Layla & Adrienne, Layla & Kurt | Monday

[x-mandelbrot.livejournal.com]

In her wandering after classes Layla finds boiler beach...and her history teacher. Their conversation takes some very odd turns

Warning: for jokes about hillbilly incest

Layla was still trying to figure out where all paths led. The lower levels were mostly off limits unless you were in need of medical attention as far as she could tell. And this place totally skipped the usual school nurse, went straight for the uber smart doctor types and the state of the art medical whachamacallits. Maybe that was standard issue with your own personal super secret superhero squad. Whatever.

Layla tried another door in the hallway, this one was unlocked. She knocked before opening it since she had no clue what was on the other side, then poked her head in. "Oh, cool." The room looked like a beach, sand, wave sounds and everything. She pushed the door open further and stepped inside. It couldn't possibly be as big as it looked and those couldn't be real waves, but damn did it look real.

She spun around in a circle to take in the shore and the endless beachfront until she spotted the woman laying out behind the door. "Oh, hey, sorry. Were you having, uh, a private moment with your book and the sun lamp and channeling your lizardy ways or something?" Layla's eyes wandered away from the woman, who she was pretty sure was her history teacher, and over to the lapping waves again. "'Cause I can go. And come back later. Wait, am I actually allowed in here? This isn't like someone's secret love nest or refuge or hidey hole or whatever right? 'Cause you left the door open and I knocked first."

Trying to decide which question to answer first, Adrienne slid her sunglasses down her nose and set the history book she was reading down in the sand. "You don't have to go," she smiled. "You're definitely allowed. It's a public place for anyone who wants to channel lizardy ways, although I should add a disclaimer that it's most likely been used as all those things before. But not by anyone who can claim ownership of it. What do you think?"

"Wait, what do I think about what? You being a lizard, love nesting with your book, digging a hole in the sand to hide in for a super literal hidey hole experience or just the room, like, in general? 'Cause I try to be pretty accepting of lizards. Y'know, geckos and shit are cool. So are snakes but I guess they aren't lizards. They're like the drunk uncle to the lizard, you know the one you never invite to the family reunion but who always shows up and embarrasses someone? Probably when he eats a relative whole. Snakes are really inconsiderate that way. If you wanna love nest with your book, that's fine, but kinda awkward and you should probably lock the door since love nesting probably doesn't usually involve your clothes staying on. There are kids here, you know, and you're supposed to be a responsible adult," Layla admonished complete with wagging finger. "I'd recommend against a hole to hide in because sand gets everywhere and you'd be washing it out for weeks. Or so I remember but it's been a really long time since I've been near a beach for more than just walking so I could have a skewed memory of it. And the room..." She trailed off, picking up her spinning where she had left off as she admired the faux beach room. "This is the coolest fucking thing I've found here yet."

Adrienne blinked as the young woman spun around, trying to absorb everything she'd said. "Would snakes really eat lizards and geckos?" she pondered aloud, and then wondered why she chose that particular topic to latch on to out of the plethora of topics that had been presented to her. "I thought they just ate... I dunno, mammals and birds. I don't know anything about snakes but it just seems to me like snakes eating other reptiles would be a type of... cannibalism? Or incest? Something like that?"

"I dunno, it'd be like us eating monkeys and don't people eat monkey brain? Or is that just cow brain? Dude, either way, why are people eating brains? Is it like premature zombie-ism? Like you get started on brain eating from a early age and then when you kick the bucket you come back searching for that tasty, tasty grey matter because it gives you wings like Red Bull or something?" Okay, that didn't even make sense to Layla but it sounded good so she wasn't going to revise. "But anyway, I dunno what all snakes eat. I know they eat rodents because if you have big snakes you need to feed them mice or rats. And I think the smaller ones eat crickets? Crickets are insects which seem sorta related to reptiles in a weird way that probably only makes sense in my head so that's like...I dunno, eating your second cousin for dinner? Which probably isn't as bad as it sounds if you never liked Becky Lou to begin with. And being slaughtered and turned into meat pie isn't half as bad as living your whole life with the name Becky Lou anyway."

