Laura watched the others depart from the jet from inside the hangar with a heavy sigh. She pushed her fingers through her hair, a gesture of exasperation she'd learned from watching too many movies about romance with Jubilation. The mission had gone alright, at least alright as could be expected from their unbalanced makeup. She'd have to talk to the Professor about finding another psychic. It's not that the current team wasn't balanced well, but they simply had no defense against the likes of the Shadow King. All they could do was manage, one teammate incapacitated with one of the most powerful psychics in the world trapped inside her body? That wasn't exactly a clear-cut victory. 

She moved from the hangar to the locker room quietly, stripping and suiting up without so much as a glance. Sometimes she forgot other people cared about that sort of thing, another mental note to check off for next time. The notes helped, she decided, as she finished putting on her jeans, belt, white shirt and boots. She pulled one of Logan's old beat-up bomber jackets over her shoulders. It drowned her a bit, but she didn't mind - it was comforting. 

The hallways were mostly clear by the time she reached the elevator, but less so as they opened up to reveal what looked to be a new student talking with Aya. The smell of fear permeated the hallway like too much cheap cologne, she took a cautious step towards the pair realizing that, well, she could be rather intimidating. Something else was off, though... 

"Is everything alright?" She questioned coolly as she could manage with the sound of their rapidly beating hearts in her ears, her hands stuffed in the fur-lined pockets were clenched. Even after everything, her natural reaction the second she entered a room was to pick the most efficient way to kill everyone and escape. Of course, she'd gotten much better at ignoring it, but picturing the severed arteries of the children you're protecting does little to calm one's nerves. 
---
Melodic, heavily distorted and trudging music played in the green house like an evening drive on opiates. The lyrics were something vague about unrequited love, but the imagery and the way the songstress cooed the words out over the instrumentation was like a white dove flying over a battlefield where both sides lost. The plants loved that sort of music and, well, Bloom tended to agree. 

Appolina sang along at parts, in between stopping to converse with some clematis and making sure her daisies had enough to drink. The flowers were much easier to care for than the vegetables, but veggies tended to have a sardonic bite to them that she adored. Of course, who wouldn't be a bit facetious if their sole purpose in life was to die painfully? Well, truly, they couldn't feel the pain, but she had to imagine it. They were all dear to her, after all. 

She wiggled her bare toes against the dirty concrete with an airy laugh, singing out the chorus at a low whisper punctuated with a giggle. It was hard to leave this place, but she knew she must. There was only so much she could do for her friends every day, but the peaceful air about the green house, the smell and the warmth of life. It was a retreat in and of itself, her own shangri-la.

After a begrudging foot scrub, she pulled on a pair of beat up cream-colored canvas sneakers and headed back into the mansion, through the kitchen. Whose occupants she recognized immediately. "Hey guys, did it go okay?" She asked with a lofty, almost sing-song tone; switching from speaking to plants to speaking to people was always a bit odd for her (and the people she spoke to, she imagined). 

Bloom opened the fridge door, while lightly scratching an exposed tattoo of a ruby throated hummingbird on her athletic waistline - she was wearing a faded grey t-shirt tied up in a knot as per usual. It wasn't a promiscuous thing, though some people might take it that way. She felt more and more like her skin was akin to petals and the sunlight felt like energy, but that wasn't really a preferred explanation. Even around there. She still felt crazy sometimes, but she didn't really mind that if she was the only one that thought that way.

She grabbed a container of milk and moved to the sink after grabbing a small porcelain bowl and the kettle. "Would you guys like some tea? If you don't want black, I'll just heat up the water."