(2020-11-15) Cleaning Tables & Toasted Marshmallows
Cleaning Tables & Toasted Marshmallows
Summary: Quentin and Kentucky clean in the cafeteria, then toast marshmallows in the courtyard with Sydney.
Date: IC Date (2020-11-15)
Related: None
NPCs: None
Scene Runner: None

Cafeteria Coral Springs
Sun Nov 15 11:32:46, 2020 — Sun Nov 15 08:32:46 2020

The cafteria is a large airy room with one wall that is all windows so the view of the cliff and the open ocean is all one can see..well and whoever is on the patio.

Round tables with chairs are spread out and there seems to be more than enough. In the back is the area where the students line up to be served food by either staff or students serving detentions. Behind this is the entrance to the kitchen, which is off limits to students not on kitchen duty. There is also the plate and tray return window into the kitchen.

It is a fall day. The weather is cold and snowy.

Kentucky - 5'10", slightly curly long black hair, black eyes, half-Native
Quentin - 5'8", curly bright red hair, amber-hazel eyes, fair complexion.
Sydney - Steel Girl. Short. Blued steel hair. Green reflective eyes.
Exits: [AB] Academic Building [PA] Patio
[SC] Supply Closet

It's the middle of the morning, and Kentucky is supposed to be tending to wiping down the tables since it's between meantimes. Outside, it's cold, and there's snow falling in large white flakes. It adds to the accumulation that's already on the ground there. There's a bucket held in his left hand, the sudsy water having turned cold already, and there's a cleaning cloth held in his right hand. Kentucky is decidedly distracted by the falling snow outside. And perhaps in part by some of the people that are outside, as well. Natural cold and snow are different, in a way, from artificial — and Kentucky hadn't experienced either natural phenomenon until coming here. And his experience with the artificial variety was limited. He has, at least, put his hair into a braid, though some locks of it have escaped. He stands quite near to one of the windows at the end of the wall of them.

Quentin, on the other hand, has experienced natural cold and snow, as well as artificial through refridgeration. Well. Mostly rain. It doesn't snow very often in Aberystwyth, due to the ocean effect. Instead, it rains. On average, though, the temperatures don't even vary that much, so in reality? Quentin hasn't really seen all that much cold. Oh, there have been years where it got down to minus ten or lower, or in summer up into the thirties, but mostly? On average, it ranges from six or seven and up to around thirteen or fourteen, in celcius terms. So this cold and snowy weather is as new for him as it is for Kentucky. Quentin had likely seen snow more times in the last two weeks in this place than he had all of growing up. He's presently sweeping. He pauses next to Kentucky long enough to poke him in the shoulder. "Hey. Faster we finish this, faster we can go out there so you can play in the snow." Quentin doesn't like it. At all. He'd rather stay indoors where it's warm, but at least the lower light levels from it being overcast are easier on his eyes!

The half Native youth actually gives a mild start when he's poked in the shoulder. He blinks a pair of times, ducks his chin a bit and blushes a touch as he looks to Quentin. And a small smile touches at the corners of his lips, and he gives a small shake of his head. "I… don't really want to play in it," Kentucky says softly, perhaps a bit sheepishly. He does lift the bucket in his hand, though, and he settles it on the seat of a chair for the table that's nearby. Then he lets go of the handle, his brow furrowing a little in concentration in order to bring up the temperature of the water. Reheating it so he doesn't have to go to the kitchen to get more hot water. He dips the cleaning cloth into the water to swish it around a bit before wringing it out some. "The colder temperatures have… effects," he says quietly. "I should get used to them, if this weather happens often here," he adds. He steps over to the table then in order to wipe it off, having to pay a bit more effort to a spill of coffee that had happened.

Quentin listens thoughtfully as he continues sweeping near the other youth. Presently, since it's between meals, they're quite alone in here. "Well, that makes two of us. I don't really want to play in it either. It's… cold. And I don't like it much when it's that cold. Where I'm from… It rarely gets cold enough to snow." He tilts his head and finishes sweeping up this section. He goes for the dust pan, on its long handle, and sets it up to sweep the pile into. "What kind of effects? Because you're right. It might not be a bad idea to get used to the effects. For me… doesn't seem to have any effect other than wishin' I was inside and not freezin' my bits off." He pauses, and considers. "It's not actually so bad, when I'm an osprey. I think…" He sweeps the pile into the dust pan. "I think this weather might be pretty normal here. I was doin' some research into the weather here. It doesn't get quite as cold as where I'm from, but it gets cold enough for this snowy stuff fairly regular."

There's a quirk of a eyebrow that happens, and Kentucky gives a small nod to Quentin. "Mmhmm, it is cold," he agrees, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He's quiet for a moment, slipping the cloth into the bucket before heading for the next table, which is still near to Quentin for their conversation to continue. "They would make it cold. They had a way to make snow, if they wanted, in one of the rooms," he says quietly. And then they'd put him in the room, with the cold and the manmade snow, to test him in different ways. He's quiet then for a moment, his tongue flicking out to damp his lips briefly before he chews a little at his lower lip. "The cold does not work well with me. Things are harder to do. Harder to make. It takes more from me to make them work and what I make is… smaller. When it is too cold, then I cannot manifest them at all," he says quietly, looking over to Quentin for a moment before he retrieves the cloth to wipe off this table.