"Almost as bad as Cindy Lou Who," Adrienne answered. "I think to get a head start on zombie training you'd have to eat liver and tongue and heart as well as brains? Or do zombies just eat brains? I thought they ate the whole body... at least, in movies, you always see them with chunks missing from their stomachs and arms and stuff, so I always thought they ate more than brains. But I suppose they could have just gotten those wounds as they were being zombified?" She hadn't seen a zombie movie in ages. "Is Becky Lou a shepherd, by any chance? Would she make shepherd's pie?"

"No, Becky Lou is a hillbilly. She's got five babies, a drunk husband who's also her second cousin - because that's legal in most states so she can pretend it's okay and their 'love is pure' - a problem with alcohol and three missing teeth, all them visible when she smiles, talks or cackles like the stupidly loud redneck she is. She lives in the backwoods of Alabama and tries hard to make moonshine but mostly what she makes kills the plants. It might kill the people who test it too but she only gives it to strangers unlucky enough to be passing through. Just in case, of course. But then there's the tragic accident with the dog. It's okay, though, they got him stuffed. Well...they stuffed him themselves and of course they didn't do it right so he's all skin and bones with stuffing instead of organs and they've gotta spray him with Fabreeze all the time because he fucking wreaks though they're too stupid to figure out why. But they can't get rid of him. The baby sleeps with him at night."

After all that Layla paused, then started to look confused. "What about eating tongues?"

Adrienne nodded as she followed Layla's explanation about who Becky Lou was, looking impressed with her backstory, but then was thrown off by the comment about tongues. "Cow tongues. People eat them. I've seen them at the grocery store." She knew her way around a grocery store like a champ now, which was a stupid source of pride for the woman who hadn't ever set foot in one until last month. "I think you're supposed to boil them first. I wonder if Becky Lou eats cow tongues. And hey, isn't her latest baby also her own grandfather, too?" She was enjoying this weird game or storytelling experiment or whatever it was way too much.

"I think tongue is too high class for Becky Lou. She's all about the spam and the sloppy joe's. And corn dogs. Corn dogs are like the holy grail of class for Becky Lou. So's having all your teeth and more than three shirts, though, so we probably shouldn't let her set standards for the rest of us or anything. Though she's got an impressively huge beehive thing going on because Amy Winehouse is her idol. Wait, is it too soon to be making derogatory Amy Winehouse comments again? I'm always confused on those rules. Which is stupid because she was a fucking train wreck before she died and I do not get that thing where people feel like after someone's dead they need to paint them in rainbow fucking colors and dress them up like saints. Dude, they are dead, not secret inductees to the holy order!" She shook her head and sat on the sand. It was definitely real sand. It was even warm like real sand but she was pretty sure those were heat lamps overhead which would explain it.

"Becky Lou's dead dog cuddler isn't her grandfather. That's impossible, she'd have to fuck her grandmother for that. You got that birds and bees speech where two girls don't make a baby without a turkey baster, right? He is, however, also her uncle. But don't tell Jethro because he really loves Becky Lou and he'd be heartbroken if he knew she went and cheated on him with her daddy that one time."

"I was thinking of that song, 'I'm my own grandpa'," Adrienne explained with a smile, "the fact that it was biologically impossible due to the fact that they're both women escaped my notice for the moment. I figured what with all the incest going on there was some combination that would have made it possible.

"And I don't think it's too soon to be making derogatory Amy Winehouse jokes," she added with a shrug. "I think if you want to say something about a dead celebrity, you should be able to say it."

"I'm pretty sure it's impossible to be your own grandpa," Layla told her as if she was explaining something to someone a little slow on the uptake. "You'd need your daughter to give birth to you. I guess you could be your own step-grandpa but that's not really like an official term or whatever I don't think. Also, that's really fucking sick. Who looks at their granny and is like 'damn, I'd like to tap that?' and then marries her? If you're going to be the incest clan you should at least have the decency to not marry each other like that."

