Chris was doing his best to read the pulp mystery novel he held in front of his face, but in a crowded place like this, it was a losing battle.

[i]She lied. She said she loved me.[/i]
[i]Have to find it, HAVE to find it.[/i]
[i]I can't miss rent again...[/i]

Chris shook his head to clear the voices and looked up from his book to see two people in a heated argument a short distance away from where he was sitting in the corner. She rose and stormed up, and he expected to hear a few thoughts of frustration or anger at the bandaged boy in front of her, but there was... nothing. The red-headed girl walking past him was impossible to read. Curious, he reached out, trying to identify any sensation of discomfort: a minor ache, a disappointment, an ancient regret.

... Nope. Nothing.

He turned his power to the bandaged man in hopes of some answers; answers which were forthcoming as he immediately noticed that the apparently injured eye seemed to be bothering him not at all.

[i]But...I could never hurt someone like her...but...I'm also running out of time...[/i]

He inhaled sharply. They were like him. Gifted, and trying to hide it. What was more, she was in danger. He watched the girl leave the library. 

Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed his bag and his guitar case and set off to follow her.