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The volume of the television was so high that Clyde did not notice that someone else had entered the room. That is, until he spotted someone when he took a casual glance at the window.

It had to be Weird-Haired Artist Jerk.

Clyde remained seated, but he didn't take his eyes off of him. He found it odd that the guy hadn't said a word or even acknowledged him yet. Apparently, he was too absorbed in his drawing, as usual. Considering that they argued whenever they met, Clyde didn't want to be anywhere near him. Leaving might have been a simple solution, but this time, Clyde was there first. He wasn't going anywhere.

“You. Go away,” he demanded, giving the other teen a stern look.

Being called a brat was getting so old; WHAJ used it so much. Yet, it stung every time. No matter how much he fought against it, the label still stuck. He had zero control over it.

“Fine, jerk, since I 'annoy' you just by talking, I'll leave,” Clyde growled. Leaving felt like losing, but, unfortunately, there was no way to reason with him. He headed toward the doorway in a huff. Before exiting, he turned back one last time. “By the way, you could go find the biggest cliff you can and jump off of it fo all I care.”

Clyde felt Andrea place her hand on his shoulder. He did not normally let people try to console him like that, but he didn't have it in him to push her hand away. She was right; this was probably worlds better than the streets.

Part of him was too troubled to even think about sleeping. But, it was late. He was tired. His feet were sore. And, like Andrea said, the next day was going to be hectic. Resting was a necessity. Since there were spare rooms...

“I guess you could show me to one,” Clyde answered. He quickly finished the last of the cookie.

Clyde's face was red with fury. The most infuriating part about this was that Clyde still couldn't figure out why this guy treated him the way he did. What was he gaining? Why did he continue drawing as if the argument meant nothing?

“Sounds like yo too enthralled in yo stupid ahtwork to give a damn about what people think,” Clyde growled, his hands clinched tighter than ever. The only thing preventing him from punching WHAJ in the face was the fact that a fistfight between them would be heavily one-sided. “I happen to mind it when people insult me. A lot of othah people do to, but you must be dumb enough to not figuh it out.”

Listening, Clyde took another cookie. It couldn't have been easy being forced to hide, just because she looked different. It was a sad fact of life that people who were somehow different were not well accepted and became outcasts of society.

It occurred to Clyde how little he knew about his own condition. He could age shift, and there was that other factor he hated. A little sad, Clyde looked at his small hands. He wasn't supposed to be that way.

“I guess I have my own questions,” he said uncertainly, still staring at his hands.

Andrea said the school provided answers. Would the school be able to help him solve this?

Clyde couldn't glare any harder at Carrick. That wasn't whining! Whining was for real little kids. In reality, Griff/Carrick/whatever his true name was could have dropped him when he threw him midair. The flying mutant must have forgotten that other people don't fly – they fall. Apparently, this Kai person was the poor unfortunate former roommate. Heh, maybe he, whoever he was, got fed up with Birdbrain and left. The Mansion staff couldn't be serious about having them room together. Rooming with him didn't seem to do those poor plants much good. Overall, Birdbrain irritated him greatly.

“Uh-huh...” Clyde grumbled in response. “Excuse me fo a minute.”

He went into the bathroom and shut the door. Yech, this room was DISGUSTING. Just like the bedroom.

So Birdbrain liked to treat him like a kid? Well, Clyde was going to show him that he wasn't a kid.

A little more than a minute later, the door flew open. Clyde emerged, now in his teenaged form (and clothes, of course). He marched right up to Carrick, now a lot closer to him in height.

“Let me explain something to you, idiot. I don't like people talking down to me. So stop it,” he firmly demanded.

Clyde wasn't really counting on getting any respect from this guy, but it was something that he felt like he had to say when he looked like an equal.

Clyde shook his head in disbelief. “How did you plan on finding yo friend if you refuse to go inside? Expect huh to happen to be wandering the grounds like me?” He found this almost funny, in a way, but refrained from laughing.

As far as Clyde knew, the Mansion staff didn't mind if random people came in, as long as they behaved themselves, of course. Even though Sylar looked scary, there wasn't anything about him that was screaming hostility. Then again, Clyde didn't know Sylar all that well. He didn't have any reason to insist that Sylar came inside, so he was going to respect his decision regardless.