Adrienne recited the song for Layla, which she'd memorized due to hearing it in a reading at some point in her lifetime. "So yeah, it was a step thing I guess, in the song," she added after she'd finished. "But maybe because step-grandpa is not an official term that's why they just say grandpa? I dunno, I'm just quoting it. Doesn't mean I'm endorsing it," she shrugged.

"I don't think the step-thing counts past parents, siblings and kids. Like, people don't talk about their step-uncle, they talk about their step-mom's brother or their step-mom's dad instead of their step-grandpa. I don't think the step-father of your step-mother counts as your step-grandpa." Actually, the whole thing sounded really fucking stupid to Layla either way. How did anyone ever get that song made? "But I bet that's Becky Lou's theme song."

Her head was beginning to hurt trying to follow this now complicated topic. "That makes a pretty pathetic theme song," she mused, "but yeah, it sort of suits her. Do you have a theme song, or are you not easily quantified into song lyrics?"

Completely offhand, Layla answered, "Criminal by Fiona Apple." She let that information really sink in before cracking a smile. "I'm totally fucking with you. I don't have a theme song. You know what's funny? If I read the lyrics to all these songs I love they are totally fucked up. Like, you have got to be seriously dysfunctional to be a musician or artist or whatever. Or maybe it's just that the dark stuff sells and if you want to write about stuff not blowing you need to do pop music and yeah...no. Not going there. It's like, love or angst, that's all there is."

"You're right," Adrienne agreed with a nod, "and the part that gets me is that love and angst has been selling for hundreds of years. I'm a history teacher, so bear with me a moment here, but even if you go back to Middle English ballads and operas written during the Enlightenment and Beethoven and Puccini and shit like that, everywhere in the world, the music that has endured has always been predominantly love or angst. And the musicians have always been seriously dysfunctional," she grinned. "It just makes you wonder, what the hell does that say about us as a species? And where the hell does that put pop artists in, say, three hundred years? Do they have any longevity? Probably not. Is anyone gonna remember 'it's friday, friday, gotta get down on friday' in three hundred years?" God, she hoped not.

Layla blinked and stared at the teacher. "Did you just quote...Bieber at me?" From the tone of her voice it was clear Layla wasn't actually sure that's who it was but it was her best guess. "Because that is so disturbing on so many levels and I might have just lost all respect for you." She actually shuddered as she shook her head at the woman.

Adrienne laughed and buried her face in her hands in mock horror. "It's not my fault! I live in a school! I spend my days with children! Just you wait, soon the same thing will happen to you, it's some sort of brainwashing thing they do here, I think. You can't escape it! But in my defence, it's not Beiber, it's that youtube chick, I forget her name, it was a big internet pop culture thing in the spring... But just you wait and see, with this journal system they have here soon you'll be getting inundated with dumb music videos and links to cats made out of pop tarts too! Stay away from Doug Ramsey and Kyle Gibney and you might get out of here with some semblance of maturity, but even that's iffy." She left out the fact that it hadn't been the journal system that had led her to look up the Rebecca Black 'Friday' song. "Wait, you respected me before this?"

The kid shrugged. "It's a default thing adults get until they do something to lose it. Most manage that within a month. You're not near the record for quickest to lose it if it makes you feel better. Even if your excuses for whatever that song was are pretty weak. And no talkin' smack at Muppet Yoda. Sure, he's a muppet and he was replaced by tech but he's still the original and that makes him awesome even if he's outdated." This nickname was really working out for Layla. She could draw parallels in so many ways that were accurate. Except for how Kyle wasn't green.

"I have no idea what Muppet Yoda is or how I was talking smack about it, which I suppose loses me even more respect," Adrienne smirked. "But I don't think the song thing should count, as I was using it to illustrate a point about how shitty it is, and therefore my knowledge of it was purely academic. If I'd said I enjoyed it, though, then yes, that should by all means count." She wasn't going to tell Layla anything about her love for the Spice Girls, however.