Quentin moves to the next section, and the last one for his sweeping, and sweeps as he listens to what his friend, his brother, has to say. "Ah. Cold is your.. uh. Kryptonite? Is that even the right word?" Quentin isn't overly familiar with the superman mythos. "For me, it's bright light. Bright natural light tends to be okay, but even that can blind me if it's bright enough, but artificial lighting really gets me badly." This section seems to be not as bad as the other sections, but Quentin still takes the time to do a thorough job of the sweeping, getting all the nooks and crannies, and under the tables.

After finishing with his current table, Kentucky pauses to take a look over the others in the area, perhaps doing mental tabs as to which he's done and which haven't been done. "Umm… I don't know…?" he offers in reply, his dark gaze turning to Quentin with a puzzled sort of look. He is even more clueless about the Superman mythos than his brother. "The cold is… very counter to the heat of the fire. Though I can make fires that are not hot, and I can make them be extremely so," he says softly, his brow furrowing a little bit. "I… wondered. About the light. I noticed the change of glasses, when you went inside, at home," he says, giving a small nod. "I have heard that the snow can reflect sunlight to the point where it can cause what they call snow blindness," he says, much in the tone that he might offer a warning. Something he thinks that Quentin should be careful of, no doubt.

"How many more tables you have left?" Quentin's question might seem out of the blue, but as he's almost done…. Chances are, if Kentucky isn't, Quentin will help his brother too. He has the grace to blush with the puzzled reply and look. "It's a thing from the Superman universe, I think. Or is it Batman? Aquaman? Iron Man?" He shakes his head. "No, not Iron Man. That's Tony Stark. I dunno. One of those comic book guys." He does nod understanding about cold being counter to fire. "That makes sense. Since once can't exist in the same place as the other without outside intervention. A refridgerator, in a hot climate. A fireplace and fuel in a cold one." He finishes his sweeping and gets the last of it into the dust pan and thrown away as he listens to Kentucky continue. "At home, Da and I suffer from the same thing. It's called 'achromatopsia'. It's why I can't see colors and have issues with strong light. Also why I can't see without glasses or contacts. When I have my contacts in, they're colored and prescription strength, so I don't need my glasses to see. But I still need my sunglasses to see when it's bright. Even in here, it's too bright without my sunglasses because of the artificial light." He goes almost nowhere inside the buildings on campus without his sunglasses on. Except in their room, but he'd brought light bulbs from home that are lower level light to replace the bulbs in their room with so he can tollerate the light there. He tilts his head about the sunlight on snow. "Huh. Mental note. Don't go outside if it's sunny and there's snow. Thanks for letting me know. I had no idea."

"I have to do that one, and that one," Kentucky says, lifting a hand to point to a larger circular table near the centre of the room and then another larger one not far from the first one. It might make a person wonder what rhyme or reason he'd applied to his particular task. "Umm… I will take your word for it…? I don't know any of them," he admits, ducking his chin a little bit. Lifting his left hand, he brushes a bit of hair from his face, then idly flicks his braid to his back. "The heat must work harder to counter the cold, and the cold harder to counter the heat. It is… taxing. I did not like the snow room," he says quietly, wrinkling his nose a little bit. Which is understandable, given what it does to his powers. He quietly repeats the word, 'achromatopsia', but it seems more in the manner of one trying to remember that word and sound it out since it's so unfamiliar to him. He tilts his head a touch to one side, listening carefully, and then he gives a small nod. "It is a good thing that we were roomed together. You may have ended up with someone unwilling to change the light bulbs. Or someone who glows. That might be awkward. Glowing," he muses, taking a moment to consider that. "If you go outside when it is sunny and there's snow, then wear strong — umm… stronger — sunglasses. The ones that go all around and that have the bit at the top to stop the sunlight from shining down and into your eyes, too. I… know weird things, sometimes. I don't know why," he says softly, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Quentin puts his broom and dustpan away, thankful that it's someone else's job to come through and mop later. He'd had to do a bit of spot mopping, and it's not his favorite thing ever. He returns and claims a cloth from the bucket, heedless of how warm it might be. "It's okay," he says. "I'll introduce you to the ones I know later. I don't have any comic books, but there are quite a few different movies out now." He rings out the cloth and moves to the larger of the two tables. "There are also two universes. DC and Marvel. I like Marvel overall better, but I actually really like Aquaman and Wonder Woman in the DC universe, too. So far, there aren't any of the Marvel movies that I dislike." He pauses as he starts to clean the table. "Iron Man, Thor, the Hulk, Doctor Strange, they're all Marvel. Avengers is Marvel." He pauses and glancse back to Kentucky and nods. "I can't blame you. I don't think I would have cared much for the snow room either. Those people have a lot to answer for." He huffs out a breath. He nods his agreement. "I'm glad we wound up roomed together too. I don't think glowing would have been so bad, if it wasn't /bright/ glowing, so much as the regular lights would have sucked if they'd been unwilling to let me change the bulbs. Thank you for that, by the way." He shakes his head. "I can't. I don't have anything stronger. It's either going to be using my blind cane, which I absolutely hate to do, if I have to go outside, or staying inside, or getting someone to lead me where I need to go if I have to go outside and don't want to use my cane. Being blind really sucks." He takes a breath. "In Wales, I didn't ever need anything that strong. It's overcast.. like.. a lot." He finishes with the table and brings the cloth back to the bucket. He'd done the larger, circular table near the center. So all that's left is the one.

