Matt & Layla | Wednesday afternoon

[x-mandelbrot.livejournal.com]

Layla arrives at the mansion with her social worker and it turns out the guy hanging out on the front steps is a blast from the past.

Fall in Westchester was not like fall in the city, even though the two were similar. Temperature-wise nothing was different, but fall smelled differently here. Better. Crisper. Matt liked it. Sitting out front of the school, Matt was bored to tears reading The Birth of the Republic. It was quite possibly the most boring book ever, and that was saying a lot since Matt liked to read! The sound of a car coming up the drive was a pleasant distraction and his head followed it as it came up and parked. Two people inside. Interesting. With his sunglasses on, no one could tell he wasn't actually watching things. Marking his page with a bookmark, he waited to see what happened and who got out.

To be honest, Layla thought Sandy was fucking with her when they pulled up at the outer gate and she said this was the boarding school Layla was heading for. It was like a really bad joke or something, but the gate opened when Sandy said she was here with Layla. Her jaw dropped at the sheer size of the placed as the car rolled up the long drive. "Seriously?" It was rhetorical and Sandy knew it so she didn't bother answering, just put the car in park. "Who's the kid out front?"

"I don't know, I'd assume a student."

The blonde grimaced. "I really hope I don't get one of those geeky tours of the school or whatever." Movies always had one of those for new kids. She'd never gotten one at any other school she'd started at, though. The pair of them got out of the car and Layla pulled her backpack and duffel bag out of the back seat of her social worker's car.

"I'm going to go find Mister Xavier to handle some details." The social worker smiled at the girl. "Go make a friend."

To say Layla glared at the woman would have been accurate, though there was little oompf behind it. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, go make a friend or you'll make me hand out snack packs."

Her social worker just laughed and made her way up to the front door. She said greeted the kid out front before heading in. Layla assumed she was going to get lost in a labyrinth and never be seen again. The teen's eyes were still on the building. Did this qualify as a mansion? "Does it come with a map?" she muttered to herself, sure her words had been too quiet to be heard by the guy with the book.

"Yep," Matt replied without moving, "It comes with your new student orientation packet or whatever," Matt made that up, but he had gotten a bunch of stuff when he had come so he assumed it was the same. He'd heard the conversation they'd had in the car too. "I'm Matt, by the way," he offered a hand, "Matt Murdock."

She was in the middle of reminding herself this place was full of mutants so of course he could hear her from over here when the name caught her. Layla pushed herself away from the car and took several steps closer to him. Matt Murdock. She knew that name. She didn't take the offered hand but instead started to try to place the name. She couldn't see his eyes and that bugged her. Red hair. There was something vaguely familiar about him. When she couldn't place it she shook his hand. "Layla. So you a resident of home for wayward mutants? Or you not wayward and just a mutant?"

"Yep," he replied again. "That your mom or social worker or what?" Matt assumed the latter from how they interacted. "I'm one of the foster kids here. She sounds a lot like my social worker, overworked, overstressed and underpaid. Welcome to Xavier's School for Last Chance Kids," that was his own personal name for the place since it more accurately described how he saw it.

"Social worker. She tries to get me to behave and shit and gives me disapproving looks when I use 'bad words.'" You didn't have to be able to see the finger quotes to hear the emphasis she put around the last two words. Matt the foster kid. Great, so there was more than one of them there. She wondered if there was others. "So you orphaned, a trouble maker, ditched or have raging abusive assholes for parents?" Layla wasn't exactly one for filtering when she didn't deem it necessary. Most times fell into the "not necessary" category.

"First and second," Matt replied, "I've already had three strikes. Like I said, last chance," he grinned though. After more than six months here he was beginning to realize that people really meant it when they said that he wouldn't be sent away. "Orphaned, violent and drug abuse. Shockingly, I have managed to stay out of trouble here. What about you? Why'd you get sent here?"

Layla shrugged, the gesture the epitome of I-don't-care nonchalance. She answered in an entirely unaffected, dry tone. "My foster parents got too freaked out by the zombie animal schtick and decided they couldn't handle it so Sandy had to find somewhere else to stick me. Apparently people only like zombies in movies and not so much when roadkill gets up off the ground. Hypocrites." She sized Matt up as she answered him. Violent? He didn't look like much of a threat. "I've been known to deck people with my skateboard. In case you get any brilliant ideas about your violent tendencies around me. Just so we're clear."