Layla pointed a finger at Ms Frost and narrowed her eyes, which meant all that black eyeshadow just seemed to swallow her eyes leaving nothing but the slits of white and blue to stand out in contrast. "You knew the song well enough to quote it. Maybe even accurately. Which means you had to know the song in order to do it. You might not put it on for parties but you've listened enough to memorize part of it. Still loses major points. And Yoda is Kyle. But he's a muppet because he failed me so I had to upgrade away from him." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone the Bald Guy had given her. She showed Ms Frost the back of it which was clad in a Yoda-green phone cover. "Yodaphone was his upgrade. I keep the Muppet around for novelty now," she told the woman and grinned.

"Oh, come on, I knew one line and like half of that was repeating the word 'friday'!" Adrienne defended herself, incredibly amused. "Besides, like with the 'I'm My Own Grandpa' song, it's not my fault I remember crap like that, it's part of my mutant power! So maybe I don't get points but I think that should earn me a stay of execution, at least.

"And I like the Muppet Yoda thing for Kyle, now that it makes sense," she added with an impressed tone to her voice, "but he's Shoeless Joe to me. I happen to be very fond of him, so I wasn't talking smack, just illustrating the point that he loves to share weird shit he found on the internet with the mansion and that it's impossible not to get wrapped up in it."

"Totally talkin' smack," Layla insisted good-naturedly. "He was wearing shoes when I met him and I haven't run into him much since I showed up here so," she shrugged. "I take it Yoda doesn't do shoes much if he doesn't have to? And wait, your mutation makes you remember really bad music? Wow. Talk about having the short straw. I thought zombie roadkill blew but I'll take it over getting incest songs permanently lodged in my brain, thanks."

"Zombie roadkill is a lot better than what I've got, yes," Adrienne assured the young woman, not actually correcting the assumption about what her powers were. After all, she'd gone months thinking Garrison's power was to call moose and beavers. Learning what people could actually do was part of the mansion experience, in her mind. "And yes, I don't think he does shoes much. He's rarely worn them when I've encountered him. Unless there's just something about me that makes him compulsively need to remove his shoes, or something..."

"Maybe you have two mutations and the second one causing people to strip off articles of clothing or something," Layla offered. "I mean, hey, I've been sitting here the whole time going 'why am I still wearing my Docs and socks when I could be barefoot in the sand?' So maybe it's specifically a barefoot thing. Like a passive mental suggestion that barefoot is the way to be. Only you only notice it with the Muppet because his feet are huge or something." Kyle was also just enormous in general but Layla figured she'd leave that out because that could so be taken the wrong way. "Maybe it's a new mutation so it's not strong enough to make us all barefoot all the time around you. Muppet Yoda's just weak that way. Wait, is it even possible for someone to have two mutations or whatever?"

"I'm fairly sure it's possible, yes," Adrienne answered. "Doctor Grey-Summers is both a telekinetic and a telepath, whereas some other people here are either one or the other, so I'm fairly certain secondary mutations exist. That must be it. I must be manifesting a secondary mutation that's been passive all this time except around Shoeless Joe because of his large feet." She couldn't believe the theory the young woman had come up with- it was incredibly creative and intelligent, and the psychometrist thought it was brilliant. "You're an incredibly bright young woman," she said with a smile.

"That's right, I'm a genius," Layla proclaimed with the bravado only a teenager can exude. She even buffed her nails on her shirt in all her smartass glory. "Lookit that, not even here for a week and I've solved your mysterious barefoot acquaintance issue. You should probably let Muppet Yoda know that he's not really that against shoes, it's just your influence. You are the anti-shoe goddess or something. Maybe you should start dancing under the moon in sheets or something. You know, really channel your barefoot goddess...ness."

"Only if people build some sort of shrine or site of worship to me," Adrienne stipulated with a grin. "I wonder if we have, y'know, standing stones or an altar or something on the grounds somewhere? And you could use your zombie roadkill powers to, I don't know, sacrifice something to me but then bring it back to life so no one has to feel guilty about doing an animal sacrifice because that's kind of gross." Oh crap, was she starting to talk like Layla?