Spot mopping isn't really a thing that Kentucky does. It was explained to him, but he doesn't really get it. If there's a spot that needs mopping off the floor then the entire floor could use it. So he ends up doing the whole thing. The water of the bucket is pretty warm, but not scalding or anything. Though that doesn't stop Kentucky from eyeing it briefly when Quentin goes to reach in, momentarily concerned it might be too hot. "Maybe if we don't have assignments next weekend, we can take the time to watch some of them?" he suggests, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He lifts his left hand, idly pushing a bit of his hair from his face. "They would make the snow room different amounts of cold depending on how they wanted to test me. It was my least favourite. I'm just… grateful to not be there anymore. To be here instead. To be with your family that's become my family too," he says softly, giving a small nod. He steps over to the table Quentin isn't working on, and he starts to wash it off. He's always on the meticulous side of things when he's cleaning. He tilts his head a little to one side, considering. "Umm… what about welders glass? I mean… welders have a special faceshield, that has special glass in it, to protect their eyes. Would… that be a thing, maybe?" he suggests, considering the idea for a long moment. It doens't know if it would help or work, but… he offers it all the same. And how does he know about that? He finishes up with the table, giving the edge of it a last wipe, and then he heads for the bucket to deposit the cloth back into it. "I can only imagine what it must be like… I'd lead you. Whenever you need or want me to," he offers, trying to help.

Spot mopping is simply for spills and obvious messes. The whole thing is going to be done again irregardless at the end of the day. Spot mopping is just for those little spots that are sticky and need immediate attention. The water doesn't seem to be too hot, so that's a bonus! "Or we can do our assignments, then watch some of them," says Quentin. "Like we did last weekend with the first several Harry Potter movies." He grimaces at the words on the snow room. "Not cool." Pause. "Well. Literally cool, but not okay." He takes a breath. "I'm glad you're not there anymore too. And I'm glad you found us. Or that we found you. Or.. both!" He tilts his head and shrugs. "I dunno. Haven't ever tried it. My contacts are prescription for my vision as well as the red to stop the worst of the glare effects from bright light. So… I wouldn't be against trying welders glass?" Quentin leans against one of the tables, expression thoughtful. "Especially if there's a chance it'll help." Quentin has no idea how Kentucky knows about welders glass, but he might wind up being grateful for that knowledge later. "But how do you know about welders glass? Was that something the arse's in the lab wore to be able to torture you easier?" He nods his agreement about Kentucky leading him when it's needed. "I would be grateful."

That addition to his suggestion brings a smile to tug around at the corners of his lips, and then he gives a nod towards Quentin. "Mmmhmm, like that. I liked that," he says softly, his smile easily returning. Then one of his eyebrows quirks up, and he gives a quiet bit of a laugh at Quentin's comment on the snow room. "I like to think it taught me things, all the same," he says softly, a thoughtful tone to his voice. "You found me. I don't know where I would have ended up, otherwise," he says softly, a warm smile coming to his features. He's grateful for that, of that there is no doubt. He's quiet a moment, thinking. "I don't know what help the welders glasses would be, but… I know there are ones with alterable wavelengths and things like that. Fancy ones. Umm… well. No, not really," he says, ducking his chin a touch. "I kind of might have damaged the vision of one of the lab workers, once. They wanted me to try to make the fire hotter, and… well… to my mind, then, hotter meant brighter. It ended up very white. I had my eyes closed because I was concentrating so much. It's easier now, to make it hotter. And not make it white," he says softly, giving a small nod as a smile tugs around the corners of his lips. That incident amuses him, it seems. "They started wearing them, after that. And they gave me a pair," he adds.

Quentin nods his agreement. "Of course it did. Doesn't mean I have to like it anymore than I do, or what it, or those arses, did to you." Quentin shrugs. He really doesn't have to like the snow room or the lab to know that both led them to this moment. He shrugs again. "You would have wound up where you were meant to be. I have faith in that." He nods at the explanation of welders glass and the reasons he knows about it. "Well. It'll be something we can look into at some point. Maybe mention it to Mum 'n Da and they can look into getting me some sunglasses or goggles made from the stuff." He straightens from his lean and nods toward the room. "Are we done, then? Do you still want to see about adapting to the snow outside? Or would you rather do something else?"

