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The scolding about not speaking so about his mother earned a thin-lipped stare, one that spoke of something more than ‘head butting’. If he intended to say more it was burned away in some smoky inner fire that held such cards close to his chest.

“I personally elected to go to Hillworth because it had Dormitories, I say elected and I mean I started enough arguments around the house that she was just as glad to be rid of me as I was to go. She even sent me to a psychiatrist… confiscated one of my notebooks, that was before I wrote in short hand. I think he really didn’t like the notes I made about him.” He sounded vaguely amused. “… Made sure they never laid hand on me again, I don’t much care for being touched, not unless I allow it.”

Fingers drummed on the table and his eyes flicked to one side sharply and then back “Dem had some, family issues. I think after his mother died the father disowned him. Denial, Meadowview would have been a far better school for him though, but again I think he was more sent because he’d reside there than any real source of trouble. Hell, look at that one officer who was reassigned. Celestine or whatever his name was… I have no idea what the hell he was doing in Hillworth. The school’s reputation for trouble makes it a convenient dumping ground I suspect.”

“He was living with Paragonite…” He said thoughtful. “Last I heard she was going to pay for half a –car- for him.” He crinkled his nose slightly at that idea. Here he was riding on a motor scooter that he’d practically had to pull out his own teeth to pay for and… well sour grapes after all. Not something he was going to hash out in front of others when he was lucky to have transportation for his civilian life at all.

“Lack of Bills would be marvelous, but I’ll have one at least regardless, at least until I can pay for a new violin.” He sighed heavily and tapped his fingers thoughtful. “I really don’t mind the reputation, to be honest I’ve made sure that I deserved it once I was there, enough to make them stop trying to crush me into a locker.” He shrugged again thoughtful. “And at least I finally put on a little more height, makes it harder for them, and I have a better reach.”

“I’ve played Violin since I could hold one properly, it was supposed to ‘better’ me and I got a taste for it. As for what happened to it well, I… accidently broke it. I’ve been worried about a few things and I’m afraid my temper got the best of me. I didn’t realize it was in the path of my brief and indulgent destruction.” He said and gave a small sad, tired laugh and rubbed his eyes before lifting the coffee.

“I can teach you how to drive, I mean, I can teach you a scooter at least, I don’t have a car to train you on but if you don’t mind learning a motor scooter. I think Obsidian has a car, I bet he could teach you but I can’t promise anything about temperament.” He gave a small laugh imagining of all things, Obsidian behind the wheel in the grips of road rage. Dangerous thought that.

“If I get any kind of lead on one for cheep, I’ll let you know.” He paused to consider. “Theirs a new Lieutenant, he’s the shop teacher at Hillworth, he might be able to turn something up. If nothing else you could consider it to be ‘for work’.” He said with a small hint of amusement. After all they could teleport, so wouldn’t it be amusing to motor around on a scooter.

“Gas might be a budget problem though.” He conceded. Hard to make a regular life for the surface when you got lost in your duties as an officer, he knew that on his own but Wolframite had been in deep for a long time. Dropping out and making his own way in the world, at once admirable and limiting in some ways. Curious how everything seemed to balance sometimes, his professional life flourished while his civilian life suffered.

“Getting a job helps.” He nodded almost distractedly over the idea. He might have more days that he was frustrated with the Candy store than ones where he was simply happy to be doing ‘something different’, but it made if nothing else a few dollars for his pocket and a good cover for the ‘night life’ they both lived. “Scooters, lots of them get good gas mileage, the only trouble is inclement weather. I’m not sure what I’ll do when the snow comes but worst case I’ll be walking to work, at least partly.” He offered a wry smile about that. Teleporting to a reasonable distance away and then walking from there was risky and probably a waste of energy but at least being the rank he was it wasn’t as problematic as it could have been.

He waited for the sugar and added some to his own, and a little cream before stirring, the soft ting of the spoon against the thick edges of the cup were just another part of the music in this place, a chorus of yawns, oldies music and the clatter of silverware on plates to the percussion of the waitresses sneakers on the well trodden linoleum.
“Maybe it’s a good thing too, keeps us grounded into where we came from, what we’re protecting from ‘Them.’ He said narrowing his eyes slightly and gazing out over the diners. “Though I’ll always wonder how many of them walk by us every day, pretending…”

Zac looked thoughtful, somewhere else where they didn’t have to recover or worry about Youma. “Like a safe house…” He said quietly, trailing off into thought. “Interesting, but I’m not sure how we’d pull it off, we’d need to make sure it went into the hands of…hmm…” He pondered. “Tanz perhaps.” He said dropping to a near whisper to keep from being overheard. Cutting her name down to four letters seemed almost like inviting the boogieman to come and devour his toes (boogie arm?). But it seemed safer than using her full name just in case anyone was pausing near by to listen.

“The car might be the bigger headache, too many people might want to use it at once, maybe if we got our new mechanic to refurbish a few older ones… maybe we could convince some of our own to convert one of those old warehouses. They sell them to companies all the time for loft stile apartments, why not something like that? Plenty of room to make small private areas, but also easy to keep an eye on the surroundings as well.”

Zac nodded mutely. He hadn’t any particular attachment to the holidays, but he had the nagging feeling he should do something. Thanksgiving, Christmas… the want to have the days mean something was there but there was a base level of irritation. Thanksgiving normally just meant his mother stressed in the kitchen, burned a pie and ordered a rotisserie turkey from the grocery that smelled bad and tasted worse. Christmas was an exercise at home of disappointing people with what you –didn’t- get them rather than what you found to try and make them happy.

“Maybe we’ll have to do something.” He said distracted, “I’m sure we could come up with something simple to make it more affordable for everyone. If you could put up with Ever for a bit, I doubt he’ll be home for the holidays either.”