om_main | Philip and Harley, Backdated to May 17

A few hours after learning about the end of her gymnastics career, (a very emo) Harley seeks out Felix in his room, and meets his roommate instead. Phil gives her the proper Agent treatment. It doesn't go well.

Harley was wandering through the mansion halls in a devastated daze, carried by some notion that she was looking for Felix. She wasn't even sure why, or what she expected him to do. Earlier she'd been out by the lake, crying and even screaming, but she'd gone sort of numb now. It was good she hadn't bumped into anyone, because she was a complete mess. Her ponytail was falling out, her face had unmistakeable tear tracks, and her hands and clothes were dirty from hitting at the dirt and grass in her frustration.

When she looked up, she was stopped in front of Felix's room. How long had she been standing there? She shook her head a little and tapped on the door.

Philip wasn't expecting anyone, but that didn't mean much of anything really. He gave the room a quick look to be sure that nothing was out that shouldn't be before calling out. "Come in."

Harley was a few steps into the room when she noticed the distinct lack of Felix. It hadn't occurred to her that only his roommate would be here. Turning to face the older boy, she didn't recognize him and was suddenly self-conscious. She retreated in on herself, big blue eyes looking at the ground. "Is Felix here?"

"Not at the moment, I'm sorry," Philip said. The once-over he gave the girl was quick, barely enough to be noticeable but more than enough time for him to figure out a few things. "It's Harleen, yes?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

That was one of those loaded questions, of course, but she had come seeking Felix and she didn't look like she was in the mood for casual company.

Harley shook her head 'no' before wondering if she was supposed to pretend she was okay. "Harley," she corrected automatically. Suddenly her eyes were pricking with tears again. "Is he... is he coming back soon?"

"I don't know, really. If he's in the library, he'll be there for a while. Do you need him, or is there anything I can help you with?" Philip asked. Admittedly, there were still parts of his roommate that Philip didn't know but... a crying girl showing up looking for Felix was definitely not something Philip would have expected.

Harley shook her head again, eyes still on the floor. The library was scary and public, but that was just a passing thought. All she could really think was that she didn't have any idea where to go next, and now she was crying again. Sniffling, she wiped at her eyes, smearing dirt into the tear tracks.

Oh lord. Philip frowned, (and kept it entirely on the inside, thank you) as he tried to figure out what to do. This... was not one of those things that were usually covered. After a few moments, he seemed to remember one very hazy set of lessons and stood up, locking his laptop as he did. "Hold on just a second, alright? I'll be be right back, less than a minute, I promise."

Harley nodded and continued standing in the middle of the room, not sure what else to do. She was failing miserably at stopping her tears - in fact, trying to stop made her throat hurt and the sniffling get worse, which made more tears come. How could you cry so much when you felt empty?

Philip was back a few moments later with a cold, damp towel that he offered to the girl. "Here. It looks like your eyes are probably hurting."

He was right, her eyes were stinging, and her face felt dirty and raw. She muttered a little "thanks" and took the cloth, pressing it gingerly to her face. It was cool on her flushed skin, and she focused on that feeling, trying to collect her thoughts. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't worry about it," Philip said easily. "But something's obviously wrong. Is it anything you can talk about?" It was deliberately phrased, he of all people knew about things one could or couldn't talk about, regardless of wanting to.

Anxious indecision was plain on her face. It felt too personal to share, and yet... She gripped the cloth so hard her knuckles went white, and her jaw clenched tightly. Finally the desire to tell someone won out.

"My dad... my dad ended my career. They won't let me compete anymore," she managed in a small voice, her tone making it clear this was the end of the world. A fresh wave of tears started, and she wiped at them with the towel, completely unable to turn off the water works.

Philip knew very little about gymnastics really, besides that it was intense and the competitors tended to be very, very young. "Did he happen to say why that was? Did he give a reason?"

"They think it's not safe," her voice was quavering dangerously. She'd been arguing and negotiating with her parents for weeks, and finally they'd just taken the decision out of her hands entirely. Informed her that it was over. "Because I'm a mutant. But... but I don't care, it's..."

This was the part she couldn't explain. 'It's my whole life' didn't even begin to cover it. Gymnastics was written into her body just as much as her mutation, and deeper still.

"Why do they think that?" Philip asked gently. He'd fallen into the tone he used with Felix, leading questions and a friendly, neutral tone, the one that frequently led Felix to figuring things out for himself. "Is it because the sport itself is dangerous or something else?"

Even through her tears, Harley looked at him like maybe he was dumb. She tilted her head slightly to the side and huffed.

"No, because of that dragon girl." Obviously. "But no one would know! I didn't know I was a mutant before, that's why I fell," she told him earnestly, one hand falling protectively to the place her collarbone had broken. "But I can control it, my hands won't disappear anymore. I swear!"