"I know. I don't expect you to like it, Quen," Kentucky says softly, a gentle note to his voice. Then he tilts his head a touch to one side, studying the redhead for a moment. "I think you have more faith than I do," he comments, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reaches to pick up the bucket with the cloths in it, takes a moment to look about at the cafeteria, and then he gives a nod. "Mmmhmm, I think we're done. At least, we've done what we were told to do," he says, quirking a bit of a smile. "I'll have to mention it to them. It's worth a shot to see if they can get them, to see if they'll work for you," he says softly. There's a bit of a grin that finds the corners of his lips, and he gives a soft chuckle and lifts one of his shoulders in a bit of a shrug. "I'd rather do something else than freeze my arse off in the snow. But… I think it's beneficial to freeze my arse off in the snow at least for a little while," he comments, wrinkling his nose briefly.

"Well good. Just so you are aware." Quentin lifts a shoulder. "Look at my parents. Of course I have faith. It's how they raised me." He grins at the taller boy. He chuckles at the thought of freezing arse off in the snow. "At least, if we're going to freeze our arses off in the snow, there's a reason for doing so," he says. "Hopefully a beneficial one. Or three." He straightens up and starts toward where they'd left their coats hung up. They have to come across the courtyard in the open weather to get here, afterall. He unhangs his and shrugs into it, then zips it up. "I'm ready whenever you are, Ky."

The bucket and cloths gets dealt with easily enough, and Kentucky takes a few minutes to wash and dry his hands afterwards. Then he steps over to where their coats are hanging, lifting his hand to claim his. He shrugs into it, zips it up, then pulls gloves out of one of the pockets and pulls them onto his hands. "Mmm… your parents have more faith than I do, too," Kentucky comments, quirking a smile as he looks to Quen. "And if the welders glasses will help you, then maybe they'll help Da, too." Then the smile quirks to a bit of a grin, and he gives a nod. "Might as well accomplish something. Or at least have a reason for being out there," he agrees. "Besides. If we get too cold, at least once we're inside then I can warm us back up again," he adds. Then he eyes the snow for a lingering moment as though mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of the cold, giving a slight shiver. "Never ready, but… ready," he says, giving Quen a sidelong glance. All he can do is try.

Quentin pulls his gloves out and tucks them onto his fingers, then lifts his hood. He is, as is normal when inside, in his sunglasses. Simply because of the artificial lights, so he's already ready to go, there. "You'll learn faith too, Ky." It's a thing. Faith in oneself and one's friends and chosen family, at the very least. "Maybe. Here's hoping. His light sensativity is as bad as mine is." He considers his internal map and what he's learned of the school grounds so far. "The safest place might be the beach. I don't really want to slog that far through the snow, though. So.. what aboutthe courtyard? It's fairly wide open and I don't think it has much that can burn in it. We can check it out, at least." He grins. "You have a point about warming us up." He turns and leads the way to the patio door. This leads both to the courtyard and the beach, only in opposite directions. And, of course, the beach is across the back field and the woods too. No wonder he'd said to try the courtyard first!

Kentucky raises an eyebrow slightly as he looks to Quentin, a little unsure and uncertain about that, but he does give a small nod. "I'll try my best," he says softly, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He hasn't had anything to have faith in, before. Not even in himself. But he is improving, the longer he's away from the lab. He talks a bit more. "The beach is a bit far. I don't really want to go through that much snow, either. But the courtyard should work. I don't need to be making fireballs or anything that big. I can just aim to try to affect the temperature. The cold impacts both things," he says softly, ducking his chin a little bit. "The goal is maybe little fires. Not burning. I don't want to get in trouble," he adds, giving a bit of a sheepish smile. Then it becomes a grin as he nods. "Warming up is easier, once we're inside. And maybe with some hot chocolate," he suggests, his dark eyes showing a hint of a sparkle to them. He likes chocolate. He follows, then, towards the patio door in order to head out into the snowy world of the outdoors. Which pretty much instantly causes him to give an initial shiver, his breath fogging.

There are things to believe in now, at least. Quentin and his family not being the least of those things. "Agreed. Little fires and temperature, not burning. I don't want us to get into trouble either." Because you know Quentin will be at least trying to take some of the blame if there is trouble! "Hot chocolate is good. I like hot chocolate." Pause. "So long as it's not got coffee in it too," he says with a laugh. Not all that keen on caffiene, is Quentin! He looks over the patio with its teak wood tables and chairs, and benches, and burgandy velvet cushions. He shakes his head. "Yeah, let's try the courtyard. This place looks a little too delicate, if anything gets out of hand. If nothing else, we can always continue on down toward the ocean from the courtyard. That's where the tide pools are." He turns and heads toward the gate leading to the courtyard.

There are, and Kentucky is maybe starting to figure that out. And maybe starting to believe it, just a little bit. Change takes time, especially when it involves changing the way one things. "Mmhmm. That's the only effects that I need or want to cause. Just little ones," he says softly, giving a small nod. Kentucky would take the blame if there was any trouble since it would rightly be his fault! "And no, no coffee in the hot chocolate. Just hot chocolate. And marshmallows," he says, raising an eyebrow just a touch and looking sidelong to Quentin. He likes marshmallows with hot chocolate. He takes a moment to look around the patio, and then he gives a nod. "Mmhmm, the courtyard will likely be better. And it's not that far, at least," he says softly. "That's where you caught the starfish," he comments, following after Quentin towards the courtyard.

