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... Was someone he had to tell about his mutation finally not going to ask more about it or obsess over how 'cool' it was to be able to make snow?

Evidently he needed to spend more time with guys. Thinking back, it was really all the girls who went crazy. Best to avoid them for the foreseeable future, then.

Given the enormous gift that was Clyde's lack of interest, Aiden really ought to do his best to help him out. The clear solution to that was to continue the trail he was on and get him some clothing that fit properly. From the sound of it, this was a more-or-less regular occurrence and there would be correctly sized clothing to be found without significant difficulty in his room. With a brief nod to show that he understood, Aiden pivoted and worked his way out of the library. Fourth on the right, fourth on the right.... Not far from his and Persi's room, then, though he didn't really recall seeing Clyde around much before. He didn't keep the most usual of hours, though, and did generally make a point of not interacting a great deal with his neighbours.

Reaching the dorm hallway and turning appropriately, Aiden quickly found the fourth door on the right and knocked quietly before he could think about what he was doing at all. A kindness for a kindness, and no one was answering. That was really reassuring. Glancing sideways to ensure the hallway was empty, he turned the knob and hesitantly stepped inside. The room was empty and disturbingly similar to his own. He quickly found kid-sized clothing, grabbed the usual range of garments, and booked it.

There were still a couple of snowflakes clinging to his hair, marring the black with their stubborn whiteness, when he returned to Clyde. He held out the clothes. "Will this work for you?"

As stressful as the current situation was, the drastic change in Liz's mood made a distinct impression on Aiden. With a moment to calm down, he could see the difference in the amount of snow in the air already. Okay. The snow was going away. He could deal with that. He just had to breathe and consider this rationally before Liz left still upset. Making people upset was bad.

So. Snow. He had already consciously accepted that he made it snow in small amounts and under certain, heretofore unknown conditions. He was cool with that, right? As much as he could be, all things considered. So, was there really a problem here? He couldn't agree with Liz's methods, but the autopsy thing must have just been a joke he'd taken too seriously. This was just the way she was. Some people were like that.

Okay. Time to panic was over. A few deep breaths and everything would be fine.

... That didn't usually work, but apparently his internal pep talk thing had kicked enough rationality and reason into the rest of him and so booted out the whole panicky thing. Okay.

"Wait." He took another breath as he stepped away from the wall. Not much, but a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean - I... I don't do well with, well, new stuff." He went to shove his hands into his pockets, only to remember he was wearing shorts and didn't have any. He awkwardly folded his hands behind him instead, distantly enjoying the feeling of not sweaty skin for once. He could find good things to this with just a little effort.

Okay. Snow was tapering off. Might even not be appearing anymore, just drifting around still. "You don't have to go. I... just need time. To get used to things." He pushed a bit of snow around with a toe.

It was hard to tell if he were getting more tolerant of the heat or sort of just floating along in a perpetual haze of borderline heat exhaustion occasionally wandering to the heat exhaustion-heat stroke border instead. The only upside was that the random bursts of snow were getting a bit more common and almost always coming up at least a little during Cafas' lessons, so at least he was managing to be physically active outside without dying.

He wasn't really a fan of dying, after all.

But anyway. It had been insanely awkward to go to Cafas' second lesson, what with how things had turned out at the end of the first, but things were settling down, at least for Aiden. So long as no one made a big deal out of anything, everyone could just move along and not make all of this more emotionally hideous than it could already be, and he could at least internally enjoy some of what was going on.

Not the fighting part. The thought that Cafas was eventually going to want him to hit someone was horrifying. He was still working on some way of actually getting out of that. He had had absolutely no success thus far, and feared he wouldn't have a plan by the time Cafas reached that point. Or just got fed up with something and went after him like he had to Persi before all this had started. Aiden really didn't want to attract that kind of attention.

Sometimes, though, it was hard to pay complete attention to what he was doing when he was also trying to find ways to stop the snow thing just after cold air - which was very nice, however it worked - before it made it to snow that would actually get in the way. Cafas' water breaks were nowhere near long enough to shut it down, though if he wasn't careful he could apparently outrun the cold air or something. That was a horrible experience, stepping from his nice personally-air-conditioned spot into the full heat of the summer. He only did it once; now he made sure he kept his water rather closer. Saved a bit more time for letting the snow start to melt too.

Cafas' jibe about Aiden's flexibility and his own identity as a lobster had Ai flushing; Cafas had, of course, picked really the one shot where he had been distracted by an irregular clump of snow in an interesting shape. Being watched while he did this was bad enough; he really didn't need to be mocked or critiqued about it too.

.... okay, the combo thing was entirely his fault. He didn't have the faintest clue when he'd slipped and started on the new, inappropriate order, but switching back was annoying and took too much concentration. Better than the alternatives, anyway, and at least he wasn't feeling too tired. Yet. Stopping for the day never seemed to go well when the weird white thing happened, if it happened all the way.

Aiden's hopes, tiny and undernourished though they were, quickly caught fire and were instantly consumed in the despair of his continued entrapment and torture. Was escape really too much to ask for?

Maybe full escape was... but did she really just say she was giving up on making him run? Really and truly?

Nope. Way too good to be true.

He was a little slow on the first poke, feeling his shirt shift with the pressure before he twisted out of the way. There was no rest for the miserable, though, and Liz showed no signs of letting up. There was nothing to do but dodge, sidestep, avoid, duck - and almost win a limbo contest when she went for his hair, of all things, but then she was insane so he really shouldn't be surprised. Other than that first near-hit, he seemed to be managing pretty well, though he didn't have the time, breath, or concentration to try to figure out what exactly was going through Liz's messed up brain to be doing this.

