Welcome to Gaia! ::

Owle rolled her eyes in Flare's general direction.

"Believe me, you haven't," she said to Paul, straight faced. Flare's cooking could make the dead roll over in their graves and scream for mercy if you fed it to them.

Still holding onto Flare's wrists to keep her from ruining some perfectly good food, she gave Paul a weak smile. "Yeah...it's in the cabinet up there," Owle answered, tilting her head to indicate the right one. "We've got all kinds, Nikiki and Watts keep this place well stocked." She turned back to the bacon, and to the pancakes...then placed her eyes on Paul again.

"Hey...thanks for helping out in that ugliness last night. You were trying to stop the fighting, weren't you?"

"Fine," Flare yanked her wrists away, her expression returning to one more normal for her as Paul entered. Pouting only inwardly, she watched the bacon as if waiting for it to do some trick.

"Best way to stop a fight is to kill everyone who's fighting. Disabling works as well," Flare recommended. "Other than that...you've got a few drunks involved in a brawl, you think they'll listen to reason? There's no way to stop a fight like that without becoming involved yourself."

"Thank you... and if I ever meet this mother of yours, Raven, I will be sure to tell her how proud she should be of you."

Nameless spoke to the little boy, after being transported in the strangest way possible. Even before he had been placed in this state of fugue, he'd never been teleported before. Nameless would be experiencing a lot of new things. For one, the meta-human body was now adapted to firearms and explosives. Burns would hardly be noticed, supersonic sounds could be heard and filtered with ambient noise. He could move at impossible speeds.

Nameless was highly adapted for physical abilities, which quite litteraly defied physics. Once covered in anti-magic, Nameless' physical nature was now quite magical. His hair, instead of the jet black it once was, had turned a charred color. His skin was a dark tan, and there were various scars and marks wherever his body was visable.

Yet, Nameless seemed hansome admists the permanent cuts where shrapnell or rounds had entered and would not heal. For him, they'd be a permanent reminder of his first two memories.

"To find.. Owle..."

Nameless' black boots crunched along the sand, and his steel blue eyes looked along the seashore. The kid had dressed Nameless in an outfit that wasn't far off from his original...

"OWLE!!"

Nameless would call as though one looking for someone who is lost, and onwards he would go. He walked, with the only thoughts on his mind being his failure and his friend.

"No problem," Owle answered.

She stopped what she was doing, then, as a big old shout came echoing from outside. The voice sounded familiar...

...well, she couldn't leave the food, and she didn't really feel like shouting back. Hopefully Jack wouldn't mind a little telepathic contact.

"Hey! I'm in the kitchen, come on in. It's a miracle you survived, how are you feeling?"

The voice would sound directly in his head, and Owle would happily continue preparing breakfast. She was going to have to make extra batter now for sure.

In his search for coffee filters, Paul stiffens at the sound of a voice...a voice he remembers screaming a threat to set off a grenade, a voice he thought had extinguished itself.

Paul: I watched him die...he was a bloody hole in the wall.

Dismissing the problem until he needed to face it, Paul resumes his search, picking through drawers and cabinets for the filter papers he needed for coffee.

"Uhmm... okay."

Nameless walked to the door behind the bar, and stepped through. Divets in his cheek marked scars from shrapnel that would never leave, and his charcoal black hair spoke of a certain scorching. All his skin was an extreme dark tan, as though he could walk on a Carribean beach midsummer without a need for sunblock.

Yeah, that dark.

Nameless' eyes were still a steel blue, but they lacked the sort of hardness they once had. Thier seemed something more boyish about his nature, as though life were new and everything around was interesting. However, if one looked deep enough, there was sadness.

"So yeah..."

Nameless walked into the kitchen, looking at Owle rather akwardly and then around at whoever else was there. The meta-human felt rather strange, and didn't know what else to do. This being the only place he remembered and Owle the only person, except for a lot of pain from when he woke up and some people not liking him.

Understandably so.

"I'm here."

"Flare!" Owle shouted in annoyance. "I asked you to take care of that..."

She flipped the last of the pancakes off the griddle before they burned, then turned to face Jack. She wasn't sure if it was appropriate to give him a friendly hug yet...she'd only known him for a day and it might weird him out or give him the wrong ideas.

So instead she just took a step towards him. "I'm so glad you survived...all your stuff is still up in your room, it hasn't been that long. If you want to wait a little bit I'll have breakfast ready in a jiffy."

Paul grunts in response, finally fishing out some filter paper and pouring the powdered beans into it.

Paul: "It usually works, though...subjecting someone to an intense stimulus and removing it normally shocks a subject into confusion...guess I'm not dealing with normal, am I?"

With a flick of his wrist, he flips the lid of a percolator open, fills it with water, drops the powder-laden filter paper in and sets it on a clear burner to warm up and brew.

Paul: "Guess I'd better stick with brute force then. Seems to be all that'll work on this backwards planet."

There is resentment in his voice as he dusts coffee powder off his hands and leans on the counter to wait for the water to boil.