Henry watched Titus with a sort of fascination that he hadn't felt much for in a very long time. This was unlike him.

Titus had always been a big kid and was the strongest around for as long as anyone could remember. When they were younger, that strength and size made him the biggest threat on the playground, and for good reason. Of course, that amount of power had gone straight to his head. Titus had been a bully and had absolutely remained a bully until everyone else started realizing that social influence was a lot more important than raw power. In that time he had lashed out a good deal due to his waning social status and Henry had always been small and weak and generally an easy target so [i]of course[/i] he found himself on the receiving end of Titus' popularity death throws a few times. When he disappeared for home school and eventually returned Titus was far lower on the social ladder than he had been at the start of middle school and had certainly tried his hand again at what he was once good at.

That was, until Henry punched him for it. Maybe it was him being tired of being the only one without an ability and just happy that he had one now. Or maybe it was his own hotheaded mind addled by hunger and falling blood sugar- he and Titus were about the same size them. But Henry never forgot the look Titus had given him. Titus had been floored by the punch, likely unused to taking a hit from anything close to his own size, and his nose and teeth had been absolutely [i]ruined[/i]. Henry remembered momentarily freaking out before remembering what Titus' ability was and braced himself for the incoming retribution. Retribution that never came. Henry would never forget the look of joy on Titus' face. Not from being punched- nah, that had been a temporary setback for the redheaded oaf. Something that was gone within a few hours. But his look of joy at being [i]challenged[/i] by something. Anything. 

He and Titus had been pretty alright after that.

They were both older now. Stronger, wiser, and in Henry's case about five times the size he had been even then. Maybe he didn't see it when combating the golem because he had been so focused on not dying himself, but he certainly saw it now. It was that same air about him as it had been all those years ago. For the first time in a long time, Titus wasn't just another of the school's brutes. No, he was a hero.

So was he, Henry supposed within his own head. He found himself staring at Titus and Elle out of the corner of his eye as he sorted the table out for another round of cup pong with surprising dexterity for someone without proper fingers. The difference between them is that Titus had the chance to get the girl and Henry had always left Chad's parties with a few friends or alone. Not that he could blame any of the girls- the other options weren't so big they could step on them and not covered in scales, but in this moment Henry felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time: Small. And powerless.

He looked around the room and realized that he and Titus had flipped again. Titus' reign had ended a long time ago and this whole high school experience had been nothing but a cresendo into moving on to something else. Henry on the other hand had spent so much time relishing his popularity that he had been unwilling to let himself think much about what could come after when he was the weird new kid again. Except this time he was in a furry costume that he couldn't take off. He'd be alone again, as he always had been deep down, but alone socially. He was jealous of Titus. Jealous that he had everything Henry had- incredible strength, size, could heal and be a hero... and he was human. He looked at Elle and realized that Titus could get the girl if he played his cards right. Henry would probably never be dealt in.

Henry sighed, and reminded himself to speak to a therapist sometime between now and the end of the school year to sort out these intrusive thoughts, and decided to remain close by. Elle had always been nice to him, even when he was small and weird and weak. She'd invited him to things even if he had been more of a pity vote than much else (not that he could blame her). Titus usually meant well, but if she rejected him and he was too high on his horse to take it well he was probably the only one that could drag his ass outside to cool off without bringing the house down. He couldn't imagine being hit on by someone three times his size and twenty times his strength. As he rose up from under the table with the previously dropped pong ball, he caught Elle's eyes.

[i]Dont worry. I'm not going anywhere.[/i] He hoped she understood. Hoped that she felt some sort of safety in a room full of giants that one had her back. It was a fraction of a second, and he was likely nothing but a fool for banking on it, but he'd be here all the same.

That's what heroes do, he supposed. [b]"Alright, who's looking to kick my ass?"[/b] Henry bellowed.

He was terrible at beer pong.[hr]

Dexter had always enjoyed parties for the music. The normal day to day was so slow it was unbearable. Especially in Calc, but parties were so much fun- and not for the reasons one may think. Sure, the drinking and the smoking was a blast but after his dad, alcohol put a bad taste in his mouth and he had never been a happy drunk. No- it was the music. People like Henry could detect it in different ways but Dexter could [i]perceive[/i] it. It was so small, and even he could never see it if he wasnt paying attention to it, but during particularly thumpy or good songs, he could see the air [i]dance[/i]. It was like a mirage on a hot road, but softer and in time with the beat. Every festival, every party, was an audio-visual experience beyond the flashing lights and dancing.

And the best part about it was that it was all his. Nobody else seemed to ever see it- they probably couldn't, when a second feels like five minutes, one has the time to become impossibly perceptive. He saw Chad reach a hand out and Dexter grabbed a Smirnoff ice- Strawberry Lemonade- he had seen Chad pilfer through a pack for that flavor pretty consistently at the events they had been at together and it had been confirmed to him at last years bonfire. Dexter squinted, his mind calculating the toss more than a few times over and as soon as the line was clear, underhand tossed the drink to Chad who caught it without even looking. A feat in itself.

He continued moving through the house, likely appearing as if he was dodging around someone sneezing and narrowly ducking and weaving around extremities when to him he was just [i]moving out of the way[/i] because he wasn't a huge fan of being touched. Dexter found himself in the kitchen with the War Pig, who was in the process of pulling up his pants- which had a curiously large wet mark on them. Dexter opened his mouth and spoke without thinking.

"Mateo, dude, that's a sink. Not a toilet. Are you okay?"