"You keep your violent tendencies away from little foster kids who don't know better...we won't have a problem," Matt replied. He didn't use his hands when he spoke or make much expression, nor did he take his sunglasses off. His gaze was fixed just slightly over her left shoulder. "Zombies, huh? That's...unique," he'd never heard of anything like that. That didn't mean anything though, there were a lot of things, especially when it came to mutation that he didn't know, "Where're you from then? In the city?"

"Clinton. Midtown West. Whichever yuppy name you'd prefer." The sneer on her face carried over to her tone. She hated those names for the neighborhood but they were the socially acceptable ones. "And for the record, I don't have violent tendencies unless someone instigates. So you don't try to get violent with me or push around kids who can't fend for themselves or like old ladies or whatever and we're cool. I'm not gonna hit someone unless they deserve it and don't take my generous opportunity to let them get away unscathed."

By now she had noticed that Matt wasn't exactly looking at her. He wasn't staring at her tits either though so that was something. She kept glancing over her shoulder to try to figure out what he was looking at but she couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe he had like super sight to go with that annoying hearing of his. "Dude, what the fuck are you looking at?"

"Hell's Kitchen," Matt smirked, "Wait. Layla? Miller? Coma girl?" that made him sit up and take more notice. "And nothing. I'm blind."

Coma girl. She had been "coma girl" after her parents died. She just sort of checked out of reality, or rather couldn't turn her brain off of all the what if's in the world. Eighty million things popped in her head and all she could do was cycle through how one thing could lead to another and another and another. She hadn't been functional or even particularly mobile for a while. But if Matt knew her as coma girl then...then he knew her. "I never knew a blind kid. I think I would've remember that."

"Wasn't blind back then. You were what 10?" Matt tried to think back to how old he was. "Matt Murdock, you know, Batlin' Jack Murdock's kid," he stood up, clearly pleased. "Yeah. 10. That was back when I could see still. And my dad hadn't died yet."

Without any apparent concern for things like decorum or manners, Layla reached out and pulled Matt's sunglasses down his nose and then completely off. She squinted at him. She remembered Jack Murdock. She even remembered his kid. Only, like Matt said, he hadn't been blind. He didn't have the scars around his eyes that Matt had now or that weird white film over his eyes. What color had his eyes been? She couldn't remember, but she could picture him now. Probably like eight or nine. With eyes that worked. "We were in elementary school."

Layla picked Matt's hand up and put his sunglasses in it. How strange was it to run into a kid she'd gone to school with? Especially here. "I heard 'bout your dad dying when I went back. Last fosters were in the neighborhood. They tried to sort of update me on what had happened since I left after my coma girl trick. And, y'know, everyone else who remembered me tried too. We're you like four and a half feet tall then?" Why was that so amusing? Layla wasn't sure, but Matt was just barely taller than her now and he'd been shorter than her back then. That thing about girls and growth spurts happening sooner was so right.

"Hey! Give those back!" Matt demanded, not liking that she took his glasses from him, but he didn't grab them from her hand. He could have if he'd needed to, there was plenty of noise for him to get a rough outline of her now and where her hand was that clutched his glasses. People didn't like his eyes, they bothered them, so he wore the glasses.


"Yeah, we were," he agreed, grateful when she gave his glasses back and slid them back up his face. "Got hit by a truck when I was 12, that's what blinded me. Dad got hit about a year later for not throwing a boxing match," he trusted that she would pick up on the different uses of 'hit' there, "Been in the system ever since. And you know, I grew. So'd you, too." He'd grown a couple inches over the summer too.

She shrugged, realized it was a pointless gesture now and then shrugged again to herself because she decided it didn't matter to her either way. "That blows. So you've been bounced around, what, like three years? Shit, way to make me feel like some sort of fucked up veteran or something." She didn't exactly mind foster care for the most part. She'd met plenty of people with more fucked up situations who lived with their own parents anyway. Having your parents didn't guarantee you some sort of happy life. Jack had been a drunk. That's what the people around the neighborhood had always said. Layla was willing to bet life wasn't rose petals and honey for Matt before his dad got taken out either.

