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Was it less warm? Aiden glanced at Sam, but it wasn't like he changed colour when messing with temperature. Although that would be nice for the people who otherwise wouldn't notice. Like Aiden.

And then wow did Sam unload. This was over-dramatic drama novel level unload.

If it had been a book he was reading, Aiden still wouldn't have been sure how to react.

Also: this would be why Sam drank so much, and so often. Not that he agreed with it, but it certainly made sense. In an unpleasant way.

Quiet through Sam's outburst, Aiden didn't even get to enjoy the absence of heat before it returned and he actually noticed it had gone.

"I don't meant it's worse than what other people have gone through," Aiden eventually said, slowly but not weakly. "Or that it's special to anyone else. It's just what I'm dealing with, and I haven't figured out how to do that yet."

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"Wait, is that why I'm not hot?" Aiden stared. At Bailey. He stared at him like he had never stared at anyone before. The oh-cool-you're-a-mutant part skimmed right on past his attention, and he stared.

He shut off powers.

The part of him that was so incredibly tired of always being on the edge of heat stroke was outright jubilant. If his snowdancing were at all mental (and he weren't within Bailey's range, however far that was) there'd be a solid white-out blizzard around them already.

A different part of him was very, very concerned about the safety and security implications of running into unknown people who could wipe out mutant abilities. More for some mutants or situations than others, but his own ability to heal was just that, an ability. It had saved his life before. Could he not rely on it like he'd thought he could? In the limited situations it was active, anyway.

...

Could timely application of a null ability interrupt the trainwreck of exhaustion that so loved to put him into a minicoma after every training session?

"Mutants can still discriminate against other mutants," Aiden said slowly, and rather absently as his brain spun with ideas and concerns. "If not for looking like a mutant, then for usefulness of powers, or religion or culture or whatever." No, separating into a new society based on only one trait wouldn't solve conflict. It would probably just make it harder to deal with.

He gave his head a little shake and drew in a fresh breath. "I make snow. Through movement, not like most of the elemental powers I've come across. And I don't feel cold... but I overheat way before most people instead." And no he was not demonstrating in the middle of damn Central Park. "Snow heals me too, so it does kind of balance out. Sometimes. Not so much in summer down here..."

"There's no reason to have heard of it. Small town with nothing going on." Only reason he'd ever go back was to visit one specific grave, and in all honesty he was still afraid to. Or more afraid. There was suspecting that the people you grew up around thought you were one of the worst monsters to ever walk the planet, and... then there was knowing that they did.

At least he hadn't liked them to begin with. So there was that.

"Alaska is supposed to be cold, but I was only around people who weren't used to it in the summer. They did still complain a bit." Aiden leaned back and tentatively considered trying to relax in the warmth-that-wasn't-hot. Who knew when it might go away? "I was there for... work, I guess. Not that I really get paid for it." He had never had a job, technically speaking, if getting paid was a requirement. If not, then being an X was definitely his job. He certainly approached it seriously enough.

On....tario? Canada? It took Aiden a few moments to connect the name with the kind of closeish chunk of a country he'd never visited. Flown over twice, yes, but a very different part of it. It would have been easier if it weren't a different country, and he wouldn't had to deal with any more airplanes.

Definitely not a fan of airplanes. At least trains you could kind of get up and walk around without people staring at you.

And the tiny planes in Alaska.

Dear God.

Never again, please.

Oh, more questions about Alaska. Uh. "I was in the middle of a bunch of really big mountains, so there was... a lot of snow. Zero way to travel kind of a lot of snow. And a lot of ice."

Okay, okay. He felt like he was cooling down now, so he just had to put up with the social weirdness for a bit and he'd be okay. No heat stroke today. Not out in the city, where no one knew to just throw him in a freezer basically. Or let Sam experiment with how long he could get the temperature before Aiden noticed.

Still hadn't found a lower limit to that...

Aiden took a careful breath and forced his hands to his lap... where they proceeded to fiddle a little bit with the handles of the bags half-crushed between his legs where no one could swipe them. Not after all he'd gone through to get them.

Socializing. Right.

"I, uh, I just needed a break. I don't do well with heat. And, er, this was the only spot I could find. Sorry."

