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Men of Taste, if not Wealth; Toxin, Open(?)
Topic Started: Mar 20 2011, 04:52 AM (255 Views)
Pathos
Unregistered

Time: 8:30 PM
Date: March 4, 2011


Another dull, lonely evening seemed to be in the shrink called Steven's future. Since his arrival in Sanctuary, he had found his life to be rather quiet compared to his time outside. If it weren't for the fact that his assets had likely been frozen and his personal holdings seized, not to mention certain legal difficulties, some time spent on the outside would be rather welcome.

As it was, Steven had found a comfortable park bench to rest on after a nice post-supper walk. In his hands, a worn set of old playing cards went through the motions of a few old bits of prestidigitation from his childhood. At his side, one of his trusty canes sat, adding a slight touch of dignity to the scene. And yet, his expression was one of boredom tinged with the slightest taste of restlessness.

He sighed to himself as he boxed up the cards and sat them near his cane. Other than the odd mission, Steven felt as though his life were. . . empty. After all, other than in a professional sense, he knew virtually no one. No friends. Little means of contacting family. No real social support to speak of thus far. And in truth, he had no one to blame but himself.

He shook his head, picking up the card box again, looking at it as though it would hold a solution to his lack of social contact. Perhaps a night out to celebrate his recent completion of his practice's setup would help. . .
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Toxin
Unregistered

Life had altered.

This time last year, where had he been? A scant few months of experience with his powers, living in Mutant Town alone but more than enough experience with humans' reactions to physical mutations. He'd had no friends, no family... no surviving family. He'd had absolutely no idea what the next day might bring, no idea whether he'd be tracked down from what happened the day his mutation manifested. Just trying to keep quiet, keep his toxins contained, keep to himself.

Not that he was excessively social now, but he had the Brotherhood. Not many that he would call friends, as such, but more than he'd had before. Even before his mutation, he'd never had many friends. Let alone someone that he'd die for. Or kill for, for that matter.

Dustin had long since moved past the idea that he might not be needed. His actions in the missions he'd been assigned, his improvements in his skill with blades much more notable than those with the feral side of his abilities, the fact that he'd been asked to assist in teaching some of the new recruits, it all added up to one thing. He had a place here. And that was not something he'd had since he'd finished college and his old friends met their fate in the Apocalypse.

Musing over his place in the world, there was still a fact that held true from the time he lived in Mutant Town. He hated it when the apartment was empty. He couldn't stay when the others were not there. Instead he walked through Sanctuary. The reptilian mutant was still amazed by the technology that went into the construction. One couldn't help but respect those behind it all.

His aimless wandering stopped for a moment. There was a scent he recognized in the air, and within a few moments he discovered the source. The man was messing with some cards. Another 'brother'. What were the odds? Likely higher than he'd suspect, expansive though Sanctuary was... it was just one city. Dustin greeted him once he came close enough along the path that conversation wasn't strained, "Evening... was it Pathos?"
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Pathos
Unregistered

"Hmm?" said Steven, looking up from his box. In his distraction, he hadn't noticed the approach of one of his comrades, one he remembered from a mission south of the border. "Indeed it is," he replied in a welcoming tone. "And I trust you're well. . . Toxin, correct?"

This was indeed a welcome surprise to our therapist; someone actually bothering to converse without paying the hourly and inevitably running through the list of their latest grievances. Sure, he understood that at this point it was merely a greeting, but even the possibility of conversation considerably improved his mood. "I was just out for an evening stroll," he continued conversationally. "A hobby of yours as well perhaps?"

As he spoke, Steven took the time to analyze the person before him. A number of cues led him to believe that, for the moment at least, Toxin too was a bit on the lonely side. None too surprising, then, that he'd decided to strike up a conversation with the first familiar face he came across. Having some idea, however limited, of his temporary companion's motives, Steven shifted to take initiative.

Setting his cards down and smiling lightly, he gestured to the open side of the bench. "Care to join me?" he inquired. "It's been rather . . . quiet as of late. Of course, being rather new here, I wouldn't know where any place more interesting was to begin with, but that's neither here nor there. A little company often does one good in my experience."
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Toxin
Unregistered

The feral mutant merely nodded to the inquiry about his well-being. He was doing well enough, there was no interest in going into that. Even if he was not doing well, there were not many he'd mention that to. Roger, likely, and if he needed medical attention, well that would obviously mean someone else needed to know. To the man on the bench, he filled in, expression mildly friendly, "Yes. Or Dustin, if you prefer. Dustin Reed."

Of course he didn't go out of his way to socialize with his fellow Brotherhood members outside of missions and training. It wasn't that he would have problems doing so, merely that... some of them weren't very sociable. He didn't wish to bother them. Of course now that he wasn't quite so new anymore, he wasn't so uncertain when it came to the others. Not at all when it came to the newer ones, they were at the very most at even footing with him. There was less interest in proving himself to them, and he was not a competitive young man. Merely private.

"Not really, I wouldn't call it a hobby. I was just restless," he said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. If he had any hobbies now, they served more practical purposes. Training had precedence. He may have been Manslaughter's star pupil, but it was a skill he suspected needed consistent practice.

Might as well. Dustin shrugged again and took the free space on the bench, legs stretched out and leaning back. It would do him good to get to know a few more of their Brotherhood. Usually it was the same handful of faces, and while he preferred a few close companions rather than a large number of friends... it wasn't so nice when they weren't accessible.

"Company is nice," he agreed, watching a trio of teenaged mutants walking by. They were quite a colorful bunch, talking and gesturing animatedly. He'd never been like that, even at that age. Back then there'd been even less people to talk with in his life. Oh he did not miss North Salem. "What were you doing there?" he added, meaning whatever it was he had been doing with the cards.
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Pathos
Unregistered

The analytical gentleman continued to assess Toxin... Dustin as he was joined by him on the bench. It seemed that most of his initial assessment had held correct. Sure, the slightly more abnormal mutant was decidedly more taciturn than he had expected, but this likely indicated someone that had little experience with people. Understandable, under the circumstances.

"Can't blame you for that," he responded to the comment about restlessness. After all, Steven could relate. "And as we're not on the clock, I also go by Steven. A bit less apt a moniker, but my parents felt it fit for one reason or another."

At that, he looked back to his cards. He sighed as he remembered one of his few regrets about this choice, this life: for all their disagreements during his college years, he still cared for his family and missed them. And given his current circumstances, any attempt at contact would just jeopardize them. His grip tightened ever so slightly on the box.

Blinking, he cleared his thoughts as he caught Dustin's question. "Oh, these?" he asked rhetorically. "Just keeping my fingers loose. I've been doing little tricks, sleight of hand and the like, since I was a kid. Always found magic fascinating."

"And," he added glancing up with a slight smile, "I always did like performing for an audience. Never really went anywhere, but it's still a hobby of mine."

He drew the deck from the box with a fluid, practiced motion and started working a series of one-handed cuts. "Any old hobbies you still engage in?" he asked.
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