institutesamples | (no subject)

This school was his last chance at a semi-normal life and Hotstreak knew it. During his most recent time in juvenile hall, the latest anger management therapist to try to counsel him had made some gains. She was encouraging, a good listener, and didn't act like she knew everything. When she asked about his life goals, he'd struggled to come up with a list and started to get annoyed with the task until she asked about finishing high school. Which brought him to the present. He did want to at least graduate from high school, if only to figuratively spit in the face of people who doubted that he could.

He hadn't been expecting much more than a normal high school, only filled with mutants. Now that he was here and had been through the tour, he was actually optimistic about the time he'd be spending here. The school grounds were a change from downtown Dakota. There was a hangar bay with a real jet, and a place specifically for training powers called the Danger Room. The school gym was pretty well equipped - enough that he'd be able to keep up with his usual weight training routine, anyway.

Then there were the girls. A lot of them were hot. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever seen such a high concentration of good looking girls anywhere other than the nightclubs he'd snuck into with fake ID. If nothing else, he was more motivated to try to be friendly and sociable.

For now, though, he had a math class to get to. The map of the school grounds was helpful enough, but not for finding specific classrooms.

"Stupid map," he muttered.

Lorna seemed to be in no big rush to get to her next class. She walked slowly on her high heeled boots, holding onto her messenger bag to minimize the way it bounced against her hip. The halls were somewhat quiet today, which made a certain muttering stand out more. Curious, she took a turn toward the noise and peeked down the hallway.

Oh, she recognized that look. A new student, looking at the map as though it betrayed them. She really needed to speak to Charles about drawing up new ones. For now, she hoped she could help on her own. In her pretty green corset and leather pants, she approached the boy.

The very large boy. Oh, my.

"Uhm, hello," she greeted him with a friendly smile. "I do not believe I have ever seen you here before. My name is Lorna."

He glanced up from the map when he heard her voice addressing him and when he turned his head to look at the girl who was talking to him he had to give her a quick once-over. There were two words that came to mind: pretty and green. That was a lot of green for any person to wear, and judging by her eyebrows, green was her natural hair colour. It worked for her, though. As did the corset.

Reminding himself that he needed to get to his class, he resolved to make sure to keep his eyes on her face.

"Hey," he said. "I just got here today. I'm Hotstreak."

Or were they supposed to use their birth names here? He didn't know and didn't care. Like hell he was introducing himself as Francis. He'd never liked his first name. He supposed he could switch to Frank, but he didn't like the name Frank much, either.

The heiress adjusted the strap of her bag, trying to find a more comfortable position to put it in. Something very obvious kept getting in the way of that. Perhaps it would be better to invest in a backpack.

"Welcome. It is a pleasure to meet you...Hotstreak?" she repeated, cocking her head to the side a bit. A few of the people at the school chose to go by code names instead. Lorna usually managed to get their real name out of them somehow, but it was better to not overwhelm the boy on his first day.

"That has something to do with your gifts, right? What are you able to do?"

"Right. Check this out, Lorna," he said with a cocky little grin. Never let it be said that he wasn't comfortable with his mutation. Hotstreak wasn't one to pass up the chance to show off, and since she called it his gift, she was probably at ease with her own powers, too. As much as he enjoyed freaking the normals out with his powers and seeing them run away, there was something to be said about being in a place where powers were the norm.

A small burst of flames engulfed the useless map, incinerating it within a second. He dusted the ashes off his hand into a nearby garbage can in the hallway.

"It's kind of a shame that I don't smoke. I'd never have to bother with matches."

Excitedly, Lorna watched him. She loved mutants, in all their forms. Every display of power she was able to witness brought her so much joy. She wanted to know everything she could about her people. Her eyes practically lit up as the map burned to ashes in the boy's hands.

"That is not a shame in the least. Smoking is a horrible habit." But she did not say that with the conviction she usually would. Her excitement was much too evident. With a bright smile, she came closer to him, close enough to place her hand gently on his forearm.

"That was amazing! You're pyrokinetic and can generate your own flames. Are you resistant to fire, as well?" Her curiosity is definitely getting the better of her. Class can wait.

An attractive girl putting her hand on his arm and eagerly conversing with him was enough to make him forget about getting to math class on time. He was a new student and the map was terrible. That was his excuse and he'd stick by it. Not that he cared much about getting in trouble, but he was supposed to be working toward reforming and focusing on getting his high school diploma. Making friends with fellow students totally counted toward reforming, didn't it?

