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Aiden was a little surprised at how many artistic people he kept coming across here. In his normal school and town, no one really ever admitted to drawing or anything at all. Doodling in boredom during class was one thing, but having art supplies wasn't something people talked about.

Logically, he knew that she was right. A month wasn't really all that much. Of course, that was part of the problem, wasn't it? It wasn't anywhere near enough time to soften anything that had happened. He'd really rather not add more time to his aftermath stockpile, but he knew full well that wasn't going to happen. There was no turning back on things like this, no undoing them and pretending they had never happened. He was sticking as close to pretending none of it had happened as he possibly could already, and all it was doing was help him avoid staring the monstrosity in the face.

He also didn't want to spend any more time in this particular place than he already had, but it was better than the alternative. At least no one stared at him and compared things with how they had been here; no one had known him before this, and so they tended to leave things alone better. As for making friends with any of those people.... well. Aiden did his best to keep his expression bland as he struggled to find a polite response. "I'm... not a people person," he said slowly. He blinked slightly at her smile and tried to figure out if she had been trying to make a joke about the sheer awkwardness of the situation. Probably not; he couldn't be that transparent about how uncomfortable talking to some random stranger in the middle of the night in a place like this made him feel, and she didn't appear to be uncomfortable herself.

The overly-cheerful girl's smile faltered a bit, and Aiden felt a small pang of regret. He hadn't meant to be rude or upset her. It wasn't like he was particularly good company, though, and it really wasn't in her best interest to be around him, but telling her to leave now wasn't likely to work, or it might but while being very rude, which wasn't much of an option even now.

Cool beans. People said that? Really? Maybe it was just Alice. Some people were weird with the turns of phrase they used. What did it really matter, though? So she had an unusual speech pattern. She was hardly difficult to understand. Her request was more than clear enough to get him shifting in his seat slightly and drawing a thumb across the page edges. "A deer," he said slowly, not sure what she would think of it, not sure if he cared, and not sure if either caring about her reaction or telling her and getting to see the reaction was worth the effort. "There's a prophecy about a deer, born with a white mark on his forehead like an oak leaf. There's a coup in his herd the night he's born, and the new stag in power is very superstitious. He ends up wandering all over Scotland trying to find the truth of the prophecy, the story behind the villain, and make sense of his place in the world."

Story described as best he could, given his general enthusiasm for, well, everything, Ai sat back a little and waited for her reaction. Not everyone liked stories about animals. Fire Bringer had only a couple of human characters altogether, and they didn't hang around for long. It wasn't their world, and the world was dark enough without them. Struggles for power existed regardless of the species - singular or plural - involved. Someone always wanted to be on top, and would sacrifice whoever got in their way to get there.

Aiden didn't resist Cafas' manipulations. He barely even noticed the way his fingers dug into his flesh with enough force that he'd probably end up bruising, though a small part of him did try to comment darkly about having just sat down, on Cafas' orders, so why did he have to get up already?

However removed from the environment he was, though, his calves and feet did twitch slightly as soon as there was a clear route to the door. A vicious sort of logic descended on the movement before he could so much as shift his weight, though: even if he ran, no amount of physical running was going to get him any farther away from what he wanted to flee, from what he had really trying to get away from all this time. No matter where he went, how long he ran for, he would still carry it with him. His guilt wasn't some physical torment to be left behind with the first corner turned.

In the end, just letting Cafas push him around was easier. It probably wasn't safe for him to be making any decisions himself anyway, come to think of it. Things went bad enough when he was just involved. How much worse would they be if he were actually in charge of something? Head lowered, as if staring at the ground even though he couldn't be bothered to see it, he was in the middle of letting himself be packed into the taxi when a car ambled past in the other lane. For a moment, even in the sunlight its headlights caught the taxi's windshield and he flinched at the glare. It was just a taxi, with an experienced, New York-competent driver. If he kept to himself, nothing would happen.

With Cafas on one side and Persi and the pizza on the other, Aiden sat in a bent-shouldered huddle, elbows and knees tucked in as close as they could be. The less space he took up, the less likely he was to make things go wrong. Even if Persi was annoying at times, and Cafas was dragging him off to remedial gym - probably not anymore, though, which was really for the best - he didn't want them getting hurt or killed on his account. He drew himself in a little more, and hoped that the cab driver could handle anything that went wrong because of him.

So, for the past... however many months since reading week, I've known that I need to take my computer in to get the cd drive realigned, because as-is it really doesn't eject cds at all.