Then the dog joined in. Apparently this horror looked fun.

Oh hey, now he could see the snow. From the looks of it, it had been going for a while. Oof- hit and drooled on by the dog. Distraction was bad. He had to focus more on his footing, though, since the snow was starting to cling to things and his footing wasn't exactly perfect anymore. He pivoted sharply around some obscure music-related device, found his foot slipping sideways, and twisted his descent into a backwards roll over one shoulder at the last second. He earned himself a spare moment with the increased distance and caught a surprisingly large snowflake on a fingertip, amazed despite himself and the situation.

... then the snowflake didn't melt, and then he noticed that his finger was white. And his hand. And he sleeve. And most of his legs.

He may have stopped paying attention to Liz at that.

Liz's logic was entirely lost on Aiden. He didn't care if there was space or a lack of obstacles because he was not going to run. It was already too late for there to be a lack of people, since Liz was already present. And he really had nothing to go on but her word on the so-called scientific fact about music rooms and temperatures, though he suspected that a walk-in freezer would be of rather lower measurable temperature. He didn't really spend enough time in music rooms to evaluate the perceived temperature (not like it would help much now) and he really did not want to change that.

What the hell was she trying to do now? He backstepped as quick as he could, but Liz moving forward was faster than him moving backwards. And easier to dodge obstacles; stepping on the edge of a music stand and jabbing himself in the leg with it kind of slowed him down a bit. Snatching his scarred arm away was much easier though, since he did have maybe six inches on the girl. "Are you insane?" he asked, not sure if his tone should be enraged or plaintive. He had a bit of both, just in case, but the enraged was so rusty it kind of fell into dust on the way. The plaintive wasn't in much better shape by the time it escaped, to be honest.

With a quick glance behind him to see where he could go, Aiden sidestepped Liz, his arm and his accessible scar (assuming she didn't notice the one on his face or realize that the one on his arm ran all the way to his collarbone, which was rather harder to put out of reach) well out of reach. "If there was something that bubbled up to heal me - which makes no sense at all - it would work all the time," he protested, glancing behind him again to dodge around the piano. "It doesn't. It's only happened the once." He had a horrible feeling that telling Liz he had been unconscious at the time, possibly excepting a few seconds, would turn out insanely bad for him.

He might just be saved by the handful of flakes starting to drift around him, but he was too busy to noti-

No, wait. They were gone. Aiden had missed seeing Rufus behind him and tripped over him. He nearly succeeded in recreating his awareness level during his last healing episode too, but he saved his skull from meeting the floor a little too much. Shoulder and hip not so much, but he'd live. Hopefully.

Run like a girl? Aiden shared some of his blank confusion with Liz for a moment. "Uh... no... I just don't like running near people." Why would he run like a girl? And if he somehow did, since he would probably know about it, wouldn't he have already worked to fix the issue and thus no longer run like a girl?

He should have taken the comment as his chance to escape, though, because there wasn't even time to draw breath between her next flurry of words and her grabbing his arm and literally dragging him off. At least the dog was coming too, right?

Surely there was some way out of this? He probably couldn't outrun her, assuming he somehow managed to break her grip, given his current condition and the fact that that was what she wanted anyway, so of course she'd do her best to keep up. Outrunning the dog was almost certainly out of the question. He didn't feel like getting tackled by a dog. So... that left enduring? That was... not the most pleasant forecast he had ever had to face. Not by a long shot.

So... what was going on? Why did Liz need a flute, or whatever that was? He had very carefully kept himself out of band classes in school, so he was wary of trying to say what it was for certain. Oh hey, not-heat-ness! Hm. It would be nice if he could actually feel cold, instead of this weird and frequently dangerous system of "snow isn't melting" or "how fast is the snow melting." Although, to be specific, this was still in the melting range, just low enough that he could handle it without issue. Why did there have to be so many people hogging the cool air?

Wait wait wait wait NO. What were they doing in a... music room? He was fairly sure this was a music room. It matched anime and manga music rooms. He did not want to be in a music room. At all. Ever. Just no. No no no no no. He backed away from Liz. "I'm not running in here," he protested. Music rooms made people do musically things in front of people. That was the whole point of music, to perform. He was not going to perform anything for anyone!

Oh good. Random people not dying was much better than the alternative. He was extremely surprised to find himself to be the one less uncomfortable with the situation, though. Seeing young-Clyde's face pale with fear made him feel really, really awkward very quickly, and he shifted nervously. Maybe he should have stayed where he was and not tried to satisfy his concerns about future guilt and other people's well being. He could live with it, couldn't he? It seemed a bit better than this right now...

It simplified things nicely when young-Clyde got a hold of himself with a deep breath. Deep breaths were good in unpleasant situations, at least as long as the unpleasantness was not related to anything nasty in the air. More breathing was probably not a good idea then.

He found himself scratching the back of his neck at young-Clyde's admission. "At least you can do half of something with it," he said drily, feeling surprisingly confident in the position of less-uncomfortable-person. "I mean, I made it un-hot for maybe two seconds on the way here. I should have counted, because I think that's my record for this week. It's random and nothing at all happens when I try." Clyde's mutation hated him? Well, at least it recognized his existence.