"Fire can't hurt me at all," he boasted. "I can even use it to fly...not for long yet, but I'm working on it."

He hadn't measured how long he could keep it up for yet, but he was pretty sure it was well under an hour. For now. Maybe he'd be able to handle it for longer with practice in the Danger Room.

If Lorna's teacher was angry with her for being late, she was merely making a new student feel more welcome. That was the truth, after all. It had nothing to do with her not wanting to be in that particular course.

"You can fly?" she excitedly gasped. If he was flame resistant, that opened him up to a whole world of possibilities. Oh, the things he could do once he hit his stride. Pyrokinetics were so very talented. "That means you must heat the air around you so much that it lifts you. That is incredible."

Really, it was. And Lorna desperately wanted to see it in action. "Perhaps I could help you. If...you would like me to." Her hand was still on his arm. Smiling a little nervously now, she tucked some of her fluffy hair behind her ear. "I can, uhm...fly, too."

"Huh...you really know a lot about how mutant powers work, Lorna," he remarked. "I bet you're good at science."

He managed to stop himself before he called it 'all that geek stuff', since she was attractive and nice, and apparently smart too. In spite of all that, she was still eagerly chatting with him. This was clearly a sign to give the Xavier Institute a chance. He made a mental note to himself that if he signed up for science class, that he should make sure to copy Lorna's notes. Or maybe he could ask her to tutor him. It was a good excuse to spend more time with her.

"Yeah...that'd be great. We could hang out while flying around together."

Hopefully he'd be able to stay in the air at least as long as she could.

"Oh, no. I just...I like mutants. A lot." Real smooth there, Lorna. She blushed, tugging at the ends of her green hair. Bragging was not a trait that looked very good on her, so she refrained from telling him how she had been raised around mutants. She also did love science, and she was great at it in theory, but once numbers came into play, she was lost. Math was not at all her strong suit.

Noticing that she had probably been lingering too long, Lorna took her hand off the poor boy. She planted it very firmly back on her bag.

"I would, uhm...like that, too. Flying together and doing the hanging out." The moment that left her mouth, she cringed. "I...said that wrong." With that, she blushed deeper. She remembered when first impressions were easy, mostly because they didn't involve very muscular teenage boys.

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Kurloz wasn't a hot girl but he certainly did look somewhat girly. What with his mess of long semi-curly hair, slender build and a penchant for tight clothing, oh and lets not forget the massive amount of eyeliner the boy liked to wear. Anyway, seeing someone in distress always seemed to get his attention and make him want to help. Not to help because it was the right thing to do or because he's a good person but because helping was just another form of manipulation to him. And sure this guy didn't look like the type that he can manipulate so easily but he'll certainly try.

Of course, the biggest problem for Kurloz was that he can't speak. Not without the possibility of blowing out Hotstreak's eardrums.

With an easy stride he approached, raising one hand in a wave once he was close. The ever present smile on his face shifted to a more curious expression as he pointed to the map then motioned around him to ask if he needed help. Of course, not everyone picked up on his meanings so quickly.

It was hard to tell if the person approaching him was a boy or a girl. Given how tight the clothing was and the utter lack of breasts, he decided this person was a guy. An effeminate guy who was either a goth, emo, or who really liked the eighties, if the hair was anything to go by. Maybe it was the latter. He remembered seeing some old music videos with guys in eyeliner and tight clothes that came out during the eighties.

The fact that he wasn't speaking just added to the overall odd impression he gave. Was he mute? A shy person wouldn't have bothered approaching, and he seemed to be curious about something. Maybe he was lost, too.

"I don't know sign language," he said after a moment. "If you're as lost as I am, this stupid map's not much help, either."

Kurloz didn't consider himself emo or goth but if others did, okay. Not much he could do there. As for his hair...well, it was a bitch to tame hence the 80's size of it.

He hadn't been around the school for very long, he'd moved in during the break, but he probably knew his way around better than Hotstreak did.

Kurloz's shoulders shook in silent laughter as he dug around in his jacket, soon producing a handheld notebook and a pen.

NOT LOST AT ALL WHERE YOU GOING THERE, BROTHER

Why yes, the pen was indeed purple, in fact it was same shade of purple that he wore a lot of.

Edited (what are tenses???) 2013-01-06 21:13 (UTC)

Hotstreak didn't like being laughed at, but he watched what the very odd guy did first. His anger management therapist had encouraged him to set goals for both the short term and the long term. One of his short term goals was to not get sent to detention on his first day, and if he succeeded at that, to try to avoid it for the whole first week of school.