Coral Springs Courtyard Coral Springs
Sun Nov 15 19:07:17, 2020 — Sun Nov 15 16:07:17 2020

The path leads up the hill and into a large cobblestoned courtyard surrounded by four buildings. In the center of the courtyard is a greenspace, landscaped with flowers that spell out Coral Springs. In the center of the greenspace is a large statue, a memorial to the lives that were lost during the attack on the previous school. In the distance the tip of a lighthouse can ben seen. Between the buildings is a view of the ocean. It seems the school has been built on the tallest cliff of the island and has a lovely view of the open ocean to the southeast.

With the view between the buildings it almost seems like you can take to the skies and FLY. Maybe if you had wings, or some other way to FLY you could.

It is a fall evening. The weather is cold and snowy.

Kentucky - 5'10", slightly curly long black hair, black eyes, half-Native
Quentin - 5'8", curly bright red hair, amber-hazel eyes, fair complexion.
Sydney - Steel Girl. Short. Blued steel hair. Green reflective eyes.
Exits: [AB] Academic Building [AC] Admin Complex
[D] Coral Springs Dock [PA] Patio

[E] Metis/Prometheus Lobby [W] Ares/Athena Lobby

It's never easy to change the way one thinks. Nor swift. "Little effects are good," agrees Quentin. Quentin would take some of the blame, because he's an accessory in that he wouldn't have stopped Kentucky! Ergo, not just his fault, but also Quentin's. "Ooh. Marshmallows in the hot chocolate are good," he agrees. In the courtyard, he pauses and nods. "This should do." It's nice and cobblestoned, and the spot Quentin has chosen to stop has nothing that can burn in it. Well. Except for himself and Kentucky, at least!

"They always tried to get me to do as much as I could. Big effects and such. I never did go full strength with the temperature. It was… beneficial," Kentucky says softly, looking over to Quentin. Lifting a hand, he pushes a bit of hair from his face, and then quirks a bit of a grin. "I like marshmallows in hot chocolate. All squishy and melty. Sometimes I heat them more, to make them extra squishy," he admits, his dark eyes showing a sparkle to them. He stops when Quentin pauses, and his tongue flicks out a bit to brush over his lips as he looks around the area before giving a small nod. "This looks good and safe, at least. Well, safe of burnable things, at least. Other than us, anyways," he comments, a bit of colour coming to his cheeks.

Quentin pauses all of a sudden, to stop in the middle of the courtyard spot they've chosen. "Shite. We should have brought marshmallows," he says. "Could have had you toast them. That would help with control, cause they have to be contained, and keep us snacking on something warm at the same time." He blinks several times, then shakes his head. "I actually have a bag in our room. Hold that thought," he says. He turns and jogs off toward the Metis/Prometheus lobby and disappears inside. The trip up to their room, grabbing the marshmallows, and returning, takes no more than five minutes and Quentin is back, jogging into the courtyard. "Here," he pants, still catching his breath as he skids to a stop next to Kentucky. "I even grabbed us the toasting stick." He holds it up in the other hand. Still catching his breath, Quentin opens the bag of marshmallows, and digs one out. He tucks the bag under his arm and skewers the marshmallow on the stick. It's one of those metal ones. Then he holds it out for Kentucky to do his thing. "I like 'em just black on the outside. Good balance of the sweet of the marshmallow and the bitter of the char."

The half-Native youth tilts his head a touch to one side, and then he gives a little giggle. "We can roast them back at the room, if we get some. Or next time," he says softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Then one of his eyebrows quirks up a touch and he blinks as Quentin mentions there's a bag at the room, and he gives a small nod whilst he waits. He rubs his glove covered hands together a bit whilst he waits or Quentin to return, though he's not too cold just yet. It takes a bit for the cold to sink into him. And when Quentin returns, he quirks a grin, his dark eyes bright. "It's perfect!" he exclaims, giving a small nod. "And the metal skewer is, too… I could melt it, but that would be far too hot for the marshmallow. It would assuredly not survive the heat. I'll make a sheet of fire and then close it around the marshmallow so that the marshmallow will be surrounded but not engulfed by it," he says softly, a thoughtful tone to his voice. He glances towards Quentin, briefly, then turns his gaze back to the marshmallow, half biting his lower lip as he concentrates on it. Shifting his weight a touch, he lifts his right hand just a little bit from his side, his fingers moving slightly. And a small sheet of flame in orange-red appears beneath the marshmallow, and then curls around to form a cylinder around it. This is finer work than just creating a fireball and launching it or creating the firewall that he'd used to shield them from exploding soda.

Just a bit under freezing with the sun still shining… somewhere overhead. Because it's overcast. Or Quentin would be in considerable pain and entirely unable to see from the sheer amount of light. But it's overcast, so that's less of an issue. "I would appreciate you not melting the skewer, since I'm holding it," he says with a smile. He nods about the manner in which Kentucky means to roast the marshmallow. "It's okay if it catches on fire a little bit. That's how you get the best char on the outside. So long as it's just the outside," he says with a quiet laugh. He holds the metal rod with the marshmallow on it steady. Finer work than creating a big fireball or fire wall is a good thing, though. Control is much harder to do than the reverse.

