Log: Cammie & Fred ("Back dated" to early morning Tue. )

[x-scorpion.livejournal.com]

Early Tuesday morning, Cammie runs into Fred out on the smoker's porch.

Fred had succeeded in avoiding his roommate and the other assembled students for nearly the entire day, other than a few close calls. He really appreciated their candor and apparent desire to integrate him but...it would still take a while for Fred to acclimate. He wasn't a social person by nature, and he didn't want to be rude, but he needed a little time to get a foothold in this place before he would feel comfortable.

At the moment, he sat on the part of the porch Yvette had told him was open for smoking on. He lit one of his large unfiltered cigarettes and dragged deeply off of it, and leaned against the heavy rock of the Mansions' outer wall, enjoying the coolness of the evening against his face.

She couldn’t sleep tonight. Not after Callie had come in and decided to call up an old wound. A very big old wound. To be fair, she had tried for some sleep and had woken up in a cold sweat from a nightmare. One she hadn’t had in years. She fought down her first instinct, which was to pack everything up and get gone as far as she could go at once. Running away wasn’t going to change anything.

Three years and some months and she had finally realized that. Instead, she put on her ratted old hoodie and headed out for a breath of fresh air. It was very hard to miss the guy standing out there, he was huge. And smoking. Whatever, she figured, she stepped outside anyway. Even air filled with smoke was fresh to her. Smoke never bothered her.

“This porch taken?”

Fred turned in surprised, his long brown raincoat catching the wind for a moment. He sighed a little and shook his head, "Free country. Help yourself," he said, and waved his hand, indicating the porch. The green-haired girl was one of the people he hadn't met yet and, though he enjoyed the alone time, this girl seemed...different than the others. He dragged off his cigarette again and blew smoke out his nose. He held out his pack of cigarettes toward the new girl as an offering.

“Don’t know what country you’re living in that it’s free,” she said and wandered out on the porch and took a breath of the air that she still considered way too cold. But it was better than trying to sleep right now. “So, normal people are asleep right now. What’s your story?”

Fred cocked his eyebrow. This person seemed confrontationly different. It didn't really bother him. It was actually a refreshing change of pace. Fred shrugged and put his cigarettes back into his jacket, "I'm use to working security for strip joints and dance clubs. I haven't gotten my sleep schedule straightened out yet...."

Cammie chuckled, “You don’t look old enough to have worked cover at a titty bar. Big enough, yeah,” holy shit was he ever big enough to bounce. But his face had a kid like quality to it. “But I doubt you’re old enough. Or if you are, you got me fooled.”

Fred shrugged a little, and took another deep drag, "They never carded me. They were happy enough with my size to not ask any questions," he said. He took a moment to size the girl up. He'd seen her type before: independent, tough. He could tell by the way she carried herself she had seen her share of trouble, "I'm, uh, Fred, by the way," and held out one of his large hands in greeting.

It was his right hand he extended so Cammie put out her right. She hated shaking hands with her left. She had great control, but the risk was always there, “Yeah, the best places never do. Card that is. I go by Cammie.”

"Pleasure," he said. He coughed a little, then dragged one last time before he tossed the cigarette aside, "Actually, I found this place cause of my work. A friend of mine, older guy named Sunder, he was the one that actually pointed out that my size and strength was probably a mutation," Even in the dark of the night, the bemused embarrassment of Fred's face is blatant, "I, uh, never really figured I was a mutant before that..."

“Heh,” she said to that, though it wasn’t overly mean, “I got here because I was stabbed and bled all over Houston. It even made the national news,” she said with a grin. “That was back in January. I always knew what I freak I was though.”

Fred winced a little in commiseration, "Heard about that. I was in Atlanta at the time. Sorry about, y'know, the whole being stabbed thing. Coulda been worse, though. Least you got out in one piece." While others might have been uncomfortable around the apparently toxic girl, but...well, Fred was pretty sure that whatever was wrong with the girl couldn't hurt him. In one long, practiced, almost mechanical motion, Fred pulled another cigarette from the pack, put it into his mouth, and lit it. Looking back to Cammie, he offered his cigarette pack to her again. He knew not everyone smoked, and that it was a terrible habit, but he didn't want to be rude.

She shook her head at the offer, “Don’t. It’s a waste on me. They taste like crap and do nothing,” Cammie said. Which was true. Though she had eaten cigarettes – or what was left of them – in a pinch it wasn’t a taste she enjoyed. “And don’t worry ‘bout the stabbed either. Got a nice scar from it and proof that most people from Texas are certifiable morons.”

Fred put his cigarettes back into his pocket and, at the mention of Texan morons, chuckled fairly loudly for the large, shy boy. He smiled as he jerked a thumb at his chest, "You're looking at one of those morons. Born 'n raised in Lubbock,"

“Well, then you’re not from Houston so I can’t say how dumb you are right off the top of my head. Been to Lubbock a couple of times… its okay,” Cammie said. She had been all over Texas really. She had been all over everywhere. “When it comes to big cities, or cities at all, I’ll always prefer Chicago. There’s a good city.”