When he saw that Kurloz was pulling out a pen and a notebook, he relaxed a little.

"I'm trying to get to math class. Room one thirteen."

Believe it or not, Kurloz wasn't laughing at Hotstreak. He'd been in a similar situation only recently and without the ability to vocally get people's attention it had been rather frustrating.

He scribbled: CAN I in the notebook before motioning to the map.

If the map was handed over Kurloz would trace out the route for the other boy.

Well, the notebook made communication much easier. Kurloz seemed to be able to hear just fine, so it looked like sign language wouldn't be necessary. That was just as well. The only sign language Hotstreak knew were all rude gestures, including one-fingered salutes.

He passed over the map.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

All the rude ones? Kurloz could probably teach him some new ones if he wanted. Kurloz took the map and looks around at their surroundings. Once he figured out where they were on the map he traces the route with his pen. He would have used a pencil if he had one but oh well.

With a smile he handed the map back before scribbling: ANYTHING ELSE in the notebook.

"Nah, I think I'm good," he said, looking over the route Kurloz traced on the map, then down the hallway to see how that translated into physical space. He had a fairly good sense of direction, so now that he had a map for reference, he wasn't too concerned about getting lost.

"Thanks."

Kurloz smiled and gave a thumbs up before slipping his notebook and pen back into his jacket pocket. With a quick wave and a nod he turned to continue on to his own class.

Maya really liked the fact that she had at least two free periods in between everything, because that meant that she had some free time in the morning, and some free time in the afternoon. Right now, she was going around and stretching her legs while walking around with the rest of the general student population.

It was here that she noticed that there was a young man looking at a map, and getting annoyed with it.

"Need some help?" She always loved saying stuff in a sing-song sort of voice, and now was definitely one of those times to appear nice and helpful.

"Yeah, 'cause this map sucks!" Hotstreak snapped in reply, the sing-song tone of voice putting him a little more on edge. Still, she was at least offering help, so he remembered what he'd learned in anger management therapy and took a few deep breaths.

"It doesn't have the classrooms labelled on it," he grumbled, though his voice was notably calmer than it had been just ten seconds ago. "I'm trying to get to my math class."

Ooooh, touchy, touchy aren't you young man~? This is something that she thinks she'll try to look out for if she ever does have a class with him in it. Always better to look out for the little things in students in order to have them behave nicely in class.

"Is that so? Makes it really inconvenient, then. I should tell the Principal to look into this, and be more user-friendly for all you students."

She places a hand on his shoulder, and then with her free hand, uses it to point out the exact place where she knew the math class at this hour would be held.

"It should right here. Judging by where we are, you aren't really far off the mark." She traces the spot between where the class is at, and where they're currently standing.

Reading his file would probably be a good idea. He had a pretty long record of being in and out of juvenile hall. The file also contained recommendations from the anger management therapist who'd managed to make at least a little progress with him.

He relaxed a little more as she acknowledged the inconvenience. Some teachers might have told him to watch his tone with teachers. Teachers who were strict about the little things were basically guaranteed to be at odds with him. She seemed to be genuinely interested in helping, though, so he started calming down as quickly as he'd gotten irritated in the first place.

"...thanks," he said after a few seconds. It wasn't a word that came easy to him, nor did asking for help, but she had been helpful.

She might get to that later on, but for the meantime she just wanted to have him on her side. Better to have a guy like him be nice and calm than go the other end of the anger spectrum. As it stood, she could feel him relax his muscles through her fingers. She liked the feel of that, because it meant she was off to a good start.

Lingering a bit too much would probably be frowned upon, so she let go of him, yet still gave him a smile.

"You're quite welcome. Ah, and if you happen to have Biology in your class schedule, my class happens to be riiiiight here," and with that, pointed to one of the classrooms on the other side of the courtyard.

"That way, you can come and make a beeline straight to my class, okay~?"

"Yeah, will do," he said. He did still need two more science credits for his diploma and biology was less aggravating than physics or astronomy, which he had no intention of touching even with a ten foot pole. Chemistry interested him largely because of learning about the composition of drugs, and to learn how to make chemicals that would blow things up.

"...thanks."

Gratitude didn't come easily to him, but her offering the directions meant that he didn't need to bother with asking for them. Taking help that was offered was less damaging to his pride than having to ask for it.

Hotstreak | Static Shock

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