First Assignment (Lance)

[Avalanche]

"Oh, this is cool," Lance chuckled, rather amused. He didn't mind drifting off in weird conversational directions. And this was weird enough to be good. "So you're a mutant and a Canadian, too?"

[Weaver]

ris let out a soft laugh, her eyes glittering in amusement, "I think it's more of a Canadian whose a mutant. Unless you find that the mutant gene is more important then nationality. I tend to learn more on nationality first then mutation. Granted, you won't see me having maple leaves all over my person or room," she said still amused by the conversation.

"What about you?"

[Avalanche]

"What about me what?" Lance asked. "Me and maple leaves?" He raised the collar of his jacket to sort of protect himself from the rain, although it was more of a 'well I have to do something' action rather than actually brought any result. He was still soaked, regardless of the girl's earlier help. Well, they were about to reach the building where he lived, anyway.

[Weaver]

"Iris tilted her head to the side, "No, though you don't seem the maple type," she said looking around and noticing the street and buildings were getting worst. This really wasn't a good idea as they passed a couple of prostitutes. She grimaced, she hadn't thought there was a rougher part of town but there was.

"I meant where you're from. You seem American, at least you blend in really well," she said drawing closer to the guy as a few men with guns and baggy pants passed them.

[Avalanche]

"Oh, yeah, I'm an American," Lance said. He had long figured that giving a more exact place of origin was sometimes unnecessary, sometimes dangerous. Not that he associated himself with it anymore, but he didn't want to leave more tracking points behind. His current location was New York City, this pretty much sufficed.

And this part it wasn't particularly nice, that much was true, however, he was used to it and took little notice of some things that could probably shock his prude and obviously cultured companion. How did she end up here, anyway? A topic for a later conversation, he decided.

"There we go," he stopped in front of a door to an apartment block, looking for his keys. The building looked dirty, the fact even more stressed by the presence of a pile of old rags and cardboard near the stairs that most probably meant a homeless man sleeping on the ground. "It's not a five-star hotel or anything, but you'll be spared unwanted attention, if that's what you're after."

[Weaver]

Iris could feel a pull on her instict to draw back into herself, to make the dress on her body stretch into something baggy that protected her from the street. To crawl into a corner and pretend not to exist. The feeling of homelessness, the insanity, the voices keeping her awake at night. She shook her head furiously, following Lance into an apartment block. She would never allow herself to lose herself like that again.

"I've seen and lived in worst, at least ti has a roof," Iris said looking around the apartment, "Bathroom?"

[Avalanche]

(( continued in Lance's apartment thread ))