Since rl people know I need to do this and also know I haven't done it, because I greatly dislike being without my computer for any length of time, comments on my procrastination are beginning >.> The warranty also runs out in early august, so I do kind of need to do it sooner rather than later. Point being, I'm aiming to drop it off after work today, after which I will lurk horribly and moan and complain on my phone and possibly my parents' desktop. Posting will be slow and typo-ridden, but still a little possible, until my computer is done in (hopefully) a day or two.

Assuming I can actually make myself let go of it >.>

In long-term hindsight, Aiden might eventually realize that there was no way he could achieve such a positive mood without something extra nasty following after it.

As yet unconcerned, though confused, Aiden started on the first slice of his pizza. Definitely a good amount of cheese. Melted through, no cold pizza lurking underneath, and plenty to ooze all over his tongue. Cheese was excellent, especially when present in such quantity, quality, and variety as it was here.

He had almost made it to the crust when Cafas joined in on the weird snow thing. What was going on? The probability that both of them were delusional - and imagining the same thing - was theoretically negligible. If they couldn't both be imagining it... Some kind of joke? Why would Persi work with Cafas to play a joke on him? It was pretty clear that Persi didn't like Cafas, much less enjoy his company enough to plot mischief. It didn't make any sense.

And, if it were a joke, Cafas wouldn't have offered such a plausible alternative - except Persi's story negated it, if true. The danger room wouldn't be affecting the weather this far away, with no other signs. Aiden's faint frown deepened, a niggling worm at the back of his mind really not liking the way things were headed. There was no way - Aiden peered at Persi's proffered arm. "There's nothing there," he said, inordinately relieved, when Persi lowered his arm. See, it was nothing.

Aiden swallowed and lowered the last quarter of his pizza slice, an unfamiliar chill clogging up his stomach. Persi... was right. Sticking things in people's heads was about as unrelated to snow as things could get; it was well within the range of 'it's all unrelated, and any more unrelated makes absolutely no difference anymore.' Cafas... metal stuff was also thoroughly unrelated to snow.

But not getting cold-

Not snow. Anything but snow.

ANYTHING but snow. He'd take... he'd take setting people on fire with a glance, or exploding anything he touched, or... or turning into a pile of steaming, stinky pus that shot neon rainbow lasers! Anything!

Anything. Please.

His gaze flicked between Cafas and Persi, silently begging them to come out and laugh, say it was just some joke. A prank. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Not being able to breathe - that was real. Every attempt to force air into his lungs, or let it out, met with vicious resistance. Swallowing was useless against the pressure. The remains of his pizza finally dropped back into the box, and he withdrew his fingers to clench them with his other hand in his lap. Digging his nails into the skin of his knuckles did precisely nothing. He could hardly even feel it.

If he made it snow...

He tightened his fist until every muscle in his arm twitched and jumped. NO. No. No. It wasn't true, couldn't be true. It was all some big joke, and any minute one of them would break out and laugh at him for taking it seriously. Any minute. Any moment.

Please.

Because if it wasn't a joke...

then he...

killed Conri.

The pressure in his chest leapt upwards and added its relentless grip to his throat. Unable to draw breath, not seeing Cafas or Persi or the boxes of pizza or the table or the other people in the store, he pushed himself to his feet.

He couldn't.

Couldn't have, couldn't believe it, couldn't take it, couldn't stay here-

He couldn't.

Potentially too much cheese? "I doubt 'too much' cheese is really possible," he said absently. "Final answer." How much cheese could possibly be too much? Ten times as much cheese as crust? That would be a lot of cheese, but what ended up in each bite probably wouldn't actually make it to ten times, so while it might be a waste, it still wouldn't really be too much. They'd have to change how they cooked it too, for that much cheese. It would be no good to burn the pizza trying to get all the cheese to melt, or to have the rest of the pizza perfectly cooked but leave half the cheese cold and hard. Maybe heat the cheese separately to get it started, and then add it on? Or add the cheese in layers? That could work well if there were different kinds of cheese.

The size of the tip Cafas left reminded him about just how much money he made with that stupid movie; at least they paid well for torturing people and ruining their reputations. Following Cafas and Persi to the table, he greatly appreciated that, at the very least, Persi had ticked off someone with money enough to drag them both into this remedial gym, even if the actual stuff he had to do now really wasn't all that bad. Reputably excellent pizza from someone with more than enough money to not think twice at the cost. Seeing as how Aiden probably had all of three bucks or something... yeah.

"I didn't know you could make it snow."

Aiden blinked. Then blinked again, and stared at Persi, thoroughly confused. "What are you talking about?" he asked. What was he going on about now? Had he somehow managed to hit his head on the way here or something, and was delusional now and seeing things? Although snow, in June. Really.