[@Fumari]

"Hmm..." Sumat thought Daisy's offer over, placing his lower hands on hips. He certainly took his sweet time rolling the question about in his head, as he tended to do. He was a little hungry, but somehow he didn't feel particularly up to spending more time than necessary in his sun-blocking clothes. He'd already discovered it had mostly been wasted effort, anyway.

"Well, as much as I'd be happy to indulge in such an activity..." He began to say, somewhat apologetically, as he clasped his upper hands together. "...I'm starting to feel rather sluggish after what just happened. It's the suit, you see, it blocks the sun. Makes me cold. That, and... well, I prefer not to draw attention to myself."

He felt like she was at least old enough to know what he was talking about, so he wouldn't need to elaborate. Namely, he guessed that she was in her early 20s at most, whereas Sumat was 28, and it wasn't at all unusual for people to think he was even older than that. He was a little surprised she hadn't picked up on that, in fact.

"Perhaps another time." He continued; under other circumstances, he may very well have said yes, but in addition to the other reasons, he did feel a very slight urge to get on the Internet and find out what fuss may have been raised about the protest. "I suppose I shall 'see you later', as they say. Or, as I say, Alavidā."

When he said that, his native accent once again flared up, as you'd expect when speaking in one's native tongue, and with his upper hands still clasped, he held his lower right hand upright, with the palm facing outwards. It was an Abhayamudra, a traditional Hindu gesture which entails reassurance and safety. He also bowed his head a little bit, just in case she got confused with another, less polite gesture he knew existed in the West.

With the proper respects afforded to the nice lady, Sumat proceeded to walk with great strides, as he did, through the Campus and towards his dormitory building...
-----------

...Shortly after he returned to his dorm building, however, he was greeted by two surprise discoveries. First of all, as part of some kind of pilot scheme initiated by the MutRegAct people, the staff told him, he was given a prototype Mutant ID. It was pretty much identical to his Green Card, albeit with the addition of a single line:

[b]'POWER(S): Additional Arms; Heat Detection; Vibration Detection; Venom Dispension.'[/b]

[@King Kindred]

He didn't think much of it, considering his views on Mutant ID in general; he just took it and moved on; though he doubted that some other Mutants would be so pleased, lacking the responsibility to accept that some people are afraid of them, and rightly so. With this in mind, what was more worrying to him, however, was that he recognised one of the other Freshmen who was living there; he vaguely remembered him being one of the people he saw beat-up outside the Auditorium, which meant he probably fought with the protestors. Admirable, perhaps, but the mark of a fool nonetheless. And maybe he'd try something else what with the IDs now in place.

Trying his best not to think about it, he stomped along the hall (unwillingly, of course), past the rec room where the worrisome Student stood, squeezing his way past the many other Students who had arrived late, hauling around boxes, he soon arrived back at his own room. Without bothering to close the door behind him, he made a beeline for his built-in wardrobe. He opened the door with one pair of arms as he removed his tie with the other. 

He then went on to unbutton his shirt as he inspected himself in the mirror on the other side of the wardrobe door, which took half as long as it would on a two-armed person, and finally slung his jacket off. He proceeded to carefully place his removed clothes on top of the door before stretching his muscular upper body as he stood in the sun, enabling him to take all the heat in, making him feel considerably refreshed.

It wasn't long after that that he decided to leave his room once again, now shirtless, and stomp back over to the rec room, fingering his pocket for spare change. He remembered seeing a fully-stocked vending machine in there, and tried to convince himself to not empty it out single-handedly like he did back at Madison Square Garden. The crisp companies probably couldn't believe their luck that day.