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"Well you're just great at flattery, aren't you?" Really. 'Improve a little more, and you might not be completely terrible!' That's very encouraging, guy. He tried again anyway. Apparently he really wasn't going to be able to get out of this, so he might as well get it over with.

"Reality doesn't work that way." And the guy really ought to know it, too. That was a really stupid threat, as well as being annoying. Persi had no patience left for it, and hadn't for years.

"And how am I supposed to dodge? That seems like a better thing to learn first." Or, at least, to learn pretty quickly. Persi didn't care too much, really; as long as he could find problems with the guy's approach. Like fighting at all. Persi was pretty sure that was supposed to be a problem, too.

Persi really didn't have much to say on the gardener helping with gardening. Well, he had a moment of being surprised that the Mansion had a gardener, but on second thought it probably should have been obvious, so he kept that to himself. There also was not much to say about the existence of a spoon, except.... "dirt... eater? How does that even work?" Persi was pretty sure that the nutrients a human body needed did not exist in dirt. At least, not in the right form or quantities.

...Of course, this was a mutant. So it would be a mutant body, not a human body. That was probably it.

"Sure." Persi might have perked up a bit more at that. Forest meant shade, and trees, which potentially could be climbed. Both were definitely benefits in his mind right now. "Is anyone going to appear and yell at me for climbing the trees?"

"Sure." Persi wasn't totally sure what a shout was, but from the context it probably meant paying for the coffee. And if not he still had enough money left over, so it would only be a little bit awkward if he'd misunderstood.

More apples were given out, which kind of made Persi happy that they had been given out, and kind of made him feel guilty for not having anything of his own to give, so all he could do was stand there next to Cara and be awkward. That was kind of stupid though, he really didn't have anything to give away, so he tried to ignore it.

Also, seeing a guy not blame his wife for leaving him for a mutant was... weird. Confusing enough to distract Persi from the guilt for a little while, too. He didn't even seem to be blaming the mutant, unless he was being really passive aggressive about it.

And there was another distraction at the coffee shop. Multiple, in fact. Persi read about half of the menu before his eye caught purple in the corner of it.

...That... was a mutant. A really, really typical mutant, the kind his parents had used in scary bedtime stories. Well, apart from being a woman; most of the scary story mutants were men, if it was mentioned. He pulled his eyes away and started at the floor once he noticed he was staring. He could almost convince himself he wasn't blushing. Staring was rude, even if it was really logical. Really, fangs? The stripes could maybe be tattoos, but fangs?

Cara's question distracted him and he looked back up at the menu. "Um...." Persi didn't feel like copying her exactly, but orange did sound good. And his brain was still a bit busy running in circles over other things. "Is the orange smoothie good too?"

"Or absorb them and turn them into something else. Fireworks, maybe." Those were pretty explosion related, but not exactly explosions. Except how they were, but far away... whatever. Fireworks. Fun to create.

The center of the maze was... nice. Not really what Persi had expected from a maze, but then the only ones he'd ever gone through were Halloween corn mazes, so his expectations might be a little off. Only, um.... "So... if they only bloom by night... why are they blooming?" Persi was still pretty sure he really didn't want to offend TNT Kaitlyn, but the question seemed... kind of obvious. Which probably meant he was missing something, so she could just blame the question on him being stupid instead of rude.

"They're growing really well, it looks like." That might have been a good thing to add before he questioned her intelligence. More distraction was needed. "What are the others?"

"Telepathy would be cool." Also potentially traumatizing, considering what was actually in many peoples' minds. Persi heard enough just from what some people said; knowing what they thought would be more than he wanted. But it would be much cooler than just making thoughts sticky.

"Maybe you'll be able to throw them. Or make a chain of explosions." Okay, so Persi couldn't think of much other than 'explode in different places' for her, either. "Or suppress explosions. Absorb them and store them for later, or just delay them for a while so they can ambush people."

"There are probably a few. Maybe they hang around the princesses. There are fairytales, we're just in the wrong place." And the wrong people, at least in Persi's case, but that was probably connected to being in the wrong place. Which was the cause of the other was less clear, though.

"Nice to meet you too." Automatic, though meeting her had at least not been unpleasant. So it wasn't like it was a lie.

"Not really." Wandering in random parks, he supposed, but that probably wasn't what she meant. "I didn't have anything to do, so I started walking, and ended up here.... That's prettymuch it." Also, he'd forgotten he told her he was drawing angels. Hopefully she wouldn't ask to see.

Three-step Self Improvement!

Persi didn't like books much. Unless they were art books, which got a pass, because they were art. He was especially unfond of nonfiction books. Fiction wasn't particularly bad, he only avoided it because there were better things that he could be doing with the time. Nonfiction books... were boring. Boring enough for Persi to dislike them.