Layla spun on the balls of her feet, taking in what she could see of the grounds before her gaze settled on the giant fucking house again. "So what's the deal with this place anyway? This guy came out and gave me the ad pitch and all that shit. I mean, he seemed cool, but I figure he's supposed to say how people are generally cool and the place doesn't suck and all that. Who the fuck says 'yes' if you tell them the place blows, right?"

Sticking his tongue out at her Matt bent down to get his book, "Hey, you been to juvie or rehab? Then leave the fucked up-ness to me, okay? I had a foster dad for a minute, until I took a baseball bat to him for messing with the other little foster girl they had there. After that I got sent to group homes before ending up in rehab going through detox and then here," perhaps a bit simple, but from his point of view, he'd been dumped and dumped and dumped. A problem no one wanted. Except here. His dad had been an alcoholic, but he had been his dad. Matt had dealt.

"Who was it?" Matt asked, curiously. It depended really, because there were people who would say that this placed sucked in some ways. "And...you pretty much can't get kicked out of here. They're used to dealing with fucked up kids from fucked up situations who can't control their powers and stuff. But you gotta go to the classes they tell you to go to and at least try, which isn't so bad. There aren't many students, so you get a lot of personalized attention. It's not all stiff though with uniforms and stuff," he didn't mention stuff getting blown up, the attacks, the teachers being superheros in their off time and all the other craziness. "Not gonna say it doesn't have a downside, but...it balances pretty well."

"You're totally drinking the Kool Aid," she said with a disappointed tone and a light shove at his shoulder. "I see how it is." A moment later laughter followed and Layla smiled. "It was Kyle that came to the city to, I dunno, recruit me or whatever. Like I said, he seemed cool but I figure he has bias or a vested interest in getting me to sign on the dotted like or whatever. But if Battlin' Jack's rebel offspring is drinking the Kool Aid too..." Layla laughed again. "Either they have some really awesome Kool Aid or maybe he wasn't embellishing."

An an almost after thought Layla added, "And no, no juvie or rehab. I'm a fucking star pupil in the grand scheme of foster kids. I think the eyeliner started throwing some of them off the 'oh, she seems like such a nice kid' thing like a year and half ago or something like that." She peered up at the doorway. "I could probably get my ass thrown out. I have a knack for it. Shit, dude, even when I'm not trying I piss them off outta, like, nowhere. I'm awesome that way."

"Kyle's cool," Matt assured her, "I work with him for my powers. He gives you the straight stuff, always. The downside of this place is that it's....well, you know the X-Men? The mutants who stop other mutants from like, taking over the world or whatever? They're here. The teachers, actually. So...sometimes stuff here happens. Kidnappings. Attacks. You know, stuff," actually, in some ways it was just like parts of New York, like Hell's Kitchen. "You can piss off a lot of people, but they won't kick you out. I accidentally got high while here, it was a powers malfunction, I had no way to stop it or knew it was about to happen, but it set back my rehab and all that. They didn't tell my social worker. It was good, because then I'd have to go and get reevaluated and stuff. There's a doctor here though who took care of it so it's all good."

That was sort of a lot to process. "Whoa, okay, hold up. People get kidnapped and shit because there's superheroes or some shit? Are you fucking with me?" Matt didn't look like he was about to crack a smile and tell her he was. "I thought I was fucking kidding when I dubbed Kyle a kitty superhero 'cause of his mutation. There's really people who are all 'we fight the good fight and keep bad mutants in line' and shit? Dude, where the fuck were they when that crazy bastard took over Manhattan?" Actually, maybe they were there. Weren't there rumors about mutants helping fight against that Apocalypse guy? Maybe that was them. But then how'd they get into the city? Nah, it was probably just mutants who already lived there.

"That was them who stopped him," Matt informed her, "Not me. I'm just barely starting self defense...that doesn't involve a bat. And I was still in Manhattan when that all went down. I just arrived earlier this year," he didn't know the details, but he knew that much, "Kyle's one of them. I work with him for powers stuff, since ours are the most similar. He's also the maintenance guy and hooked my room up so that I don't go batshit, it's sweet."

Weird. She was going to live with...superheroes. Who were her teachers. Jesus...that was going to make not doing homework really hard, wasn't it? Dammit. "So you're not just like stupidly good hearing guy? 'Cause, like, why does someone need to work with you for that? Unless you're totally pervy and trying to listen to the girls flicking their beans at night or something." Layla made a mental note that any and all bean flicking should be done as quickly as possible with music on as loudly as possible to cover up any stray noise.