"You could probably have an altar built for you. You don't want one of those ready-made altars," Layla advised with an air of someone who knew much more about these things than the girl really did. "They're temperamental and things never turn out for you like they should. You could have a stone altar built. There's probably enough big rocks around for it. But there's one hiccup. I dunno how to bring things back to life on purpose. It just sorta...happens sometimes. I need to work on that before people start sacrificing to you. And I think it's gotta be strictly a smothering thing. I don't heal stuff, I just bring them back to life so if you go and stab your sacrificial cat in the heart and I bring it back? It starts bleeding out of the wound and dies all over. And that's seriously fucked up." The entire thing with her powers was fucked up, but for the first time she realized it maybe wasn't so bad. If it wasn't wounds that killed it and she brought something back to life it could be okay, right? Except poison would still be in their system. And disease would still be there. So...really suffocation or drowning was about the only time her mutation was useful. Wow. Still fucked up.

"Ew, yeah, that is fucked up," Adrienne agreed with a shudder. "I may be an evil bitch, but even I'm not evil enough to want to kill cats and then have them bleed to death in my name. But hey, in the ancient times Greeks used to sacrifice a portion of their crops to Demeter and Ceres and those sorts of agricultural goddesses, so maybe we could ask that people only sacrifice vegetables and grain and like, chocolate to me. I think I need an altar even if there won't be any animal sacrifices. You're right about the big rocks- there's a quarry on the grounds. I should get people to start building an altar right away."

"Shouldn't they sacrifice shoes to you since you're the anti-shoe goddess? Or socks maybe if you'd rather be the barefoot goddess. That one sorta has a better ring to it. I mean, you're not an agricultural or fertility goddess so why give you crops? Besides, these people don't exactly look like farmers and half their burger as a sacrifice?" Layla made a face, somewhat grossed out by the idea of sacrificial McDonald's sitting there for days rotting away. "What if you didn't check your sacrifices and now shit's rotting away and getting moldy and then next thing you know you're the maggot goddess. Let's go with 'uh...no' and stick to like socks and shoes and sandals and shit, 'kay?"

Adrienne had a good long laugh before nodding to the young woman. "Okay. That sounds perfect. I used to run a modelling agency... before I became a teacher, so shoes sounds doubly perfect for me. Much better than maggots." God, where did this chick get this stuff from? It was priceless!

The blonde's brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed a bit. "Doesn't modelling have more to do with not eating and doing your best hanger impression for ass ugly 'couture'?" she even used the fingerquotes, "Seriously, the shit you see on runways isn't anything people would be caught wearing like at a party or on the street. Except really fucking weird people. Like Bjork."

"Yes, but we're not talking about ass ugly 'couture' clothes," Adrienne conceded, "we're talking about shoes. As a symbol for me as a goddess, because..." Oh crap. Layla had a really good point there. "Oh, fine, yes, it has to do with pretending to be a hanger and showing off ass ugly 'couture'," she admitted with a pained expression. Wow, did that ever feel good to say! Who would have thought that she'd finally come to terms with losing her business and settling fully into the life of being a teacher because a teenage girl had made her feel embarrassed about modelling? "But that's why I'm not in the modelling business anymore, that's why I became a teacher," she explained. "Even though I still love shoes. When they're not weird or ass ugly."

"I don't get the shoe fetish thing that chicks have. They get all 'Oh Gucci!' 'Oh Prada!' but they look like the same fucking generic black strappy heels. And they look really fucking uncomfortable to walk in. Like, what's the point? Do guys have an ankle fixation and it's all about framing their ankle or something? Because I'm pretty sure the ankle stopped being hot and bothered inducing like a century or two ago. Ankles are not risque when people regularly walk around with what amounts to pasties and a g-string half the time." She paused and considered her slight exaggeration there. "Okay so mostly they wear that on, like, Brazilian beaches, but still. It's all hangin' out so ankles aren't hot. So what's the appeal? How many compliment you on your shoes other than chicks and gay guys who are also obsessed with shoes? Seems pointless."

