[i]Collab with DrugMother[/i] Gene's pythons were wrapped closely around her neck as she fiddled with her long pointed nails. The peanut gallery was certainly larger than she had ever expierenced. Though, their stares were just as insignifcant as those of her servants. The assembly hall was suitingly packed with children of varied ages, ethnicities and mutations. She held a very casual air of authority to her posture as she glared at the individual whom was heading the event with an incredulous eye. He seemed to tepid to be the supposedly prominent figure, Alan Portwood. The suit he wore was certainly of an agreeable quality, his body type certainly suggested that he was well fed. It was presumably his warmth that his voice and feature's exuded onto the audience. She felt almost instantly repelled by the forgien characteristic. It was overbearing to listen to, it crept up her spine with an acrid, almost perverted quality to the sensation it envoked. When the hall errupted in cheers, she rigidly shot upwards, glaring in disgust at the volume of the auidence; her pythons hissing aggressively at the people who sat beside her. Some of the students promptly silenced themselves at the audible threats of the albino's serpents that decorated her head. She rigedly started to count down the second until the fat man's preformance was over. Gene hoped that these events would be as sparce and infrequent as humanly possible. She remained seated until the rest of the student body left the assembly hall. There was not a chance in hell she was going to be uncomfortable crammed between those children as they ran to the door. "---And well you must be Geneviève Simmone!" A blond woman's voice rung out, overtly cheerfully, inviting her over with a beckoning of her hand. The last couple students were clearing out after recieving whatever information this woman was doling out. "You are going to be rooming with Cordelia Lynn Holmes in room 222! " "Rooming? Do you mean I have a foster....mate?" Gene asked dubiously. "No, silly! Like A roommate!" She replied, handing her a form. Gene was not wearing her glasses, so the form written in a second language was of no current use to her. "Excuse me. This concept is not exactly, one I am well acquainted with." "---You are telling me. I have a partner to my room....like I have to use this room...in a partnership...." Her voice was incredibly skeptical, her face contorted into a full grimace as she symbolicly slide the sheet back. "Of course you silly...snake! oh, hahah silly snake, I kill me..." The woman giggled to herself, Gene glared at the woman in disbelief at the horrible nature of both that joke and the situation. "..." Gene was not bemused by this interaction at all, she promptly side eyed the woman before dismissively turning away. ------------- After Gene had created a large enough scene to have a custodian deliver her bags to her room she promptly followed the disgruntled worker to her dorm. It was mainly a ploy to figure out where she was suppose to be staying, but partly because there was no realistic way that Gene would ever carry her own items. "Here we are." A gruff voice grumbled under a scruffed beard as the individual began to shovel her many bags into the room where an unordered servant was standing. "Are you my foster child?" She asked, turned off by the idea she was sponsoring some poor to do child. "----Where do you sleep?" -------------------- There wasn't an overt sign of Lynn's fury, but it was good she was facing away from Snakes when Gene walked in. There was a flicker of homicidal intent followed by the slightest twitch of her right index finger, the subtle way her body temperature spiked a few degrees. Roomies, cellmates, same deal. She'd done this dance before. This was...less than ideal. Borderline cruel. Lynn waited to reply for a moment, scanning the room. She'd done a once-over, checking for cameras or anything-if there were any, they were hidden too expertly for Lynn to find them-but this almost seemed like a practical joke, some cruel, unethical psychological experiment. Lock the least compatible lab rats in a cage. "I hope I'm not your foster child," Lynn sighed, turning around. Her hair had shifted since Gene had last seen her-the normal brown was a soft red, and it seemed to shimmer just a bit in the fluorescent light. Her eyes were a similar hue, although much less pronounced-gentler, like the glow of a campfire. "I've filled out that paperwork before, it's long as shit.Don't think my stuff'll take up that much space," Lynn realized this would probably come off as a jab to Snakes-to an extent, it was, but she had to remind herself adversity wasn't getting her anywhere. Smiling faces. Happy thoughts. Not being sent back to juvy. Rinse, wash, repeat. Lynn paused, realizing there'd be a little standoff if nobody decided on anything. "I'll take bottom bunk and that area," she said, pointing towards the dressers and desk-ugh, a desk, were they actually gonna have, like, homework and shit-to the right. "Unless you want those, in which case, we can flip a coin for it or something." She paused. Offering it up would be...a bitch move. Not bitch in the sense of gossippy and manipulative, but bitch in the sense of...lesser. Beta. Lynn had old habits burned in hard-having to run with some of