"Some abilities are more obvious than others," Philip said reasonably. "But you were injured when you arrived?" Not that he was entirely sure, but the combination of 'why I fell' and 'my hands won't disappear' made for some fairly good guesses.

"Not mine, it's not obvious," she told him stubbornly, needing to make someone believe her. She was desperate. "The cameras didn't see it happen. I only got hurt because I had no idea I could do that! And it's only happened one other time..."

"Harley..." Philip sighed, but quietly. Apparently he was getting another example to add to his prospective handler's tool kit. "If I may ask, how exactly did you injure yourself? What happened?"

Her lower lip jutted out in an angry pout. He didn't get it at all, she could tell. But she didn't know him, and he was older than her and talking to her kind of like a coach would. Her natural approach was to sulk, but answer (shakily, since she was still crying).

"I was at Nationals, and I was gonna do great, but my stupid hand disappeared," she threw an arm forward, hand piercing into the Pocket space and disappearing up to her wrist. Her fingers should have been touching him, but instead there was just empty air with a slight distortion. "Right in the middle of a back handspring on the beam. Broke my right clavicle, cracked two ribs, lots of bruising. But Josh fixed me, and no one saw, so it's fine."

'Sulky' was a decidedly new experience for Philip and he wasn't all that sure he cared for it. He could also vividly picture the injury, and more than that, extrapolate what could have happened instead. It was a hazard of growing up in the environment he had. And it was due to that experience of his that he was somewhat harsher than he'd normally try to be.

"Well," he said conversationally. "If that's the case, my suggestion would be to talk to Josh again before you confront your parents, or try to get involved with things on your own. I'm not up on his capacities myself, and unless you are utterly, one hundred percent sure that your ability is under control, it would be good to know ahead of time if he can mend a broken neck. Then again," he said thoughtfully, "The appearance of such an injury is fairly distinct. I guess you'd have to decide whether to potentially stay paralyzed or take the chance of outing the school once it was miraculously mended. But if you are that entirely confident, I suppose the point is moot."

Harley pulled her hand back and just sniffled for a moment, trying to reconcile his tone and his words. She'd been listening dutifully, but now she narrowed her eyes at him. This time her voice was stronger.

"I saw a girl break her back once," she told him angrily. She'd been about six, but she'd seen it - a fourteen year old, just a terrible fall. An accident. "That's a risk we all take, no powers necessary. And no healing powers either." She took a deep breath. "I earned my spot at Nationals - I did everything right, and my parents can't take that all away because I'm a mutant now!"

десять, девять, восемь, семь,шесть, пять... By the time Philip got down to four, he'd reined himself back in again. He found his shoulders squaring without being aware of it, standing tall as he folded his arms in front of himself, and fixed Harley with his best Dedushka Ivan, 'I shouldn't have to be explaining this' Look. "And while I applaud confidence in one's abilities, Miss Quinzel, the fact remains that you are not an independent you are a student at this school. Were a mishap to occur, you could potentially put every student here in danger, or did you miss the shooting that happened? If you did, might I suggest YouTube and a search on Elaine DuPree. Please be advised, some of the content is quite graphic."

Clutching the cloth in both hands, she raised her hands to her chin, unconsciously blocking her body as she watched him change. Normally she'd ignore her 'instincts' about people, but in her current state of mental chaos, instinct was about the only guiding force she had. And instinct said this guy was stronger, smarter, and colder than he had seemed before - and that was dangerous.

She opened her mouth to tell him she didn't care, or to point out that one of the older boys was still competing, or to say she wasn't dumb enough to publicize her abilities, or- or something. But instead, the words that came out were, "You're a liar."

"Believe what you want, Miss Quinzel. I have told you the unvarnished truth and the hazards I mentioned are both common knowledge and public record. I think, perhaps, that you should verify them for yourself before you choose your next course of action." Philip's attention didn't waver from her one bit, nor did he break the pose he had adopted. It was an effective one for getting the point across.

Harley had clamped her lips shut as soon as the words escaped, a jolt of fear hitting her stomach at their stupidity. Another swirl of emotions crashed through her at his response - confusion, anger, grief - but did nothing to diminish her growing fear of the boy who lied with his body, and didn't care about what she'd lost. Despite regretting her last words, she let that same instinct guide her 'next course of action.'

"Not that kind of liar," she said quickly, then burst into motion. She threw the towel straight at his face as a distraction, not waiting to see his reaction as she sprang backwards - out of reach - and deftly used the step to turn and bolt out the open door, vanishing into the hallway.

Philip's hand snapped out, snagging the towel out of mid-air as he sighed. That girl was going to need watching, the headmasters were likely already informed, but he wasn't about to start leaving things to them now. He could only hope that no one would get hurt before she figured out better priorities.