om_main | Lucrezia and Cal, Backdated to Tuesday morning (Reply)

Brand new student Lucrezia Borgia heads to the kitchen for a restorative cuppa. There she meets her very first classmate, Cal, who stops making a sandwich to help her. They talk briefly about their respective mutations.

The thing about being a mimic was that you often found yourself having to deal with the side effects of people's mutations even after they had gone from your body. Namely: there were a lot of mutations out there that made Cal need some food, stat, not even just Pietro's - although his more than most, of course.

So it might be a couple hours until dinner time, but he wasn't waiting for the cafeteria to open. He was in the kitchen, fixing himself a quick sandwich - turkey and mustard, proteins were his friends. He had every intention of hitting the court afterwards, hopefully with Steve if he could track him down, but he wasn't yet dressed for it, in a long-sleeved tee, jeans and sneakers. He was humming under his breath as he spread mustard on the bread, a song by the BJM.

As she'd feared, there wasn't an electric kettle anywhere in plain sight as she walked through the kitchen doors. Just a tall young man making a sandwich. Which was really the next best thing, since there was absolutely nothing she felt like doing less than rummaging through cabinets trying to find what she needed.

"Hello there. I'm Lucrezia. I don't suppose you'd be so kind as to show me where things are for tea?" She paired the request with a hopeful smile, laced with just a little rue at being caught out so helpless.

Cal turned around when he heard someone coming and hey, new girl. New, pretty girl. He'd never seen her before, anyway. He locked down tight on that little buzz that told him there was a mutation to mimic, there. He'd learned the hard way that it was better to ask questions first, mimic later, given some of the mutations out there.

"Hey, Lucrezia," he greeted her with one of his usual half-smiles, friendly and just a little smug - just like him. "I'm Cal, and way too Californian to drink much tea, but I've explored the kitchen enough that I think I can help. You're in luck." He licked some mustard off of his finger and abandoned his half-made sandwich to open one of the cupboards and - yeah, that was the one - pull an electric kettle out of it. "You've got several kinds here," he indicated the same cupboard, with the little tea bags and the sugar beside them, "and the mugs are in there," he tapped on the door to another cupboard. "Did you just get here?"

Lucrezia briefly weighed the merits of excusing herself an spiriting the kettle off to her room, but that would have meant finding her room, not to mention the dreadful first impression she would have made on Cal. Which she hoped was short for Calvin; a much nicer sounding name, in her opinion.

"I did." She had to stand on tiptoe to get even the first mug in the cabinet, which was a little undignified but unavoidable. Thank goodness the tea selection was decent, or she would have spent the afternoon at a loss. "I'm just out of the headmasters' office, and before that a car, a train, and a trans-Atlantic flight that started at a positively unGodly hour."

She filled the kettle, and as her back was turned she felt it, that first uncomfortable trickle of awareness, like a chill fog rolling over her. Not that there was anything overtly negative in the feeling she got from Cal, or that she really had enough to go on at this point anyway, but the sense of not being alone in her mind wasn't getting that much easier.

"Tell me you slept on the flight over, at least," Cal asked, with sympathy, as he got back to his sandwich. Flying over from California really hadn't been that bad. "England?" She sounded like it, but Lucrezia didn't exactly sound like a very English name, so...

Lucrezia wondered if the accent or the tea was the bigger tell.

"England, yes. And I did sleep eventually." After charming a glass of wine out of the only male flight attendant. First class was fabulous for so many reasons.

She eyed his sandwich.

"I didn't actually ask the headmaster; do we sort out our own meals?" There had been school meals at her prep, and the thought of preparing all her own food was rather daunting.

"Only if we wanna," Cal replied, and move to put the turkey and mustard back on the fridge. "Or are that hungry outside of cafeteria hours, anyway. Some mutations out there are pretty draining." He leaned back against the counter and picked up his sandwich, watching her. "Mind if I ask what yours is?" Hopefully she wouldn't be one of the ones that did.

It seemed the culture was very open when it came to discussing mutation, which was a little unbelievable to Lucrezia. Uncomfortable, even, though she tried not to let it show. It was time to sink or swim in this new environment, andBorgias did not sink.

"I'm a vampire," she quipped, trying to look dangerous for a moment before she broke down and smiled. "An emotional one, anyway. I feel what other people are feeling." She didn't get into the heavier side where she didn't know which feelings were her own at times, or the dreams. Fit in, but don't give away your whole story right from the jump.

"Unless you suck it right out of them, I'm not sure that makes you much of a vampire," Cal remarked with a half-smile, because her smile was bright and beautiful, and it was difficult not to. And anyway, that meant that it was safe to do his thing. He focused on that buzz at the edge of his consciousness and let it happen, waiting to start feeling different. "...huh," he stated, after swallowing another bite. "So I'm a mimic, right? Mutations included. I'm not feeling much of anything. Wait, right, prolonged contact, gotcha."

It was hard not to feel mistrustful of someone who knew more about her than she was offering. Given the array of talents the headmasters had described to her, many of which were based in mental perception, Lucrezia had best learn some sort of defensive techniques, and fast. Her water was boiling, and she oped for an inoffensive black tea, and left it to steep while she retrieved the milk.

"Mimicry must be...confusing." She thought about the way her emotions had been mimicking Cesare's and Mother's as they saw her off at Heathrow, how unbearable that moment had been. But almost worse were the times before, when her moods were seemingly random, unintelligible until she realized she was actually just reflecting others in the house.

"It has its pros and cons," Cal replied with a one-shouldered shrug. "There are some kickass mutations out there. Trading skills can be pretty cool." But then there were the dangerous mutations, and there was the fact that none of it was his. That kinda sucked, on his good days.

Lucrezia was familiar enough with half truths to know when she was being told one, but knew she had nothing to gain by pushing. Her tea was made, social expectation satisfied, so she just smiled sweetly.

"Of course, it must be. Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find a sunny spot to drink this and see if I can't rally by supper, try to meet everyone at once. Thank you again for your help; I'dve been lost without you, Cal." The name repetition was a Rodrigo habit, and one he'd drilled into them so well she still felt compelled a continent away.

"All in a day's work, Lucrezia," Cal assured her with a friendly half-smile. "You need anything, don't hesitate."

"I never do." She parting smile was the bravest and flashiest she'd managed since leaving home. Must have been the tea.