xp_logs | Artie and Maya, Tuesday afternoon

Artie and Maya meet.

It was a nice day and as he was in the mansion for once, Artie had taken the time to head outside, sitting in one of the chairs on the patio, a pitcher of iced tea to one side. He had his feet propped up on the table, tablet resting against his knees, trying for a sense of normalcy after the last few days weeks months. He was staring fairly intently at the video, occasionally hitting pause to stop and repeat sections back to himself to check what was being said.

Maya had needed to get outside, and it had seemed like the back patio was an excellent place to take her art homework and simply chill. That was until she saw that it was already occupied.

"Hi," she vocalized, not wanting to sneak up on the guy. "You going to be here long?"

Artie shrugged expansively, giving a mental teenagers and gestured at the tablet and pitcher. He gave the girl a pair of raised eyebrows and a second smaller shrug before pointing at a chair and indicating that she was free to sit down regardless.

Maya rolled her eyes but sat, pulling out her sketchpad and pens before settling down. She'd noted the signing going on in the video on the tablet.

"You deaf?" She signed.

Artie shook his head. "Nope, hearing. I've got a forked tongue and can't talk." The signed explanation was brief and simple. "But I sign and catch videos sometimes."

"Least you can sign at all," Maya replied, again in sign but slightly quicker this time. "Are you one of the inmates?"

Artie gave her a sarcastic smile. “I grew up here. I'm not an inmate. I'm a fixture."

"Great," Maya signed sarcastically. "So are you one of the relentlessly cheery ones or one of the 'we're special snowflakes that know better then you because we're old' ones?"

"I don't believe in being cheerful. Gives me ulcers." He looked at her carefully. "I have to ask - is being deaf part of your mutation or are you just lucky?"

"I won the genetic lotto, by which I mean it's not a mutation but it is a genetic fuck you," Maya signed, crossing her legs under her on the chair and pulling her pad open. She switched to vocalisation as she began to sketch him. "This is homework, I don't really think you're cute or anything."

Artie let her sarcasm slide and looked over at the sketch. "Not bad. You studied art before?"

Maya had caught only the tail end of what he said, her concentration more on her sketching then making sure she could see what he was saying.

"No, my mutant power is actually to create amateur art pieces that I can sell after I pretend to be dead." She replied, giving him an 'are you really that dumb?' look. "My Dad taught me when he wasn't off killing people for money."

Artie tapped the table sharply. "You want to maybe can the sarcasm a little, kiddo? I've never met you before. I don't even know if you're doing art at school. And I don't care if your father is a merc. Whatever."

Maya flinched and would have pulled back if she had anywhere to go. She bit her lip softly, the heat in her face speaking to her embarrassment even if it didn't show through her complexion.

"Sorry," she signed, feeling a little out to sea. "I like to draw, makes things make sense."

She was looking back at the page again. Artie gave a wave of one hand to catch her eye. "I get that. I draw a bit, too. I'm Artie, by the way."

"Maya," she offered tentatively, filling in details she'd only sketched before. She kept flicking her eyes up this time, keeping an eye out for his words. "What sort of style?"

"I tend to go for pretty photorealistic stuff. You know, take a photo, trace over it. That kind of thing. I prefer to work with video or light but sometimes I draw. You?"

"I do a little of everything, but I really like the impressionists," she replied, going silent as she pulled out the coloured pencils and started to add a little shade. She looked up again after a moment. "Sometimes things don't always look like what they are, you know?"

He burst out laughing at that. "I'm not laughing at you!" Artie explained. "But my powers - I'm pretty much an illusionist. Things never look like they seem around me."

"So, Copperfield, hiding the Statue of Liberty or those grifter types that play find the lady on a sidewalk?" Maha asked, her eyes suddenly showing signs of interest.

"Option B. Want to see?"

"Sure," she said, putting her pencils down and concentrating on him fully. "Give me the full show."

Artie tapped the table, where text suddenly scrolled across it. "So, I could show you .... a cafe I know in New Orleans or I could just let you take a look at this." An arrow pointed at the patio railing and an image of Artie smiled, walking forward silently.

Maya reached out to touch the image and smiled when it kept moving under her fingers.

"How are you doing that?" She asked verbally with an awed tone as she looked up at him. "It's like a silent movie. Can you do less realistic styles?"

That illusion vanished and a cartoon figure waved from the edge of the pitcher. Artie nodded, guesting at it. "Yep." He let it vanish. "My power is..." How to best explain it? "I use psionic energy - the stuff telepaths use - to make illusions. But they're out here - you can film them or whatever, but they're absolutely intangible." He hoped she'd gotten the explanation. "Gotta ask you, though - can you stick to ASL? It's not real communication if we're using different languages and I might as well just start writing everything down at that point." His disgust at that option was very clear.