Chicago's less savory types was an unforgiving experience, and doing it as a 5'2 Caucasian girl even moreso. She'd learned being assertive as a second nature. Scowling and telling people to fuck off was a means of pre-emptively putting your foot down. But Snakes hadn't, Lynn was willing to bet, ever dealt in that kind of world. "Or if you, like, really want it, that's cool too. I don't care one way or another." Lynn pulled her sweatshirt up over her neck, pulling up her tanktop underneath for a moment. Her clothes weren't going to be featured in Vogue anytime soon-the trusty old sweatshirt got slung over a shoulder as she pulled her tanktop back down. For a moment, however, the bottom of her stomach was exposed, with the silhouette of her ribcage pressing against the flesh, a handful of old scars and the base of the tattooes peeking out. Her other markings ran down her arms, and Lynn pulled her hair back into a bun absentmindedly, her hair and eyes slowly and smoothly flowing back to brown. "No big deal, you know. Just, uh, whatever." She paused, feeling like she was missing something. "Oh, yeah, I'm Lynn. Happy...being roommates, I guess." She extended a hand to Snakes, her palm likely unnaturally warm. Well, they wouldn't have to argue over the thermostat, at least. Gene quickly noticed the mild raise in temperature as she slowly fanned her face. If her roommate was too firey then she might sweat. That would be absolutely awful, especially in these clothes. Sweatstains are attrocious to remove from versace satin. She noticed a small change in color in Lynn's hair that seem to correlate with the temperature change. Gene looked the small girl up and down with scrutnizing eyes, evaluating the tiny girl with her yellow eyes. The pythons curled affectionately around Gene's arms, their scales embracing her soft ivory skin. The nonchalance of her posture was one that insinuated she felt no need to be intimidated by the human-lighter. "Are you talking about that paper that woman tried to hand me?" Gene asked with a casual tone of disinterest, leaning herself up against the window that guided steady streams of sunlight upon her shoulders. She shuffled through her purse she pulled out a compact. She paused at meet eyes with her roommate, briefly trading glances with the bunk bed's that perplexed the gorgon. "Take what you want. I'll just wait until my bed arrives." She mumbled, applying a thick coat of matte lipsticks to her lucious lips. "What is your view on...cocaine?" she asked bluntly, putting her makeup away as she leaned farther into the wall, eyes staring coldly at Lynn as she awaited her answer. In spite of herself, Lynn grinned-shoulda guessed. "Depends on who's asking," Lynn replied somewhat cautiously. She was no stranger to the underworld-she'd ran coke a few times, narrowly avoided getting busted a few others. One of Lynn's scars itched at the mention of the word, bringing back the thought of cold barbed wire, howling dogs...she blinked it away and focused on the issue at hand. She'd never messed around much with it herself-drugs didn't seem to do a whole lot for Lynn, save alcohol. She figured it was her mutation, and she was partly correct-the girl's heightened internal temperature denaturalized a great many chemicals, good and bad. Metabolically and literally, she burned through stuff far too quickly for it to have much of an effect. However, she knew this sort of game. There was a chance Snakes was asking because she planned on bursting every blood vessel in her nose tonight. And there was a chance Snakes was asking because she, perhaps correctly, assumed Lynn knew some people. But there was also a chance Snakes didn't want to share a room with her, and Snakes figured she could pin her with something on day one. Lynn had made her fair share of mistakes, ranging greatly in stupidity and severity. Getting burned on drug charges on day one wasn't her style. Just how hard she was going to try and stay in this place, Lynn hadn't decided on yet. Felt like a cage. Lynn didn't like cages. But the alternative might've been a hell of a lot worse. Lynn was very rarely blessed with numerous choices-she didn't enjoy throwing what few she had aside. More to the point, Lynn figured that was tacit approval for claiming wherever she wanted. Lynn hurled her duffel bag against her corner, figuring she'd unpack it...well, maybe never. There was something final about unpacking. She hadn't unpacked her backpack, well and truly emptied it, in a good many years. Never knew when you'd have to leave in a hurry. Besides, she figured they'd be looking for excuses to kick her out. Whether Lynn's paranoia was justified (or, perhaps more accurately, whether the "undue" attention she received was her fault), she never figured she'd last a week. Maybe these other assholes thought about the future. Here and now was more Lynn's style-future was intangible. Future was for rich, snake-haired chicks who had money to waste on lipstick. Couldn't be disappointed by the lack of said future if you didn't unpack your bag. Lynn's ethos was strange, but morbidly efficient. She sat down on her bed for a moment, testing it. Damn. This...Lynn adamantly maintained that she took shit from no one, followed nobody's orders, and could not and would not be bought out, but...this was