LOG: Cain and Marius, Campus orientation

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Marius is weaned off house-arrest by being shown around campus by Cain. Cain learns a bit about Marius' background, and Marius learns Cain cannot be hit up for beer.




"All right, and here we got the kitchen. Usually we get together for dinner, dining room's over there. Anything that's labeled is for the folks with weird food rules, don't eat that. Don't eat none of the other students either, 'case you feel the urge again. Because if you do, I'm gonna thump you one, and what I thump stays thumped, we clear?"

Cain paused by the refrigerator, casting a glance at the new student that he'd been given the unenviable job of escorting around the mansion. Moira and Madelyn had both assured him the boy was no threat, but the fact that they'd assigned him as an escort gave that diagnosis a little less strength.

Opening the fridge, he leaned in quickly. "Pop? We got a bit more to go, house is a pretty big place, even with all the places you ain't allowed to go."

"Orange or sport drink'd be better, if you've got any," Marius replied, fascinated by the way the man completely eclipsed the professional-grade refrigerator. He'd never met anyone so massive. "It's an electrolyte thing." He grinned at the older man's back. "'Weird food rules'?"

Cain nodded, tossing a bottle of Gatorade to the young man. "It's a mutant thing. Some of the kids here turn blue if they get too many preservatives. Literally. Weird..." he rubbed his hand over his stomach in pantomime, "guts thing, you know? Anyway, the one rule that I hope they've drilled into your head is that People Ain't Food. Shouldn't take you long to figure out which of your classmates are liable to kick your ass across the lake if you try what you did with Nate. Speaking of the lake," Cain reached over and unlocked the back door. "Grab a coat. We're going outside."

Marius spared a moment's thought for the straining lump of nylon, gortex, leather, and suede -- the jackets that comprised outer shell more balanced than hung -- that was the primary coatrack. There was a reason he'd kept all his clothing in his newly-acquired room.

"Don't need one," he decided, sticking his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. "It's not that cold, and I've already got a few layers on." He was probably risking Moira and Maddie's ire, but he doubted another layer was going to make much of a difference. And anyway, he resented the fact that he was being made to dress for autumn in October. Bloody North America.

"Suit yourself," Cain said gruffly, stepping out onto the back patio. "Over there's the stables, no eating the horses either. If the Frenchies here can restrain themselves, you can too. That way's the boathouse. You don't need anything out that way. Woodshed, fountain," Cain continued pointing around, leaning casually against the side of the house, "Lake's past those trees. Ain't much swimming this time of year anyway. Past it that way's the road leads back to the old quarry, that's off-limits."

"No worries. Horse is overrated." Marius inspected the grounds critically. Not as well-kept as his mother's estate, but he supposed letting the woods run wild gave it a certain charm. He also understood that Xavier's property extended over several kilometers, and you could hardly expect a single groundskeeper to maintain the entire area. Even if he was as huge as Cain.

"And I don't eat people," he added haughtily, reminded of the man's earlier content. Have two little accidents, and they never let you forget it. "Moira says it's more like taking a bone marrow donation. It's a dietary deficiency, or something. But she'll be right now we've all the kinks worked out."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Cain grumbled, pointing out to the woodline. "If you're the running type, there's a trail that'll take you the length of the property. Outside pool's covered for the season, but the inside one's heated." He took a quick glance at Marius. The kid had the type of composure that came from exercise, or more accurately, sports with the other rich kids. Polo, probably. Or whatever they played where he was from.

Predictably, Marius' next comment confirmed his suspicions. "You'd have canoes for the lake, right? Any regular sport? Rugby'd be too much to hope for, I suppose. Football, then?" He remembered his surroundings, and smirked. "Not the American sort. Nothing with that much padding counts as a real sport."

"You're the kind who likes to get a bit physical, huh?" Cain smirked. "Got a few of the kids from the wrong side of the ocean that like your weird sports. But yeah, we got canoes." Something seemed familiar about the kid, but Cain couldn't quite put his finger on it. The smug attitude of superiority, despite his condition. The weird accent, not quite Aussie, something else under it.

Pulling up a chair, Cain cracked the top of his beer and took a quick swig, nodding for Marius to take a seat overlooking the grounds. "So what's your story, then? Your parents send you here to learn, or they just trying to get rid of you?"

Marius assumed the proffered seat with a nod, and set his drink down next to him. "Well, things get a bit vague around that point, but from what I remember dad was mostly trying to stop me dying." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the chair with every sign of contentment. "Moira was telling me that a lot of mutants manifest their powers under stress, like blowing things up or turning the bully into dried toast, or whatever it is they do. Me, I just got sick. We didn't even know it was to do with mutancy until a few weeks ago, when the rash on my hands that'd turned into blisters popped and the doctors found these little mouths. Dad put two and two together, and here I am. No drama involved." He flashed Cain a white smile. "Drama's my sister's department, at least according to dad."

THAT did it. The accent, the attitude, even the slight resemblance. Cain smacked his forehead. "Aw, dammit," he moaned. "Your sister's the prissy little stuck-up bitch that goes into random comas every so often, ain't she? Good lord, Chuck must be offering a family discount plan at this rate."

"Yeah, guess you could call it a family referral," Marius nodded, unaccountably amused. He began to jog one of his feet in an idle sort of way. "Actually, she's my half-sister. We've never met. It's no big secret, but I'm not so much what you'd call 'legitimate,' so mum and I stay out of the way most times. Dad talks about her once in a while, mostly when she's wound him up, but for the most part I only know as much about her as anyone else who watches the evening news."

"Sibling rivalry, huh?" Cain stifled a belch, crushing his beer can and rolling it into a small ball of aluminum. "I can get behind that. So what've they told you you're doing for the rest of the day?"

"I don't know, they were pretty vague. Most of what they told me was 'don't,' as in: leave school grounds, exercise without a spotter, or attempt conversation with Mr. Dayspring." Marius wrinkled his nose. "Tell the truth, I'm getting a bit tired of 'don't.'"

"Well, lemme give you a tip, then," Cain said with a small laugh, kicking his feet up on the railing. "Aside from the 'not eating people' thing. Stupid as the staff here is gonna seem sometimes - hell, most of the time - they want to do right by you. Listen to 'em. Most of your classmates are probably gonna give you advice, too. Don't listen to 'em. Far as I can tell, you're all equally boneheaded. Keep from pissing the wrong people off, and who knows?" He shrugged one massive shoulder. "You might even survive long enough to figure out what's wrong with you."

Marius turned to regard Cain, pleased. He'd been impressed when he'd heard Cain had been the one to peel him off Nathan, but he was mildly surprised to find he actually liked the man. This was a bit irritating, since it required a reassessment of his mental image of the Big Dumb American -- though fortunately only by half. He still couldn't believe the man was only human.

"I listen to all advice," Marius assured him. "Sometimes I even follow it." And he smiled, but this time his grin had the particular quirk that usually sent housekeepers, coaches, and school administrators reaching for the paperwork to start an incident report. "If it makes sense."

He settled back again, allowing himself to take in the scenery. It was rather nice, really. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here. Even if the seasons were backwards. He yawned, and glanced back at Cain.

"So," he said, "any chance of getting us a beer?"

"I would be delighted to get us, meaning myself, another beer. Finish your Gatorade," Cain ordered, "we've still got the second floor to show you.""