This guy didn't seem to be upset in the slightest about sharing the space, but then again this was Aiden trying to read a stranger's emotional state. Not exactly a high accuracy rating to that skill.

And now she was waiting, apparently. For what? Him to talk more? He'd gone and dug himself a deeper hole, hadn't he.

On the other hand... had she not given up on him? He didn't think she was one of the people who just wanted to see other people trip up or look stupid, or to blackmail them with witness accounts of their awkward out-of-place-ness. He could be wrong, he'd been wrong before, but who knew. Maybe she actually thought there might be something vaguely worthwhile to this.

That.. wasn't new, exactly, but it wasn't common. It really wasn't something he was used to.

He should... maybe try to explain again? Was that the best course of action? It wasn't the preferable course of action but then that would just be because it involved talking. To a person. A living person. Who was st- not standing, running, same difference here, beside him.

They were still running? Maybe it really was easier to run more with other people. Compared to being musicless at least.

"I'm not good with people." Was that more of an explanation? Maybe kind of. What else could he say? What had they talked about but which had seemed to leave her confused? "If I'm awkward... um. It's not you, I guess I mean?"

Could he please please please crawl into some dark frozen hole now.

The muscles in Aiden's arms were definitely at least raising their metaphorical eyebrows at him, if at least not yet punching him for over-use. The slab was moving, though, and they just had to go a little farther. A bit more, a bit more.

And don't think about the smell -

Nope, now he was thinking about the smell. Even cow carcasses didn't smell this bad. They weren't great, but the handful he'd come across on his temporary and undesired retirement had all been well chewed before they had a chance to putrefy. Even then, though...

Aiden really was a bit of a city kid, even if he wasn't from the city, and he didn't really have a ton of direct experience with things like this.

So, once they'd set the slab down out of the way, and he'd had a chance to actually look at what they'd uncovered without thinking the glance through... Aiden went almost as pale as if he were covered in snow, if a little greener, and turned around very quickly.

Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up

Nope, she hadn't heard. Aiden sighed a little, but mostly kept it in. Another tally for the list of times he'd done this.

She didn't pry further, though, and his opinion of her rolled uphill a few notches in relief. Being prepared to explain again all at once didn't mean he wanted to. Talking was even more stressful than just being around people. Talking actually gave them things to feed on and manipulate and cling to.

As they walked, Aiden found it growing darker and reluctantly took off his sunglasses. They were away from the city workers now, for the most part, but he wasn't entirely sure how Juliette would respond. He always worried people would react poorly to his mutationally mismatched eyes, and he had heard that the silver one looked 'downright creepy' on more than one occasion.

Sure, it was mostly from young kids who were clearly awe, but not always. Sometimes it was clearly meant with disapproval and negative intent. And he'd heard it more while travelling across the country.

He was getting too far into his head again. If he did that, then he probably wouldn't even notice if he found someone, and all this clambering and peering would be completely useless.

Orrrr Juliette could find someone. Aiden swung himself over the debris immediately, for the moment reacting physically and not directly thinking about the situation. He made his way over to the glowing ball, a stray snowflake drifting here and there in his wake again, and bit his lip a bit.

Fingers indeed. Discoloured fingers, leading under a smallish (in comparison to the rest) sheet of concrete and a whole lot of debris. Aiden hesitated, but then caught his emotions and stomped them back down into the little box labelled 'Work.' This was his job today. This was part of what it meant to be an X.

"If we clear off this piece, I think the two of us can lift it," he said firmly, forcing himself to look at the concrete. One thing at a time. Each task in its place. First task would be to make this sheet as light as reasonable; second task would be to move that sheet out of the way. The city crew was busy, so if they could do this with just the two of them it would be the most efficient. Fewest manhours per obstacle.

And really, they just had to tilt it, and it wasn't that big. Definitely under a thousand pounds, probably only two hundred. And a less awkward shape than hay bales. He'd had practice on those.

That was it, just keep focusing on the task at hand. He moved carefully around where he thought the person was buried concrete slab ended, lifting smaller pieces of debris away and carefully finding stable places for them amidst the rest of the rubble.