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"You've got everything?" Esther smiled. She was so confident in the way she talked, in the way that she moved. Even her toothy grin exuded conviction and, right now, it wasn't in herself or her new job—it was her confidence in him. That unnerved Harley; it crawled through his skin like fire. Of all the things she could have instilled her hope in...

Esther caught his eyes just as they wandered off. Catching his chin, she forced his head to look up at her—Esther was incredibly tall compared to him, standing at a stark 6'3". She got that from their father, Harley regarded. In fact, she probably hogged most of dad's good genes anyways, all but the one afflicting him now. Grasping his chin, she could directly see the doubt in his eyes: the quivering brows, the blatant avoidance of eye contact, and the sudden submissive slouch in his shoulders. It brought a sigh from her lips as she let go, bringing her hands lower to pat down Harley's arms. He was covered in a navy blue and white Letterman jacket, with a large Wildcat on the left chest, and an even bigger one stamped on the back. At that moment, she was content to just stare at it, suddenly caught remembering a moment that widened her smile. Beneath was his favorite, red [i]Bazinga![/i] shirt, neatly showing between the two opened buttons at the top, of which he could only quietly stare at.

Chuckling, Esther patted his shoulders and popped the jacket collar before nudging him forward. He was early-ish, with enough time to unpack and head down to the auditorium, though he was abruptly stopped midway. "You forgot something, Bozo!"

Between his sister's long fingers hung a pair of thick, black rimmed, square glasses, glaring at him in the morning glow. Jogging back, Harley finally flashed a smile, albeit a sheepish one, as he grabbed the spectacles and began his trek back into the building.

"You forgot something else..."

Fully stopped now, Harley's shoulders slumped forward and, with a sigh, he turned back around to see his sister opening the back door to her Lexus. Of course, he'd forget all of his of things. Handing him a red suitcase and an even redder backpack, along with the case for his contacts, solution and all, Esther brought herself down to peck at Harley's cheeks, embrace him, and finally bid him farewell. The churning of blacktop pavement caught his ears just as he entered the institute and made his way up the flight of stairs where he was assigned a lone room when he had first arrived.

Out of all the kids, Harley was one of the... even more special batch. The unique of the unique, in that he was kind of a danger to anyone susceptible to his powers. He preferred that they not sugarcoat it with words like, 'More Unique' or 'Even More Special' because that's apparently what all mutants were. It was better they just call it as they saw it: a potential danger to most of the student body. Thus, to avoid incident, he was given a room to himself, where he could make good use of his time alone and away from any of the more sociable of the student body. It was how he preferred it, anyways.

Setting his things down, Harley took everything in, let the slight scent of wood and lemons bring him back home. The mansion was old, but well kept, so instead of a dank, moldy smell, there was this hint of spice and wood that pervaded the air, at least to him. It was hard to describe it in order for others to relate, so it was best he simply settled with: it smelled like Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Though, that lemon smell wasn't quite as familiar and usually denoted a swift cleaning prior to arrival. It was nice though. The rest of the room looked as he had left it, with shelves brimming with books from a [i]Brave New World[/i] to [i]Entomology: The Exotic World of the Subterranean[/i]. They were all neatly placed and arranged alphabetically author-wise, down the entirety of each shelf. Other than that, Harley's room was mostly barren, in terms of embellishments, aside from the bare essentials: a dresser, a bed, a nightstand, curtains, alarm clock, and some lights, as well as a desk where his laptop usually sat. He didn't find a use for souvenirs that weren't books or didn't provide any useful function other than looking nice.

Slumped over, with his suitcase wide open, Harley could be seen leaning against the wooden windowsill, quietly staring out at the light blue sky above. He actually probably shouldn't have been in his room at the moment; there was the welcome back orientation that was to take place in a few minutes. It was probably best he make himself comfy down there, and find a spot away from the general crowd that would gather later. But, Harley made no move to leave, simply plastered himself further against the window with a Twins ball cap slopped over his disheveled hair. His feet were fidgeting across the floorboards, squeaking in a careful rhythm while the entirety of his weight rested along his folded arms. It was relaxing, being able to daze off again in the solitude and confinement of what he considered his room—his home, to be more precise. Though, he did need to leave soon, otherwise he'd be late and he assumed Mrs. Pryde didn't appreciate latecomers.

The door creaked open to let Harley out and the rest became a scramble of thoughtless movements. He'd somehow found his way down the hall with Adrien at his side—the sudden realization increased Harley's already skittish nature. Lips were chewed on ferociously, with his heart pounding sharply against his rib cage. It'd been far too long since he had talked to someone who wasn't either his sister or his grandmother. Harley had forgotten how terrifying it was. Not the talking, but the whole moment where he remembered that he was a ticking time bomb. He quietly and nervously waited as they walked and he talked for the hallway to burst with loud noises and the sound of pain that he was so familiar with. Adrien's words completely flew over his head as he tugged the ball cap further down his forehead and promptly squeezed his eyes shut the moment they entered the auditorium to sit down. Mrs. Pryde's words did the same, and he could only squeeze himself further into the chair he'd found himself in.

Looking at Adrien, wide, doe like eyes staring him down from behind a pair of glasses , Harley blushed fiercely as he realized what he'd done. Anxiety had gotten the best of him again, but he quickly wiped the strained expression that he'd been holding since Adrien had bumped into him to force himself to calm down. Mustering a feeble smile, Harley rubbed the back of his head as he sat up and leaned over.

"What was that again?" he whispered, eyes darting over to watch the headmistress, "I'm sorry."