<FS3> Kentucky rolls Temp Manipulation: Failure.
A little bit below freezing isn't the worst that Kentucky has worked with. It's hard, though, because it's below freezing. There's a furrow to his brow as he holds his concentration on that cylinder of fire, almost seeming to be not blinking in these moments. He gives a small nod to Quentin's words. No melting of the skewer is evident. The end of the marshmallow that can be seen starts to turn that lovely tan shade of toastiness. And the inside of it starts to get mushy and soft and squishy. When he thinks it's done to the right squishiness on the inside, he exhales his breath and gives a slight flick of his fingers. That releases the cylinder from its form and makes the flames lick over the outside of the marshmallow to give it the black on the outside that Quentin had requested. And then the flames dissipate and vanish.

Sydney wanders out in time to see this display of powers, and claps her hands with solid /clunk/ sounds The steel girl smiles a steel grin. "Well done."

It's a good thing there's no melting of the skewer, because after a few seconds of watching the flame, Quentin can't look at it anymore, despite the sunglasses and overcast! He doesn't look back until it's done. He's holding the skewer steady, still, in one gloved hand. The other lifts up to rub his forehead for a moment. "That looks perfect, Ky," he says. He holds a bag full of more marshmallows under the arm still holding the skewer. He lowers his hand, the free one, and uses his teeth to pull his glove free, then transfers the glove to a pocket. He reahces out his hand and gingerly feels the marshmallow, and smiles. "Feels about right, too." He glances over to Sydney and waves his fingers. "Evening," he says. He pulls the marshmallow free and takes a test bite. Then noms the rest of it down. "Mm. That's perfect." He gets another marshmallow out of the bag and stuck on the metal skewer, and holds it steady for number two. The sun is still up overhead, hidden behind the bank of overcast. It's cold and snowy, though no snow falls from the sky at present. Despite the overcast sky, Quentin still wears his sunglasses. At least the wind isn't blowing, that has to help, right?

<FS3> Kentucky rolls Pyrokinesis: Failure.
There's a brief glance given towards Quentin, his brow staying furrowed as he notices the rubbing of the forehead. And he tilts his head faintly to one side as he studies the redhead. "Less bright flames next time," he says softly, a flicker of worry in his voice. There's a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips as the marshmallow is deemed to be perfect in looks, and he ducks his chin just a touch. Then he hears the clunk of steps, and the clapping, his chin ducking further as a blush of colour storms into his cheeks, and he looks in the direction of them to see Sydney there. And there's a smile to tug at the corners of his lips, and he inclines his head to her. "Thank you," he says softly, a shy note to his voice. "It is good practice for me," he adds, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips anew. With the use of his powers, the hunch to his shoulders is less than what it usually is. "How are you, this evening?" he asks, curious. His attention turns to Quentin for a moment, and then he looks to the marshmallow. There's a furrow that comes to his brow as he concentrates again, his breath fogging in the air. The cold makes it take more effort on his part, and it's a delicate sort of thing to create the thin sheet of fire that he'd used for the cylinder. He rubs his right hand briefly against his outer thigh, then lifts his hand. There's a slight gesture of his fingers, and… where previously a sheet of fire had appeared there's… nothing. And Kentucky makes a hrmph sound. "Fickle, sometimes," he says quietly.

Sydney smiles. "I'm doing alright. Wishing I could still eat marshmallows without gross side effects, I gotta say. But yeah. Practice that precision. Sometimes using your powers' at their lowest is the most useful." She pauses, makes sure Kentucky is done with the flame for the moment, then raises her fist for a fist bump.

Quentin tilts his head a little bit, and shrugs. "Flames are fine. I just need to not stare at them," he replies. He glances to Sydney again. "How do you like your marshmallows toasted? Ky's pretty good at it." He pauses and glances at Kentucky. "When he can make it work." He laughs quietly. "Maybe just try to conjure a little flame and I'll roast it the old fashioned way? By sticking the marshmallow and stick into the flame." He glances to Sydney again and studies her for a moment. "What sort of gross side effects? Too sticky? Or something else, healthwise?" He sounds at once curious and concerned.

<FS3> Kentucky rolls Pyrokinesis: Good Success.
One of his eyebrows quirks up at the mention of gross side effects, but Kentucky doesn't ask after it. "Precision is important, though sometimes brute force is effective. They have their own applications," he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Then he gives a small nod to her before lifting his right hand and making a fist with it and, remembering what she'd said before, he lightly bumps his fist to hers. "It is useful, yes," he agrees, a smile tugging again at the corners of his lips. His dark gaze turns from her back to Quentin, listening to what he says, and then he gives a small nod. "I will try for making them less bright," he says softly. "A regular flame is less precise and requires less control. Less effort. I will try it again," he adds, giving a small nod. Ahd he does try it again. He shifts his feet slightly in an adjustment of his weight, lifts his right hand, and then makes a gesture with his fingers. This time, there is a thin sheet of deeper red flame that seems to unfurl itself near the bottom side of the marshmallow. Then the edges curl around to surround the marshmallow, leaving the top and bottom open. It's good practice for him, especially in the sub-zero Celcius temperatures.