Matt snorted, spluttering, "No!" he protested, "First of all, I have enhanced senses, other than the obvious. The blindness is not powers related. I can even get shapes sort of like a sonar from sound. And secondly, my room is soundproofed. And has an air scrubber. So if you wanted to...flick your bean, then I wouldn't know anyways," and even if he did hear it, well, it wouldn't be the first time. He'd heard that before. And sex. And worse. He'd lived with his powers in Manhattan after all. "I don't really want to hear that stuff. That's the whole point of my room, so I can go somewhere and relax. No roommate either."

Her laughter over his reaction to bean flicking was cut off by a groan at the word 'roommate.' "Ugh. Jury's out on my roommate situation. I've had to share rooms before, but some people are fucking ridiculous to share a room with. Like this one chick who didn't believe in bathing. Or, well, she'd claim she just forgot to bathe all the time. So I maybe sort of started dousing her in buckets of soapy water. It's not like I could forget for her to bathe. Bitch's stench was like overpowering."

He did not want to think about girls masturbating. Nope. Not at all. Well....not unless there were two of them and they were in his room with him and well...yeah. Matt, despite his bravado, was woefully ignorant of women overall. They hadn't much been in his life. "There are only two guy students right now, so we have our own rooms in a suite. Also, my powers means I don't share. But the girls all do. It's not so bad," at least, he rarely heard of the girls complaining. "I would do that too. Force scrub her. Ugh. Sometimes I want to do that to my suitemate, but he's learning." Matt had shared plenty of rooms in his time and even when he had lived with his dad he had slept either on the couch or in his dad's bed depending on where the older man had passed out. They'd only had a one bedroom apartment though.

"I figure if whoever I'm stuck with is disgusting enough I'll just hide dead shit in their bed or the drawers or whatever. And then when I end up whatever-ed enough it'll come back to life and they'll end up with a really gross surprise." Layla said this in an offhand, almost careless tone as if she was considering a bologna or ham sandwich. "So, anyway, what the fuck do they use all those rooms far? This place is fucking huge. Is there, like, two hundred people living here or something?" Two hundred was probably a little more than it could handle. Well. Maybe. Maybe not, though. Depending on how many people were in a single room and how big the rooms were and how many rooms there actually were in this place... Layla had slept four to a room in one foster home. It wasn't so bad, she'd gotten the top bunk.

"The girls aren't so bad, really," Matt insisted. "The school used to be bigger I think...but regardless, this is Professor Xavier's house. He renovated it into a school years ago. It's his family estate here though," and to think he said this almost nonchalantly. Clearly, he had been here too long. "It's huge. And really, really cool." Like, a plane came out of the basketball court sort of cool.

A rich guy. It was one thing for it to be a boarding school with a soft spot for trouble makers and mutants, but it was some rich guy with a family estate. What, like he couldn't think of anything better to do with a mansion? "Is he some sort of freaky pedophile or mutantophile or whatever? Or is he one of those weird do-gooder types who wants to go out and save the world and everyone in it so he takes in foster kids and shit to help make the world a better place and make up for his past sins or whatever?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded. Not to the pedophile part, because that would make him go find a baseball bat, but the rest of it. "He....I dunno.I don't talk to him all that much. But he's a mutant and he doesn't have kids so he started the school to teach them. So far, he's never done or said anything shifty, at least not that I know of. I don't see him much, he's pretty busy," the teachers weren't all weird and stuff, not well....not so much. Other than putting on leather jumpsuits sometimes. "A lot of the teachers here used to be students."

"Wow, so like once you check in you never check out?" Layla cast a more critical eye toward the building now. Some rich dude who was a mutant wanted to collect mutants and they all got so fucking Stockholm that they never left? Lame. "Whatever, they can try to care bear stare me or whatever they want." Then Sandy appeared in the doorway and started to wave Layla inside. The blonde sighed, grabbed her skateboard from the car and picked up her bags again. "Looks like it's my cue to meet the wizard. Guess I'll see ya, Matt. Since, y'know, it's like an inescapable fact of life or whatever now."

"Good luck with that," Matt laughed, going back to sitting with his book. Damn, but he did not want to read it. Nope. Boring. He was pretty sure that Layla wouldn't be very boring though.