nice. A room. Even if she had to share. A bed. With pillows. Christ above. "Yeah. Any other ground rules we need to cover or something? Haven't had a roommate in..." She paused, considering that, perhaps, the real answer would not get her off on the right foot with Snakes.She didn't need her new roommate accusing her of stealing all her stuff. That would be completely unfounded. After all, there was no one to fence it to here, there'd be no point in stealing it. "....a while. I don't really care what all you do as long as I can crash in here whenever." She went for a cigarette and stopped. "Shit, can we smoke in here?" -----s s Gene's face twisted in unpleasant confusion at her roommate's reply. She figured the girl could not be as stupid as to honestly asked that, but could not risk the chance of the scruffy looking teenager being this stupid. "I am...." Gene retorted with a acrid bitterness, stroking the chin scales of one of her pythons as they moved liesurely around her. "--Well, omitting legality, I can keep your morality ...on a 'all inclusive....auhmm....vacation'." Gene carefully phrased, her thick accent purposely feathering out her bribe. Gene was not expecting her offer to be turned down. Living as an isolate heiress, not many of her requests were turned down; and if they were, the promise of cash always changed their answer. Money had been the lubricant to her life so far, the underground drug trade she had ran through her father's house, the secret outside outtings with more risky servants and the ultimate pancea to all the issues she had come across. She was aware that some facilities had repercussion if an individual on their campus is found to be in possession of drugs. She was also aware that large, anonymous donations often found a way of erasing evidence too. Gene did not fear discipline or repercussions because there was nothing that could be done to really affect her. Even corpral punishments were of null effect to Gene, who exhibited a spiteful contempt for her own life. "--Ah, I'll pay you to covet the herion too.."Gene nonchalantly added, watching her roommate twiddled around the room like an animal in a cage with the malevonlent eyes of its' predator. "I don't see why those are required. We remain civil and knock twice to clairify it is one of us who is going to enter the room...." "I do not smell any cigarette smoke, and have not since entering this building. They probably make us smoke outside like the gardners..." Gene sighed heavily, gesturing at a fellow whom stood smoking outside of their window. --- Like the gardners. Lynn's lip curled up a bit as her suspicions about Snakes' wealth and, just like all people with wealth, arrogance were confirmed. Yup. This was going to be a long ass year. And she was pretty up front about these illegal requests-shying right away from designer drugs. She'd pinned Snake for the type to take Mommy's happy pills, maybe take Adderall when she just couldn't possibly hope to finish her AP Homework in time. No, she'd gone for the real hitters. Lynn surveyed Snakes for a minute. It may have been the, well, snakes, but she had trouble gauging whether or not the girl was bullshitting here. Lynn typically had a pretty good filter for what was true and what was not-and, barring that, she tended to err on the side of everyone trying to screw her over. It wasn't a happy way to live, but Lynn was still kicking, which was more than could be said of a decent number of her friends. Vaguely, Lynn wondered if they had access to TVs, if she could get a Chicago news channel on tomorrow. Check and see if she recognized any of the names scrolling across the bottom. "Yeah, probably need to smoke outside," Lynn said, sliding the cigarettes back into her pocket. She grabbed her sweatshirt, engulfing her unhealthily thin frame underneath baggy cloth once more. She squirmed around in it a bit, reassured by the way it felt. The thing was old and faded to hell but damn if she didn't love it. That hoodie had seen some shit. She rolled up the sleeves, baring her tattooed forearms once again, and rolled her shoulders a bit. "I don't know what tihs all-inclusive vacation shit is, but I'll level with you. I'm hungry and not in the mood to beat around the bush. I can get my hands dirty. Not afraid of that. But something tells me if you and me both get pinned with something, your ass is gonna be able to afford a lot more lawyers than mine." She paused. "No offense. If you're throwing that high a risk my way there'd have to be one hell of a high reward, especially considering I'm up to my ass in risk as it is. Plus," she said, "I'm of the belief it never hurts to act like somebody's listening." she glanced at the walls, the window. "In a place like this, I figure it's pretty much a given. If they don't have cameras watching us, there's some superpowered sixth grader trying to mind-read the chicks in the floor above him. I'm not looking to get in anything deep. Not the first day." She paused, her voice feeling oddly tired. This...may have been the longest conversation she'd had in a little while. Last week or so had been a lot of paperwork for the Institute and the Man alike. She had a pretty neutral level of disdain for Snakes-anyone with a steady income garnered that from Lynn, and anyone who didn't have to worry