Log: Frank and Clint- Frank's Arrival

[x-pinnochio.livejournal.com]

Clint greets the School's newest arrival.

The gravel crunched beneath Frank's shoes as he dragged his suitcase from the gates of Xavier's to the front door. His dad had offered to drive him the whole way- several times, in fact- but if the bastard was going to abandon him he could at least do it on Frank's terms.

That these terms were wholly ridiculous was entirely beside the point.

With a barely audible grunt, he pushed the front door open, heaved his suitcase inside, and sat down on it. This was going to be one of those days.

Clint's eyebrows went up as the front door clicked shut behind the guy who'd just lugged in a pretty massive suitcase. "Dude," he said. "Is that what you've got for, like, an overnight visit or have you decided to hug us and squish us and call us your own? Also, who're you?"

Frank glanced up at Clint, face unreadable. "Heck, man, didn't they tell you? I'm your new teacher. My specialist subject is 'shut the fuck up, I'm wet and pissed off.'" There was a beat. Then a wry smile curved over his lips. "Then again, maybe I'm just tired and bitchy. Hi. I'm Frank. They tell me this is mutant high."

"Nah, I must've missed that memo," Clint said, wandering over toward the other boy. "But yeah, we're all kinds of mutantalicious here. I'm Clint. This your first time at the mansion?" He hadn't seen Frank around at all and he really hadn't heard from anyone that they'd be getting a new student, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

"Yeah, pretty much. Only heard about the place two weeks ago and now I'm the newest inmate." Careful there, a part of Frank muttered. Your bitter is showing. "Don't suppose you know where I'm staying, do you? I mean, this place is like Hogwarts in Westchester- I don't want to have to drag this stuff around everywhere while I go looking for a corner to crash in."

"Not officially, but I can make a guess," Clint said. He shifted the strap on his backpack, then tipped his head down the hall. "There's an elevator down here, so at least you won't have to lug it up and down a bunch of stairs. We can drop that in the main room of the suite and then see about finding Korvus or Sharon - they're the RAs. They'll know for sure where you're staying. My guess is the other room in the suite with me and my roommate. Our other roommate's moved into the grad suites, so it's free. Want some help with your suitcase of doom?"

"Dude. Don't dignify it with a name like that. It'll get all arrogant and shit and I'll have to beat it to make it remember it's place." Frank picked up his suitcase, glancing over at Clint as he did so. "RAs, huh? What are they like?"

He tried not to consider how cold, wet and tired he was. Neither did he consider how the muscles in his arms protested as he heaved the bag up. He did not need help. He could deal with it himself. He always did.

"Pretty cool. Korvus is like six different shades of zen. Sharon sometimes goes by Catseye cause she can turn into a cat - a big one and a little one. That's her mutation, obviously," Clint said, watching Frank haul his suitcase up before leading him down the hall. "She went with me and Tandy into the city for the premiere of The Hobbit." If the other boy didn't want help with the case, that was his deal. Clint was cool just letting things settle as they would and Frank seemed prickly. "They make up the hall boards and do social events every once in a while. And they're good for advice if you need it about a lot of stuff."

Stopping in front of the elevator, Clint pressed the button and waited for the doors to open, then walked inside and held the door for Frank. "Where're you from?"

"New York. I grew up, like, an hour and a half away from here." Frank dropped his suitcase as the doors closed behind him. He turned to look at Clint. "I had no clue this place was here, either. I mean, a private boarding school for mutant kids? I'm surprised I could even walk in the front door without getting fire bombed by a FOH protest march." He paused, knelt down to his suitcase, and started rummaging in one of the outer compartments.

"That doesn't happen, does it? Because I am so up for beating the shit out of bigots. It's good for your karma."

"Hasn't happened yet," Clint answered, snorting softly. "I grew up in the city and I'd never heard of it, either. The right people know, though. That's how I wound up here. There's some pretty cool stuff that goes down, though. Planes flying out of a super secret base hidden beneath the basketball court, superheroes, ridiculously fast cars. What's your mutation?"

There was a pause. Then Frank stood up and looked at Clint with an expression halfway between 'that's not as funny as you think' and sure, whatever, get in the straight-jacket.' He pushed his glasses further up his nose with a finger.

"Back up a second. Superheroes? Planes? A secret base? What is this, GI Joe?" He leaned against the wall, face settling into a more amused expression. "Seriously, dude, I get hazing the new guy, but couldn't you pick something more believable?"

He carefully avoided mentioning his mutation. Right now was not the time to start talking about turning to wood when it was convenient.

"Seriously," Clint said, half smiling. "I'm not even trying to lie here. The X-Men are based out of the mansion. The basketball court like. Splits in half and out flies their plane. We use one of their training rooms for practice with our mutations and to promote group interaction or something. So we can all work together if we need to. No hazing. They'd probably give me a million detentions for hazing somebody. It's kind of a thing. That's sort of part of why I'm here, too. No bullies, no hazing. People are still douchebags sometimes, but it's better than anywhere else."

Frank stared at him again for a long moment. "Okay," he said eventually. "Either you are the most dedicated liar ever, you are crazy, or I have just walked into a paramilitary training camp. None of these are good options, but I really don't want to drag my suitcase back downstairs again." He pushed himself off the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. "What's your mutation, anyway?"

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open again when they reached the floor with the student's suites, so Clint stepped out and held the door for Frank again. "It's not either of those first two and training is totally optional after the first year. They just want to make sure you can defend yourself. It's totally not anything near paramilitary."

He didn't say anything else as he led the way to the suite he shared with Billy, nudging the door open and gesturing for the other boy to follow him inside. "My mutation's not really anything special. I've got weird eyes, so I see better than everybody else, I don't have to blink as much, and I can look in two different directions at the same time. Logan and Mr. Summers think I've got some spatial awareness thing, too, but I don't know much about it yet. So what's yours?" Turnabout was fair play, after all, and he'd answered the question easily enough.

"Sure. That's what all the paramilitaries say," Frank muttered as he followed Clint. Then he saw the room. And stopped. And laid down his suitcase. "...Then again, the digs are pretty sweet," he said blankly. He paused, and turned to look at Clint. The question he'd been dreading all day. "I... turn into a tree," he said, finally, a little awkward. "Kind of. It's dumb."

"I'm pretty sure your room is over there," Clint said, pointing toward the door that led to Matt's old room. "The rest of the suite's pretty much fair game. Kitchenette, couch, television." He quirked an eyebrow, then asked, "So, if somebody whacks you with a pipe or something when you're a tree, do you get hurt? Are you like, mobile? Like an ent?"

"Yeah. Not as much, though- I don't think my nerves work the same way. And yes, I can move around." Frank paused, sat down on his suitcase again, and sighed. "It's easier if I just show you. Hang on." He concentrated. Then, something like a violent shiver seemed to sweep across his body. When he opened his eyes again, he was solid wood. "See?"

"Huh," Clint said, tilting his head a bit. "That's not dumb. That's kind of cool. It's better than this." He looked to the right with his right eye and the left with the other, then smiled. "Want something to drink? We've got water and soda. For anything else, we'll need to check the main kitchen downstairs."

Frank considered Clint for a moment as he said that, and then smiled a little wryly. "Yeah. Some soda would be nice." That had been the first time he'd ever gotten a good reaction from his powers.

Huh.

Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all.