[b]Lynn[/b]

Lynn had completely crushed one plate of food - four chicken tenders, fries, and mac and cheese - and set it to the side by the time Archie had come a-knockin'. It would probably take sharper scientific minds than Ms. Holmes' - which is, come to think of it, not saying much - to determine whether Lynn's food consumption was just her power catching up for reheating her, or a girl trying to put a dent in the tremendous caloric debt she'd racked up in her nutritional ledger. Lynn ate quickly and feverishly, not stopping to savor the food or enjoy the flavor. As she ate, she glanced around, and periodically picked up her spoon and surreptitiously held the back of it angled to look over her shoulder. If one were watching Lynn intently, one would have not only fueled Lynn's paranoia, but one would also perhaps see a food baby forming as she ate. 

Then this guy comes along.

Lynn did not respond at first. That was a bitch move. 

Lynn took another bite (green beans) and chewed. Her hair, from the roots, slowly began to turn a light blue, streaking up towards the ends of her hair. Tightly bound as her hair was today, this was a bit more apparent than it would normally be. Lynn glanced over at him, and hit a wall of sudden confusion. Why had they bound this one up? Lynn figured he had to have some real wild ability to justify it. [i]I could thrash him,[/i] Lynn thought, looking him over as she swallowed. [i]Sure he's big, but look at the way he walks.[/i] No tattoos, no nothing. Nose was straight. No cauliflower on his ears. Arms had a bit of wear and tear but nothing she'd raise an eyebrow at. Lynn could tell a burn mark when she saw one, though, and the slightest of grins tugged at the side of her lip. [i]Nice to know who's fireproof and who isn't.[/i] Hm. He looked like he had a little muscle on him, but didn't strike Lynn as one of those gym rat fuckboys. Hard labor? He had a bit of a drawl, too. Lynn figured he was a farm boy. He was tan, but she could see it was fading a bit. Silver Collar Girl was pale too. Lynn thought on her own confinement for the last bit. [i]They were in cells too.[/i] Lynn tugged up one of her sleeves, revealing a tattoo. The sleeve had been rolled up some five or six times, and began creeping back down Lynn's skinny forearm as she turned back to her food.

Then the Addams girl. Lynn didn't pay her much attention. She looked tired. Lynn figured they all were, but this shit looked deeper. She looked like she got laid off or something. [i]What's she hiding?[/i] That silver collar certainly wasn't there by her choice. She was certainly frail and skinny too, but not like Lynn. No, this one was skinny by choice. That pissed Lynn off a bit. The girl had close to six inches on Lynn, and Lynn knew where that fuckin' came from.

She swallowed her bite and took another. The girl said her name. Natalie. [i]Wednesday[/i]. Natalie and Archie. Hm. Lynn didn't really see what these two were bringing to the table. Archie was trying to make friends, which annoyed her. To Lynn, the only viable form of networking was offering someone a cigarette or approaching them for the sole purpose of informing them that you had followed them on Soundcloud. [i]But,[/i] the other side of Lynn's mind thought, [i]They were strapped up for a reason too.[/i] Neither looked like they were in the same boat as Lynn was - Lynn didn't see any tattoos on either of them, and she was willing to bet neither of these two had really been in lockup. Maybe a superpowered bender. That made Lynn rethink her initial conversational opener. That meant these two were packing some heat, especially if they still had the anti-werewolf choker on Grey Eyes. As for Farm Boy, Lynn wasn't sure. She'd figure it out. Lynn always got an answer.

Just wasn't always the right one.

The possibility that this guy was hitting on them, what with the sexual kink opener, never once crossed Lynn's mind. She didn't have much experience in flirting. Surprisingly. 

So if these two were the big dogs in the joint with her, she wanted to see what the hype was about. They had the redneck bound up like that cannibal guy in that one movie (marking the one and only time Lynn had wanted to be a cop, and the only reason she had not fought her juvy-mandated counseling sessions. She was disappointed with who she was assigned to). They still had this girl bound. Alright. She'll play ball. Lynn figured it was as good a chance as any this guy was trying to see what [i]she[/i] was about, and see if he should throw the first punch or not. The dicks were out and Lynn was more than willing to slap a ruler down first. Gray Eyes - Gray Eyes was not having it. Gray Eyes wanted to be alone. Now in Lynn's experience, that usually meant that Gray Eyes was packing a yard stick when everybody else was bringing a ruler. Not that it bothered Lynn. She'd gotten her ass beat by some strong motherfuckers before, and she could take it again. But Gray Eyes - or Natalie, or whatever - really didn't seem interested. [i]This one listens to coffeshop music.[/i] Cool by Lynn. Alone meant not starting shit, and Lynn wasn't looking to start shit (at least, this was her internal narrative. Innumerable other sources could contradict this claim). But the fact of the matter was that Lynn knew how the Man played ball. They were being watched. They'd gotten bound up tight. Now these other kids, she was sure they could pull off some fancy tricks too - maybe somebody has .45's for fingers or something - but the three of them were on the radar from the get-go. This was familiar territory for Lynn. But she knew they might need an eye out for each other. At the very least, to make sure one of them wasn't trying to make sure they weren't the only big bad wolf in the woods. [i]I'm nobody's fool, Farm Boy.[/i]

"Lynn." Lynn said, taking another bite. She took her time. The blue crept up from the bottom of her irises and her hair alike without Lynn's knowledge, a flicker of red dancing along the edges. Lynn rolled up her sleeve again. She washed down her bite and turned to look at them in earnest, idly twisting a french fry in some ketchup with her hand. "Where are you from?" she asked.

Lynn, in another life, one in which she had a modicum or two more respect for authority and perhaps a stronger sense of legal ethics, would've made a very fine detective. She liked the game. She liked figuring out when other people were planning their sucker punch on her. Then, it was just a punch, and they were the suckers. She'd see what they were up to. She'd see what game he was playing.