee hanging on the wall, and gave a humored “pfffft”.

She plucked one down and showed it to her friend. In slightly-faded blue font, it read “That’s” and below, a picture of a bunch of bananas.

“That’s bananas,” the gargoyle chuckled, searching Nessa for a reaction. What kinds of graphic tee’s? Puns? Nerd-shirts? ? The only way to find-out was to offer her things and see what she went for.

>> ”I wouldn’t mind seeing what you think would work on me,”

Gina started appraising her friend again, measuring Nessa with her eyes, assessing what would look good on her.

“You’d probably look great in just about anything, honestly,” the gargoyle said offhandedly, “You’re so nice and slim.”

Maybe some maroon, Gina thought, her eyes lingering on Nessa and, specifically, her rich auburn hair. Maroon would be pretty on her. Her eyes swam back towards the store. She’d have to look for maroon. Her attention returned to the racks.

“Maybe some warm colors,” the gargoyle offered, “They’d be really nice with your complexion.”

The “That’s Bananas” graphic tee went back on the rack, and the gargoyle resumed perusing. Maroon was a very specific shade, more typical in the autumn—they’d be hard pressed to find it during this time of year. But maybe, maaaaaybe they could find something else warm-colored.

“I’d be damned if maybe they have something with an open back… a skirt or a dress or… something?” the gargoyle mused. Those were the only things she could really try on, honestly. The real challenge was finding something that accommodated her boobs. Ugh.

Nessa confirmed that, after Gina’s birthday, it really had ended between the two of them—and it sounded messy. The gargoyle had uttered her condolences and now just chewed on the brunette’s summary. Becca had confessed to what had happened between her and Agnes, and that was the nail in the coffin, for Nessa.

“Good for you,” the gargoyle sighed, nodding her head. In her mind, she lauded Nessa for having the guts to end it. Though Gina had never been in that situation, she was enough of a bleeding heart to try and make things work, even if it flew in the face of what was reasonable. It took strength to end it. Deeper down, Gina was also troubled—Becca and Nessa had been together, just as Agnes was engaged to River. For a moment, the smile flickered off of her face, and she rolled her lips together. It was a pensive look. She loved Agnes deeply, thought highly of her, couldn’t fathom her sister ruining an engagement for her high school girlfriend. Agnes was better than that. Except, if she wasn’t… like, really wasn’t…

River didn’t deserve that. Did that make Gina the avenging angel of cheated-on girlfriends? The gargoyle sighed. She’d work on that puzzle later. Gina jogged to keep pace with Nessa.

>> ”I’ve been… better. Good, even. Catching up on some games, and just getting back out into the social world. Kicking and screaming sometimes, but I’m working on it.”

This brought the smile back to the gargoyle’s face. She couldn’t stand the feeling of being adrift in the walkway anymore, the gargoyle anchored herself to Nessa’s arm. She liked the feeling of walking arm-in-arm with friends, for one thing, and it helped her keep-pace (given her short legs). Furthermore…
Reassuring Nessa like this just felt right!

“Better is good,” the gargoyle said reassuringly, “And keeping busy probably helps.”

Gina was definitely one of the types to work her way through issues by keeping herself busy. This was only after, however, a day of moping and drowning her sorrows in ice cream.

>> ”I guess I realize I need to stop blocking out my friends when I get mopey.”

“People take energy,” the gargoyle said understandingly, “It’s okay to mope a little bit. My last break-up, the only people I was sharing my woes with were my two good friends, Ben & Jerry. At least at first, anyways.”

Ice cream fixes all problems. The two slowed in front of a store front—oh, yeah, shopping. The gargoyle appraised the store. It would be worth peeking in there, perhaps, but most of their clothes were cheaply-made. A definite design-stealing or wear-as-is store. Not a buy-and-modify.

>> ”Whatcha think?”

“Worth a shot,” the gargoyle grinned, releasing her friend’s arm to trot through the entrance, “Is this your style? What size do you wear?”

Of course the gargoyle would shop for herself, too, but the likelihood of finding something for her companion was much higher. Gina turned to face her friend, her wings a-flutter with the thrill of the hunt. Shopping with friends means shopping for friends. Dun-dun-DUN!

Agnes admonished that she did not know many of the theme songs for the video game performance personally, and began to mention it would have a different significance for Becca. Well, that’s what she started to say, anyways. But she stopped. The gargoyle’s ears pricked a bit, the way one’s ears might if your name was called unexpectedly. Huh.

Gina was dislodged from her thoughts by a hair-ruffle, which earned churlish, pursed lips. The scowl didn’t linger long, however, as Gina quickly stepped aside for her sister. The orders were placed, and Agnes leaned against the gargoyle, prying with questions.

>> ”So, how you been? Besides being forced to marry an inanimate object and lashing roommates together. Come on, I want all the gossip.”

“‘The gossip’,” Gina laughed, as if she had some juicy details about her life that she was sparing her sister from. What did that even mean? Gina looped an arm through Agnes’s, leading her sister towards the quaint café tables, “I’ve been a lot better now that finals are over. Been venturing out and about a lot to get out of the house, volunteering at Xavier’s… nothing juicy and gossip-worthy, though.”

Honestly and truly. Unless you counted “randomly crossing paths with Nessa at the mall, yesterday” down as something worthy of the gossip. It’d probably come up later, anyways. They found a small table for two towards the edge of the room, one that was out-of-the-way but not wedged in the corner, which would’ve been unpleasant to navigate with wings.

Gina fanned her wings slightly so that they were behind the back of the chair, before folding them again. As she sat, her tail was brought to the side and then set upon her lap, so as to avoid accidental missteps on her tail.

“People have been coming and going at Honeycomb—the co-op I live in—lately,” the gargoyle went-on, “It’s been a struggle to keep-up with all the new faces, but it’s also been fun to see who comes and who stays…”

Gina trailed off, letting her gaze rest on Agnes, “Other than that, though, it’s been pleasantly boring. I’m gonna need new shows to stalk on Binge, soon enough.”

The gargoyle rested her head upon her hand, smiling up at her sister, “What about you? What’s the scoop?”