"Of course," Maya signed, pondering his explanation. "How long did it take you to learn how to control it?"

"My whole life?"

"You were born a mutant," she signed - more a statement then a question. "Was that hard?"

"I don't know. I don't remember being born." Artie held up one hand to forstall Maya. "Honestly, yes. It kind of sucked until I moved in here and even then, parts of this sucked. You haven't lived till you've been chased by actual fucking dinosaurs. And by lived, I mean, I'd rather have missed that."

"You're shitting me," Maya signed, giving him an expression best described as disgusted. "Are you some sort of crazy person? I didn't think Xavier's was a half-way house for the insane as well."

Artie laughed at that. "It was a camping trip. Nature reserve, you know. Maybe six years ago. We didn't know about the dinosaurs. Just thought it was old plants, camping bullshit. Yvette..." he stared into space for a moment, missing her. "she got eaten but sliced her way out. So, our campsite was here," he traced it on the table, figures springing up as he went. Faces he hoped to God he'd never see again attached to strangers. "The camp guides were gone when we woke up. And that's when the first wave of dinosaurs attacked up. The raptors followed." The campsite sprang into animated action as he finished tracing the movement of the depicting signs.

"So, what happened?" Maya signed, looking up from the display. "You obviously didn't die."

"We were rescued. Eventually. After fighting dinosaurs. Weirdest weekend of my life."

"Does stuff like that happen here a lot?" Maya signed, wondering if maybe her family were in the safer of their two positions. Mercenaries could kill you, but they didn't usually come with a side of dinosaurs.

Artie stared into space for a moment. "Less so these days. Demons, though - you know magic is real, right?"

"My Grandfather is a medicine man," Maya signed, rolling her eyes. "Why?"

"Because demons are real, too, and it's worth making sure you know that now, rather than later."

"You must think I'm touched," Maya responded, her previous hostility returning. "Unless you're also wanting to interest me in a bridge to buy."

"Think what you want to think, but I'd advise asking Billy or Amanda about it." Artie replied with a shrug. "Things are different here, you know?"

"Things are different everywhere," Maya signed, pushing the drawing toward him now she'd finished. Not her best work but it wasn't bad. "And I will ask Amanda, she's meant to be training me anyway."

Artie looked it over carefully. "Not bad. What are your powers, then?"

"Thanks, and I don't really know yet," Maya admitted, looking uncomfortable. "Something physical."

"You don't know yet? Huh. Let me know once you figure it out." Artie'd known that she was new - the kids always were but she was new-new.

"Well, it's sorta physical," Maya replied, wondering how to explain the fact that it only seemed to work when she was startled right now. "I mean, I tried to stab Wade, that's what got me sent here."

"I'm sure you had a good reason for that, too," Artie replied.

"He startled me and I didn't really think about it," Maya admitted, still feeling horrible about the whole thing. "Why are you being so nice? Not like I'm giving you much reason to be."

A shrug. "You stabbed Wade. He annoys me. So... Also, not being nice, just not being actively terrible to you. Different things."

"Well, tried," Maya corrected, whatever her mutant power was it gave her skills but not always the experience to use them well. "Are you likely to start being actively terrible?"

"No." Artie shook his head and clarified, lines of projected text running through the air "I use writing and speech synthesisers to talk to these people. Most of them can barely sign. Why would I be a jerk to someone I can have a real conversation with?"

"I noticed that," Maya signed, and then waved at the implant that was currently hidden in her hair. "I have to keep using this thing and then they think it means I can hear everything. The suck at remembering to face me when they're talking."

Artie nodded, the frustration familiar to him. He'd taken his ASL classes at a bilingual school, one of the hearing kids in the class. "Most of them will get the hang of it eventually. They're just ignorant, not actually trying to be dicks."

"Yeah, I don't really dislike any of them," Maya replied, shrugging after a moment and then leaning back with a sigh. "I just hate being away from family like this. I didn't mean what I said before, Dad always tried not to kill people. There's just not a lot of legit jobs in Lame Deer and he had a skill set."

Artie nodded. "You skype him much?"

"Can't, least not for awhile," Maya signed, a stricken look on her face. "Till they find out who put money out on him it's not safe."

She wasn't used to sharing details of her father's life. She'd been trained to well for that but here was different to anywhere else - these people had just as many secrets to keep.

"Ouch. That's really rough. Anyone helping them with that?"

"Wade, I guess," Maya replied, closing her sketch book and putting away her pencils. "I gotta go, I'll see you later?"

"All right. Catch you later." Artie settled his tablet back on his lap, one Doug's special search routines open to a visual search, ready to feed it an image of Maya as soon as she was out of sight.