That did not, of course, mean that he never read them. Among other things, there was an aunt who insisted on giving him (and everyone else, to be fair) self help books every year for his birthday, and who would ask enough questions that he had to read them. Mostly he tried to forget what he read, but some things stuck.

Step one: Identify your problems.

That was actually easy. Persi had no real trouble identifying what was wrong with him. The problem he had with that step was mostly in remembering all the things wrong with him. It wasn't that he forgot and thought something was right, it was just that he forgot things even existed. He really needed to stop doing that.

He had some ideas, though. Another book had talked about the various forms of learning, visual and tactile and whatever. Persi figured that, being an artist, he was probably a visual learner, and just thinking things to himself wasn't really enough for him to learn them. So he'd collected enough printer paper, waited until lunch, and snuck to an out of the way bathroom. His stomach was protesting slightly, but taping the paper in an arch around the mirror was enough of a distraction. (And really, what school had full length mirrors in the bathrooms? Didn't they get broken?)

With that done he stood so he was centered in the oval, and pulled out a marker. One of those cheap, washable kids' markers, like elementary schools had. It wasn't like he was using it for art, after all. But it was bright, teacher's pen red, and that was what counted.

First problem: he was a mutant. Persi was pretty sure that wasn't fixable, but it was a problem. So he bent down, and drew a large, red oval around himself, on the paper. Well, most of an oval; the bottom was cut off at the bottom of the mirror, but close enough.

Second problem... he was not nearly strong enough. Not that strength was something he ought to need, really, at least not in any way he associated with it, but he ought to have it. That took longer; he had to pull his shirt off, and trace the lines (gaps) between muscles. Which pointed out another; that was very definitely fat covering some of the muscles. Not much, and he was pretty sure he was normally lectured on being too skinny, but still. Fat. That was colored red too.

Third... well, fourth problem. Persi wasn't athletic. He ought to be a football player... well, maybe baseball. He couldn't exactly control his height, after all, and baseball was more forgiving. He had to think a moment before he settled on tracing the insides of his fingers, that ought to be calloused (differently, anyway) and holding a bat.

It went from there. Freckles. Bland colored eyes, so he colored in his eyelids. The roots of his hair, which he really needed to dye again, though he settled for just coloring what was obvious. Not smart enough. Not motivated enough, either; he was technically living on his own now, so why didn't he have a job yet? Why hadn't he had a job before? Not religious enough, didn't pray enough. Acne. He didn't have to shave enough. Clumsy. Selfish. Not brave enough; coward. His mouth was too large and his jaw was too small. Bad memory. Rude, bratty, immature. Lazy. By the time he finished his entire body was covered in interlocking blocks and lines of red. He ought to have colored solidly, technically, but then he wouldn't have been able to see the different sections, so he left bits of clear skin between. His face had an arch on his forehead, triangles on his cheeks, and a dozen other, smaller shapes filling in the pieces. Symmetrical, thankfully.

That didn't quite seem to cover it all, though. Persi imagined himself with all of that fixed, and... there was still something wrong. Not enough, too much; wrong. He couldn't think of any piece that it might be, but it still took a while to figure out the answer, and he bent to add another red arch on the paper. Him.

There. That was probably close to covering it all.

Step two: Think of a way to solve your problem. It doesn't need to be instantaneous, and could require multiple steps.

Well, he could get a job. And work extra hard to make up for when he didn't have one, maybe just get two. And study more. And... he didn't think he could make himself stop loving art, but maybe he could pretend he didn't. Pretend that medicine was art. Being a doctor would probably be good enough; maybe a surgeon. Working to pay for medical school and studying to pass it would probably be working hard enough. It seemed impossible, so it must be. Acne... well, when he had a job, he could buy some of those anti-acne soaps. That was probably okay. And he could redye his hair then, too.

He couldn't think of how to solve his memory, or immaturity, or mouth or jaw or selfishness. He realized he was glaring, and drew in red underlines for his eyebrows. He didn't know how to solve his temper, either. Meditation? He'd already tried that, he couldn't.

Step three: Whatever solution you come up with, stick with it. Don't let yourself give up!

Persi growled, tore the paper down, and threw it in the trash in frustration. It wasn't working. There was too much wrong, he just wasn't fixable. Or at least he didn't have the....

...Fine. Persi went back, and figured out a line to add for not being patient enough. A circle on the back of his wrist, like a watch. Then he left. He was too frustrated to think, which was another problem, but probably already covered by anger, laziness or stupidity. It needed to be fixed, but it stopped him from fixing anything, so for now the only practical (not the good, but he couldn't be good, so he'd try for practical) thing to do was try to calm down until he could think through some of these. He headed toward the doors. It was still way too hot outside, but there was a forest; there had to be a tree that could be climbed somewhere in there. Maybe even one with pinecones.