Sydney watches, slightly entranced. The last flame power she knew here graduated last spring - another friend she doesn't hear from nearly as much as she'd like to anymore. Syd's fist clanks very softly at the fistbump and she nods, and goes back to watching the show. After a moment's thought, she adds, "I can't really metabolise anything but meat and iron. Sugar just gums me up inside. I have to basically turn myself inside out and scrub the stuff off. Nothing especially bad… just messy."

Quentin is healy. Asking after health things is kind of one of his things! "Sometimes, a combination of brute force and precision might be necessary. Say, opening a door by taking out the lock only. Brute force in a limited location size." He nods about trying again, and averts his face before the flame is conjured. That way, less likely to cause him pain. Instead, he focuses on Sydney. "Ah. That makes sense. Also.. kinda gross." He considers her. "I wonder if my healing sense would work on you," he says, a slight lilt of question to the words.

The half-Native youth holds his concentration on the cylinder of flame, holding it in place around the marshmallow. Once the end of it has started to turn that perfectly golden shade, he gives a slight gesture to release some of his control on the cylinder. This causes it to change to a normal flame that sears over the outside of the marshmallow before he gives another slight gesture in order to extinguish it. His expression eases then, and the marshmallow is again as Quentin prefers. "Somehow… I'm not sure that a meat marshmallow would have quite the same flavour," Kentucky muses, a thoughtful tone to his voice. "That would be a bit messy… and probably not overly comfortable," he says softly, a gentle note to his voice. Then his attention turns to Quentin before he gives a nod. "Mmhmm. Locks are easier of they're metal. I can increase the heat to weaken them or melt them," he says softly, a thoughtful note to his voice.

Sydney says, "Also a useful skill. I've studied lock picking a little bit. It's way easier when you can get a finger inside the lock. Advantage over just shredding the lock… you can lock it again behind you." She looks at Quentin. "What does your healing sense do?""

"Hmm… no, not the same flavour," replies Quentin. "But you could do meat kebabs for people that don't like marshmallows." He has a point! He doesn't take the marshmallow, but instead holds the end of the skewer out toward Kentucky. "This one's yours," he says. He nods to Sydney. "Finesse over brute force. I like it," he says. "And my healing sense just lets me see what a person or animal's physical state is. Good or bad. Then, if it's bad, I can heal whatever it is."

"Yes. That would be very much easier, for locks. Melting doors is effective as well. Although melting the hingest might have been better," Kentucky muses, a thoughtful tone to his voice. "I can see the benefit of being able to lock it behind," he adds, giving a small nod. Then his attention turns to Quentin, listening. "Meat kebabs, yes. Or steak, or other such things. So long as I do not lose my concentation and end up burning things," he says, ducking his chin a touch. He blushes a little bit, and then he reaches out to pull the marshmallow off the skewer. "Thank you," he says softly, a touch shyly. He slurps out the soft middle of the marshmallow, causing the outer crust to deflate, and then he munches on the rest of it.

Sydney looks at Quentin. "Well, give it a whirl, see what you can see." She blushes a little at the idea of what exactly he might see, but decides that, with a sense like that, he's probably seen it all before. Or something like that. She gives Kentucky a smile. "Hey, I can at least vicariously enjoy them, right?"

Quentin laughs. "Or leaving them too raw," he says, tone amused. He reaches for the bag and then pauses. "Do you want to try another one, or would you like to take a break?" But he's distracted with Sydney's permission granted to have a look! He shifts the skewer to the arm holding the bag of marshmallows, and holds his, once again empty right hand out to Sydney. He likely has seen a lot before, but he's only sixteen. And maybe he's never seen a metal person before! He steps closer and waits for her to take his hand. "I have to touch, to see," he explains.

Kentucky quirks an eyebrow slightly as he listens to the exchange between the pair of them, and a glance is given back and forth between them. Then he gives a small nod to Sydney. "Mmhmm, you can. Though… before coming here, I'd never had marshmallows. Or a lot of other things," he says softly, his tone thoughtful. His gaze turns to Quentin, and he quirks a bit of a grin before giving a nod. "Mmmhmm, too raw is equally possible. Especially if it's like this or colder when I'm doing it. I think a little break, while you do what you do, and then maybe another for each of us," he says, a thoughtful note to his voice.

Sydney reaches out to Kentucky and, unless he moves away, will give him a quick hug, just a catch and release, as you'd do with a cat that doesn't really like being held. She reaches out to Quentin with her other hand and takes his. Her hand is surprisingly warm and soft, and if Quentin notices that sort of thing, even has a pulse at the wrist. Her body may be a simulation, but it's a good simulation. ((Oh, each nanomachine is bonded to what amounts to a stem cell. Syd is alive, too.))