"Chicago is nice. Managed to make it out that way more than once. You want a real town, though? Seattle. Worked there once for about a week, and I really can't wait to get back out there..." Fred normally tried to reserve himself, but one of the thing he'd done fairly frequently was travel, and it was rare to find someone his age who had done the same. IT was one of the few topics that Fred could speak intelligibly on.

“Seattle was too rainy for me,” Cammie said. “Call me crazy, but I like to see the sky once and awhile,” she said with a laugh. She could handle this. Talking about traveling and she didn’t have to think about home. Or about the wound that Callie had shoved a stick in without thinking about it. “Same reason I didn’t care much for the ‘Twin Cities.’ Too cold and too much water. And god, in the summer in Minnesota, at night the air is made of mosquitoes.”

"That's why you stick to dry heats in the summertime: Phoenix, Reno...humidity and bugs don't eat you alive," Fred replaced the zippo in his coat and held his cigarette with two fingers, so as not to drop it from his lips while he talked, "Now, a lot of people say New York is overrated...but t'be honest, that place does have something unique to it...

“Bugs that eat me alive die shortly afterwards,” she had woken up covered in dead mosquitoes once. That was when she had called it quits to Wisconsin, Minnesota and Michigan. “New York is too cold, and in the summer Phoenix gets too hot and in Reno, if you’re a girl, everyone thinks you’re a hooker if you’re not with someone. Vegas is worse, those the pocketing is good – if you’re quick enough to avoid cameras that is.”

"I actually never made it out to Vegas. Guess it's for the best," he sighed. He would miss it; the road, the buzz of lonely electricity at night. Arriving in a new city was when he felt his most poetic. Fred exhaled a cloud of smoke, and removed two cans of Red Bull from inside his raincoat. "I always tried to keep on this side of the law," Fred snorted humorlessly, "it ain't as if I could run from the cops."

“Vegas is a shithole,” Cammie said simply, “And yeah, I can see where that’d be a problem for you,” she said, leaning against the wall and looking out. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if she tried. “I’m just a thief. It’s what I do.”

Fred held out one of the Red Bulls for Cammie to take, "Well, this one's on the house," he said. He put his cigarette back in his mouth, "And who cares if it ain't the best place on Earth. This point is, I haven't seen it yet,"

“Yeah, and it’s not worth the trip,” Cammie said, waving off the Red Bull, “Not my kind of drink, but thanks.”

"It's always worth the trip," Fred said simply, "Sorta like Stuckeys or life in general," then he blinked. In hindsight, that last sentiment didn't make any sense. Fred finished his Red Bull, and opened the one meant for Cammie, "So, what _is_ your drink?"

“I prefer anti-freeze,” she said with a wicked grin, “Or bleach. Drano in a pinch.”
Fred balked at Cammi for a moment, which honestly the effect she probably wanted. Then, he did something most likely unexpected: he smiled. "You too, huh? Yea, while I don't prefer the more toxic chemicals, but...nothing I eat can hurt me."

“Heh, kindred spirits, eh? If I believed in the that crap. For me, it’s the only stuff I can taste,” she said lightly.

"T'be honest, I usually only eat fruits and vegetables. Simple stuff. Powerful flavors really bother me," Fred held his hands up in mock defeat, "I know, I know, it doesn't look like I've touched a salad in years. Sometimes mutancy can be a bitch." Fred had felt himself open up to Yvette and, to a lesser extent, Julian. Now he sat here and cracked jokes with this green haired girl. Maybe it was something they had put in the water here.

“Hey, I wasn’t going to touch the weight, but you said it,” she laughed. “It’s okay, I’m a walking bio-hazard.”

"Could be worse" This was how you could tell Fred's nicotine dependency was bad: he literally lite a new cigarette with the one he had just finished smoking. Fred flicked away the old cigarette and sucked in smoke from the new one, "Lot of mutants helped me get here, and I've heard some horror stories: kids who melted away, people turning into swarms of bees or walking mushroom clouds..." despite himself, Fred actually shivered as he thought about terrible fates such as these.

Cammie’s face fell, “Yeah. It’s… there’s a lot of bad stuff out there that happens to freaks like us.”

"Yeah...freaks like us..." Fred looked up at the sky, the vigor he'd had in the recent conversation abandoned him on the double time. He sighed, and when he spoke, he voice went quieter than before "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to spoil the conversation..."

“S’okay. I’m just having a bad night,” Cammie admitted. Which was as far as she was going to go with that. “Trust me, I’m normally such a ray of fucking sunshine that Barney wants me dead.”

Fred had opened his mouth to say something, to ask if Cammie wanted to talk, but her tone gave Fred all the answer he needed. He gave her a weak smile for her forced joke, and looked over to the part of the Mansion where he'd parked his car, "Hey, I think I have some anti-freeze and brake fluid in my car, if you're thirsty,"

After a second, she grinned. “Sure, I could use a drink tonight. Too bad I can’t really get drunk, but at least it will taste good.”

Fred flicked his cigarette onto the porch, "I can't get drunk either. Think it's my size. Believe me, I've tried." He waved his hand toward the garage, "After you," he said to Cammie.