"I think," Adrienne responded after she'd thought about all of this for a moment, "that for your term assignment in my class, you should do a report on the social history of high heels, as in, what reasons people in past societies had to wear high heels, or other items of clothing if you prefer. Because you're right, the appeal of high heels did start because people wanted to show off ankles which were risqué at... a certain point in time, but why did it continue? You're asking really good questions, but there are a lot of answers to be found in how society functioned at various points throughout history, what gender issues were prevalent at certain times, that sort of thing. Or you could do a report on the history of ritual sacrifice," she shrugged.

Without missing a beat Layla responded with, "I'll do ritual sacrifice, thanks."

- - - - - - - - - - - -


Later in the evening Layla happens upon her German teacher in the gym and continues to extort complete and utter awesomeness from him.

Not having been here for very long, Layla didn't hold it against herself that she still wasn't quite clear on all the rules of the place. She had been told them, but she'd also gotten a lot of information when she'd first shown up - including the reality of a secret vigilante superhero team. The fuzziness for the rules had her hanging around the mansion's grounds more often than not, thought it made her a little twitchy to be honest. She'd gone into town with Artie the other day and that helped stave off some of her confinement but she couldn't remember if she was allowed to go into town alone. There was also a curfew of some sort she had to adhere to but she couldn't remember what that was either. Layla was used to getting out of school and skating all day and turning up for dinner and probably going out and skating again until like eight.

Her reluctance to break rules so soon into her new placement had the foster kid wandering the mansion again. She was trying to make sure she'd memorized the map Yvette had given her. Hearing a noise in the direction of what she thought was maybe the gym, Layla detoured from her route to go investigate. When she found was her German teacher soaring through the air. He leapt and Layla realized there was no net beneath him. Sure, she knew he could just disappear and reappear on the ground or on the trapeze bar but it didn't stop that moment of her stomach jumping into her throat. It seemed like forever that he hung there in the air, spinning in slow motion until he caught the bar in his hands and swung back in the other direction. Layla knew it was her brain's moment of holy shit that made it seem like slow motion and that he didn't really slow down time...but holy fuck. Did he really just do that?

Layla trailed further into the gym to watch Herr Sefton. She wasn't sure if he would mind the audience but figured if he did then he should have shut the door.

He didn't seem to even notice he had an audience for quite some time, all his focus on what he was doing as he flipped and spun in every direction. Finally, he came to rest, hanging from the trapeze by his feet and to all evidence completely comfortable doing it, and smiled down at her.

"Hello, Layla."

His smile drew a beaming grin from the blonde girl. "Guten Tag, Her Wuschelig." Layla's head tilted until she was leaned over with her head turned over as much as possible. She was obviously trying to look at him right side up. "I didn't know you were part flying squirrel," she told him before righting herself.

"I have always thought of it as part cat", he said easily, swinging back upright before she put her neck out. "But perhaps a touch of flying squirrel as well. You were exploring?"

"I don't think cats can grab bars all that well. A cat would've fallen on his ass really quick into that and then got up and pretended nothing happened and we saw nothing and aren't you supposed to have a net? I mean, I know you can do the whole poof disappear and poof reappear over there thing, but still. Net. Nets are good. They catch people. Actually a net might even be kinda fun to fall on. And still, no effort to poof needed. Didn't your mother ever tell you that you need to be a good role model and that role models don't let kids drink and trapeze? Or trapeze without nets? Or ... uh... something." Layla scratched her head. That one had sort of gotten away from her, hadn't it? "And I was mostly trying to make sure I memorized the map of the mansion Yvette gave me so I can stop walking around staring at it and sometimes running into the wall because, hey, sometimes walls come outta nowhere, okay?" Her eyes darted around the room, a look of innocence stealing over her features. "Especially if you're staring at a map for too long..." She even added a whistled tune to enhance her innocent act.

"I certainly would not let a kid trapeze without a net," he said with a grin. "Not at first, at least, but I have been doing this for a very long time and as you say, I can teleport. I hope the mysteriously appearing walls did not bruise you."

