2014-08-16 Something Atypical
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: N/A
Players: Drake, Cara
GMed by Who GMed?
Title: Something Atypical

Drake didn't see Cara yesterday. He was busy doing things, training, and generally being a busy-body. But after some snooping, he found out which room belongs to Cara. And so, in short order, there's a knocking on her door. Drake waits patiently outside, his left hand set behind his back.

With a pained groan, Cara gets up from her desk and moves over towards the door, pressing her ear against the wood she calls out, "Who is it?" And not in a sing song voice, but simply.

Drake, the very image of pleasant patience, just offers back a simple, "Drake."

"Drake. Drake who?" Cara responds, teasing slightly but also trying to buy some time as she moves back over to her desk to close her laptop and slide her materials into the provided desk before the young mutant can enter. She's rather shy about these things and never had a boy in her room, much less since she's become a mutant who has encounters with demonspawn in New York City.

"Y'know, you never asked for my last name," Drake mentions on the other side of the door. "It's Vyril. Congrats on being the first student to know that. C'mon, lemme in! It's cold out here~!," he dramatizes.

"You never asked mine." Cara retorts honestly, and there's still some rustling in the background of stuff being shuffled around. "Col- What're you naked or something?!" She teases as she swings the door open and gives a playful frown as she looks down to Drake's clothes. "Ahh, poo." The girl jokes, sounding chipper than she has for the past day really.

Drake blinks at the follow-up question. When the door swings open, he braces himself, eyes widened. At her 'disappointment', a sly smile edges over his lips. "Just wait 'til we do the pool thing. It's not a full monty, but it's most of one." Following a playful wink, he moves his hidden hand to the fore, presenting her with a tall glass vase, wherein is contained an exotic, brightly-colored flower. "You said you've never been flirted with, so I figured it should be done the right way. Still, you're not a typical girl, so you don't get a typical flower."

Cara whoas. "That's." She says semi-speechless. "This is way too much Drake." She says, pulling the vase into her hands and holding it so the flower is up to her nose and she lets the scent float into her nose. "Oh, this is amazing." She says, moving backwards to sit on her bed while still holding the glass, enjoying the coolness in her hands. She falls silent and looks at the vase and flower, feeling somber from last night still.

Drake lingers at the doorframe, not about to invite himself in. With a boyish smile, he shakes his head, those persistent bangs of his wafting. "Not at all. There's some catching up to do in the romance department of your life. I'd say that right there is about where it should be."

"How long have you gone to this school?" Cara asks, looking up, the vase begins to change shape in her hands idly. Almost as if it was a pillar of living water, moving and rippling.

"Uh.. week or two, I guess. Classes are only /just/ starting, though." Drake tilts aside to prop himself on the doorframe, arms folding casually over his chest. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you already know how to stand up for yourself?" Cara asks, looking even more sharply at Drake's green eyes, the vase's edges and points getting a bit more exaggerated due to her emotions.

"You mean, without my powers? Sure. I've gotten into plenty of scraps in my old 'hood. And I've actually started working out, so I could take a punk down if they tried." Beat. "Also, I killed a bunch'a crazy homicidal robots, too. So that has to count for something, right?" Drake's expression loses a little of its mirth as concern grows behind those eyes. "Why do you ask, anyway?"

Cara looks away, mostly downwards as the vase is brought to her attention and she makes the spikes return inward. "I've done nothing but stand and cry the last few times bad things have happened around me." She whispers, "I'm tired of being useless." She mutters louder than her previous thought.

Drake leans off the doorframe and straightens his posture. "I've not been formerly trained or anything, but I can try to help you out with that, if you want. Show you how to punch something and work with ya to be mentally prepared when something goes down." His hands link together before himself, and he leans forward. "You can maybe even use that power of yours. But I'd wanna go over the basics first."

Cara balks, moving forward and putting the vase beside her bed, "Maybe another time, I'm almost certain there will be a class for that." She says, not wanting to get hurt or hurt someone else at this moment. Also she doesn't feel like being too close to anyone right now.

"Oh, well, I didn't mean right /now/," Drake explains, taken a little off-guard. But he's quick to add a playful, "You're always so pushy!" The grin he wears will hopefully indicate he's not being serious, at least. "Anyway, uh, I guess I should take off and let you get back to whatever you were doing."

"Thank you." Cara says hopefully he catches the drift, "Drake." She puts in after a moment then smiles as she looks up to the mutant.

Drake believes he does, though his mutant ability isn't empathy. He's limited strictly to human levels. So he simply nods with a warm smile. "Any time." And with that, he eases back and tugs her door shut for her, giving her privacy.

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