nextgenerationmarvel | Some kind of trouble....

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Some kind of trouble....

The new internship was going really well. They were good kids; really good kids. Different conditions: two genetic disorders, two car accidents, and ... Luke ... but they were all responding well to getting their hands around a paintbrush or a pair of safety scissors.

Luke less so, not because his injuries were more severe -- in fact, they were less so than several of the others, but because he couldn't seem to relax. Then.... she could tell by the way he fumbled with the art supplies. The damage that had been healing after his previous accident ... or 'accident' ... was renewed. Kind of subtly, easy to miss if you weren't kind of studying this sort of thing obsessively.
Caroline calmly put in the call to DFYS ... but what about that night? Luke definitely wasn't talking enough to make anyone else take definite action immediately, and law-abiding citizen or not, Caroline wasn't sure she trusted the system to act quickly. Maybe she did have a little of Momma's revolutionary streak in her after all. She managed to keep him late, but eventually, the sun had long set, the center was closing... "Hey, Luke, I'm gonna walk you home, okay?" She didn't really give the kid much choice as she accompanied him. "Maybe have a talk with your Mom about how good your art's coming along."
"Mom'll be at work. And Dad... won't want to talk about art."
"Okay. Well, I'll just walk you home anyway."

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"You don't really argue with the Ghost Rider so much as you stall him before he starts speakin' again." Tommy chuckled.

"Nice to meet you, Caroline. Do you live around here? Or is this where he brought you to talk?" Tommy asked, looking around the area.

"Ghost Rider? That's what he's called? Think I've heard of it, maybe in a story about Wolverine, but I never got any details. Creepy would be an understatement," she understated.

"It's not far. Didn't want him bothering my people."

"Yeah, that was probably a good plan. You want me to take you the rest of the way before I head out?" he asked. "Don't want to leave you here by yourself."

Caroline checks the time. "They won't start panicking just yet... have you eaten?" She has to at least try a little emotional reconnaissance in the hope of helping this guy.

"I had somethin' at the bar...wait, that was tequila. No, I haven't eaten since yesterday." Tommy said, laughing a little.

His stomach rumbled in agreement and he had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Food sounds good right now. Know any good places?" he asked.

"Well, the best place is my cousin's kitchen, but... let's go with the second-best place that'd be open right about now." Because, well, horrifying, possibly-dimensional-magic-oriented psychic cuckoo of fire and sin. Not really wanting to explain that to the gang to the poor guy's face, for one thing. She'll give directions to a good diner.

Tommy nodded and got back on his bike. This time, the only place Caroline could get on was directly behind him. He passed her his helmet.

"You'll want to put that on, just in case." he said, waiting for her to get on.

Caroline knows how these things work, putting on the helmet, climbing on, and grabbing around him.

Tommy takes her to diner in question, which isn't far. They park in the parking lot and he notes the '50's style decor. He likes this place already.

"Shall we?" he asked, dismounting the bike and offering his arm to her.

A familiar old-fashioned gesture is a welcome relief on the brink of the evening catching up and overwhelming her. She'll take his arm and in fact lean on it. A nervous giggle is reflected in her instinctive wind-chime sounds.

Tommy stopped and looked around for a moment, thinking he heard wind-chimes somewhere nearby. His mother used to keep wind-chimes all over the place back home. He loved those old things.

Then he remembered what his mother did to him and pushed the thought down.

They entered the diner and found a table, with Tommy waiting for Caroline to sit down before he did.

"So, Caroline. Where are you from?"

"Kentucky. Cumberland, Kentucky. Oh, and sorry about the sounds. I'm a mutant, and it's just habit." The rather homelike traits are helping with her becoming not as rattled. "And you?"

"Kentucky Caroline. That sounds like a flower." Tommy said, using it to remember her name.

"Hey, it's totally cool that you're a mutant. I'm not one of those people, you know." he said, hoping to keep her at ease.

"I'm from Loving, Missouri. About as far south as you can go before you hit Arkansas." he said.

And there's the wind-chime giggling again.

"I've heard nice things about Missouri." Heard lousy things, too, but nothing that wasn't wrong with other places, nothing that couldn't be fixed.

"You have? Can you tell me a couple because I haven't heard any." Tommy said, laughing just a bit. Honestly, he wanted to hear the wind-chim sound of her laughter again.

"Really, though, Missouri can be nice. It can also be really crappy, like St. Louis." he said.

"How long have you lived in New Jersey?"

"The cake, for instance. Hear the cake's nice. Just a couple of months. Transferred to Rutgers for grad school, moved in with my cousin and his crew. Before that, I was at ESU in New York."

"I just came from New York and I have to go back soon. But I've been traveling across the United States with my...partner." Tommy said.

"So who's the --" and the word she uses is in a language less than a dozen people on Earth know, so Tommy can't be expected to have any idea what it is. "How did they do this to you..." And, with a mournful expression, she remembers a few of the stories for getting humans into the wildways circuit ... "Did you sign something? You never sign anything an interdimensional creature hands you, Tommy." Yes, the girl who's only just met him is almost teary-eyed. "But there's always a way out, somehow."

"I didn't sign anything. I just consented. And I think that's all I should say about it. I was going to die and I found a way out of it. Everything requires an exchange." Tommy told her.

She was starting to cry and Tommy didn't exactly know how to deal with it. He reached inside his leather vest and passed her a blue handkerchief.

"It's okay. Don't cry for me because I really don't deserve it."

"What you deserve's between you and Aunt Lucinda's God, but all I know is you helped Luke and me tonight, and you've been nothing but nice, and you can't stop my worrying about you. Besides, even if you're a complete --" and there was her mother's native tongue again. "-- no one deserves to own a sentient being and do... that." What she saw earlier. "But if you say it was consensual, I'll try to shut up about it. For Now." And she takes the handkerchief to stop the tears, and takes a heavy breath.

"Hold on. What's that word you keep usin'? I don't know the language." he said, trying to understand what Caroline is saying.

The waitress comes over to the table and sees Caroline's tears. She gives Tommy the evil eye as she asks for their orders.

"Just a burger and fries for me, please." Tommy requests.

"Oh, sorry. It's ... Momma's not from Kentucky originally; she was a refugee. Basically, it translates to 'shill for the oppressors.' " But then she smiles at the waitress and asks for a BLT and a peanut butter milkshake

"Peanut butter milkshake? Never had one of those. Is it good?" Tommy asks.

The term 'shill for the oppressors' sounded about right, though he knew his prison was one of his own making.

"You're a very nice woman, Kentucky Caroline. Thank you for...listenin' to me."

"It is. You can try some. I'm a real peanut butter addict." She smiles. "You're real welcome, Tommy."

"All right, then. I will do just that." he said, smiling at her. Her smile was infectious and Tommy liked that. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so at ease.

That said a lot about him, he figured.

"So how is living with your cousin? Do you get along?"

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