"Just my ego," she told him as she walked over to where he was. Of course, Kurt was hanging in the air so she didn't stop near him so much as under him and then looked straight up at him. "So how long have you been a...trapeze artist? Trapezist? I dunno what the actual title is. Where'd you learn? It's kind of a random skill, you know? Is there a net? You know, for examples of responsible trapezehood and shit." Her tone implied she was asking for other reasons but she didn't come out with those yet. She was still weighing it. Kyle had said he would teach her to do cool flippy stuff. On mats. Big, thick mats so she hopefully didn't break her neck. And this was cool flippy stuff but in the air. It wasn't like she was afraid of heights or anything. And it was fucking awesome.

"I grew up in the circus", he told her. "Just a small one, run by my family back in Germany, and when they realised what natural gifts I possessed, when I was barely walking... we do not like to waste things. And since the teleportation did not come until I was fourteen, yes, there was a net."

"That's good. If you weren't walking the net's kind of important. Baby wuschelig go splat and that would be so not cool. I don't think seeing if the baby bounces is the sort of selling point your family would've wanted." She paused for only a half beat before asked, "But is there a net here?" Obviously she hadn't been clear on that before.

"Oh!" He smiled apologetically. "I misunderstood. Yes, we have a net in one of the store rooms, for if anyone without the ability to teleport would like to use the trapeze. It is not here only for me, after all."

"Are you the only one who knows how to use it here? Or is being a flying through the sky badass like a general ed requirement for vigilante superheroes in the field or something?" That whole superhero squad in the mansion thing would probably become something sort of normal and not so totally fucking crazy eventually but Layla wasn't anywhere near that point yet. A jet came out of the basketball court and people went out to try to save the world. Like Buffy.

"I am the only expert at using it." He shrugged. "The basics are not so hard to learn, I think - and I think most of those of us who fly do so under their own power, like Warren. This is only recreation for me."

"Who's Warren?" Did she know who that was? The name didn't sound familiar. Layla mentally put Warren into the random dude who can fly category. Dismissing the whole idea of the stranger, Layla smiled up at her teacher. "How easy is it to teach the basics then?"

"The blond man with the big white wings," was the casual response, then he smiled back. "Easy enough. Why, are you interested?"

Her smile grew back into that beaming grin Layla had given him when he had first noticed her presence. "Yes! Like, world of yes! C'mon, how cool would it be to know how to do the trapeze? And then I could always have a career as a circus performer. You'd be giving me the building blocks for a lifelong career defying gravity!"

Kurt laughed. "And how could I deny you the chance of that? Of course I will teach you." He stood up, toes curling automatically around the bar, and teleported to the ground.

The girl's nose wrinkled at the scent that seemed to come with her teacher's appearance on the floor. It wasn't like a terrible, knock-you-on-your-ass kind smell but it was sorta pungent. "I wonder if the Prof will give me school credit for learning how to be a flying squirrel," she mused allowed.

"I think I can probably persuade him to see it as gymnastics", Kurt said cheerfully. "It is certainly strenuous enough."

If she was the touchy-feely sort Layla probably would have hugged the man but she liked her personal bubble right where it was. "Awesome! Herr Wuschelig, mein favorit! When do we get to start? Are we going to have, like, regular lessons scheduled just like a normal class? 'Cause that'd be pretty badass."

"I cannot see why it should not be a normal scheduled class," he agreed. "I will look at the times of your other classes and let you know?"

Layla actually bounced. She would, of course, deny it if anyone ever mentioned it but there was definitely a bounce. "Badass! You like cookies? I am totally going to make you cookies for this. That hopefully aren't burnt."

"I have a personal rule never to turn down cookies", he said seriously. "Even ones that come out slightly burnt."

"Snickerdoodles! I can totally make snickerdoodles. From scratch. Because I am awesome that way." Layla could not stop grinning. Herr Sefton was totally and like irrevocably her favorite. All other teachers could not be as awesome as a guy who would teach her how to catch a trapeze while mid-air!