"Marshmallows are great," says Quentin. "I haven't introduced him to s'mores yet. I think I'll pick us up the ingredients for s'mores this weekend and show you what those are about in more practice next week." He nods about leaving the meat too raw. Especially when cold! "I should have a look at you after I'm done with Sydney, see if the cold does something to physically affect you more than other people." He smiles at the catch and release hug, and then turns his attention to Sydney. He does a certain amount of mental bracing for the sensory input that's about to come in. And a wondrous smile comes to his face. "Wow," he murmurs. "I haven't ever seen anybody like you before. Tiny.. machines, of a sort, I think. So you work like a normal person, but… not. This is so awesome, Ky, I wish you could see this." He does notice things like circulatory systems, and pulses at the proper points. "So cool. My Mum has been teaching me basic anatomy, and Da what he can about this sort of thing, but neither of them has ever hinted at anything like this. Sydney, you're beautiful." That compliment seems to be from more of an awed point of view of the inner workings than that a liking of the physical form.

Kentucky doesn't move away at all, nor does he make any effort to prevent or avoid the incoming hug. But there is a quiet little squeak of surprise that comes from him at the hug that's there and gone so quickly. He ducks his chin a little and blushes, looking to her, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. His gaze turns to Quentin, and he nods in agreement. "Mmmhmm, marshmallows are that. And fluffy and sweet," he says, giving a small nod again. "S'mores? What's that?" he asks, curious. "I can use more practice. It's always a good thing. I think it's just the way my body works, with the cold," he says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. "You can take a look, I don't mind," he adds. Then he tilts his head a little to one side, watching the pair of them as Quentin gets a sense of Sydney. He seems curious about it, listening attentively to what Quentin shares. "Micro machines…? Wee ones that can't be seen each from the other?"

Sydney smiles. It never sucks to be called beautiful, even if he is more interested in your insides than your outsides. Syd chuckles softly, a little embarassed just the same. "Thanks." She nods to Kentucky. "Exactly. Every cell has a nanomachine, and they're all more or less the same. So… when you hold my hand, you're also holding my brain…

Sometimes, hugs are a good thing. Sometimes, contact is a good thing. One might wonder how it is for Quentin, if he can see the state of someone's health from a simple touch. Finally, he takes a breath and gently pulls back from the contact with Syndey's hand. He shakes his head as though to clear it of the leftover 'vision' of what he'd seen. "S'mores. Toasted marshmallow, chocolate, and graham cracker. Tasty." He takes a breath and lifts his hand to rub his forehead again, with his once again free hand. "Micro machines. I doubt I could see them with my eyes. Maybe with a magnifying glass, but probably would need a microscope to see them. Either way, it was really neat. Sydney is amazing, brilliant, and other such words I just haven't thought of yet," he says with a grin for the metal girl. He bounces on his toes. "Seeing it was just… neat. It's got to be the single most impressive thing I have ever seen." He takes another deep breath and lowers his hand again, offering it over to Kentucky this time. "May as well check to see if the cold is doing anything detrimental to you, yeah?"

"That sounds really incredibly neat," Kentucky says softly, giving a small nod. "Although… umm… kind of a bit weird at the same time, them being all the same," he adds, sounding a bit intrigued. Hugs and contact are both good things, even if they're still in the stages of being surprising good things. One of his eyebrows quirks up at the explanation that s'mores are, and there's a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. "This combination must be had. I like marshmallows, and I like chocolate. It sounds good," he says, a smile easily returning. He tilts his head a touch to one side, studying Quentin for a lingering moment. "Mmhmm, might as well check," he says softly. He pulls off his glove, and then he reaches out to accept the offered hand.

Sydney steps back and watches, rubbing her hand thoughtfully. "S'mores are good. You definitely have to dry them.

Quentin nods agreement with Kentucky's first assessment. "Really is incredibly neat," he says. "Different, but not weird." He smiles and nods. "S'mores are brilliant." As contact is made, there is, once again, a bit of mental bracing. And a few moments later, he gently disengages. He takes a breath and nods. "Well, the cold isn't damaging you, at least. I…" He rubs his forehead again. "I need to go lie down somewhere dark for awhile. A day full of light is killin' my head." He glances between the two of them, and offers the marshmallows and stick to Kentucky. "In case you want to keep practicing," he says. "Thank you both for humoring me. I'll see you at dinner?" He waits for a moment, and then whether the marshmallows and stick are taken or not, turns and heads for the Prometheus/Metis lobby.

"Quentin has been introducing me to different foods. Things tended to be the same… before," Kentucky says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I look forward to trying the s'mores. They sound very tasty," he adds, giving a small nod. He looks over to Quentin then, and he tilts his head a touch to one side, worry causing a furrow to show in his brow.He steps closer to Quen and offers his gloved hand. "I'll walk back with you, Quen… then you can keep your eyes closed," he says softly, giving a small nod. He's worried and more than a bit concerned, and that's prompted his protectiveness to come out. Then he looks over to Sydney. "Thank you, Sydney. We'll talk more again soon, and see you at dinner," he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Since he's not using his powers anymore, the hunched shoulders have returned, and the half hiding behind his hair as well. It seems to perhaps be a thing.

Sydney nods. She does notice the slip back to hiding when Kentucky stops using his powers. Something to work on. Because when he's not hiding he's kind of cute. As is Quentin, if she's honest with herself. She ponders that a moment. "G'night guys. See you at dinner.

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