about steady income especially so-but if there was money to be made down the line, who knew. Running drugs was something she'd done before-but the streets of Chicago and the Institute were two very, very different places. Lynn didn't trust people as a rule of thumb-so saying she would wait until she could trust Snakes would be fundamentally flawed-but until she could rely on her, well, that'd be a while. There was still one hell of a chance that Snakes was just stringing her along, and Lynn had played the puppet one too many times before. Plus, well...Lynn's fingers danced at her sides, itching with anxiety. There was a real chance of really fucking this up. She wasn't delusional-not in the conventional sense. Part of her had always assumed she could scrape by, she could roll with the punches. But Lynn was just getting older, and in a few months, she'd reach the milestone of eighteen years. This meant draft cards and registering to vote for most. In the circles she ran in, it usually meant you'd been in the ground for a while. She fucked up here, and her life expectancy lost a few decades. Wasn't much way to sugar coat it. Going straight, well, that was....that was a lot. But going straighter. Maybe that wasn't so bad. Probation, damnit. Don't fuck this up Lynn. You have a bed. And food. There is a rich bitch trying to ruin this for you but you won't letter because you don't get played because you are motherfucking Cordelia Lynn Holmes. And, hey, there were kids here. Lynn liked kids. Getting a ring set up here might've pulled some major cash for her (probably pocket change for the Gucci-clad Medusa), but there were some real ugly risks strung up with that. "I'm headed to the cafeteria. Something about a feast? I'm starving, those fucks kept us waiting for that bus forever. So, yeah, catch you later." Lynn grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulders, the familiar weight tugging at her shoulders. She was pretty good at finding her way around-Lynn spent a lot of time walking, wandering, and had developed a number of skills as second nature. Keeping track of where she was, that was a big one. No use getting lost in a shitty neighborhood. Always have a way out, that was a good rule to go by-and there was no way to go by that rule if you had no idea where you were. She found her way to the cafeteria relatively quickly-everyone and their dumbass brother was headed there, so it wasn't tricky to find. And find it she did. Four years of wandering in the desert and she had been brought to the land of milk and honey. She....didn't have to pay for this shit. It was just included or whatever. Lynn stopped cold for a moment, just staring and taking it all in. Her face scrunched as she took in a comically deep breath through her nose, her scar wriggling as she just looked at the hustle and bustle, the sheer number of silver platters full of...food. Lynn did not cry. This was a rule, akin to the rule that things that go up must come down and the rule that any movie cop about to retire must die. She did not. But if she were the type to cry, there would've been tears. She walked forward hurriedly, forgetting her (admittedly unorthodox) brand of self-discipline in the light of all the splendors the cafeteria had to offer. There was just so much. Lynn didn't give a shit what it was, she piled her plate high with everything. She walked entirely down one of the buffets, forking meals onto her tray that made more than a few of the grown men in line stop and do a double-take. The normal woes of finding a spot to sit, having someone to sit with-she didn't give a shit. Hot meals were a luxury. Christ. This was...this was... Going straighter was not that bad. It was even doable. Lynn scanned the cafeteria quickly, her shrunken stomach unable to wait much longer. The others. They just ate idly, a few even glancing at their servings with disgust or irritation. How? How? Lynn walked quickly, her tray actually beginning to strain her arms a bit, as she found the silverware, haphazardly throwing utensils on. She grabbed a drink, didn't really give a shit what, and moved to the closest table. She slammed her tray down, looking at it with her mouthwatering and her eyes almost matching. This....Christ. Sweet merciful Christ. This everyday? As often as she wanted? She could just...go and get more? Lynn took a brief moment to say grace, which was something she had not done in many, many years-she and the Lord were not on the best of terms, but this seemed a just occasion to do so-and gave the table around her a quick lookover. She cursed her lack of situational awareness-she was normally good about staying alert, and she had entirely missed the dumbass who was standing on top of the table, asking about everyone's power. And there was...Cain? Kane? Ken? He'd been on the bus, Lynn remembered his face. She almost said something snappy to the table kid ("Mayo like the shark"? Huh? Lynn figured she misheard something) perhaps to question if he got his table-dancing tendencies from his mother, but remembered that time spent talking was time not spent eating. With zero regard for etiquette, asking how everyone's days were, or the usual small talk, Lynn began devouring what was on her table, the tiny girl putting away almost as much as the rest of the table combined.