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Paul bumped into a bookshelf, upsetting the precarious balance of the books stacked on the shelf, and cursed. This would have astonished anyone who knew them; it was very rare for the mild-mannered pre-med student to curse, mostly because he rarely did anything worth cursing over. Today, though, was an anxious day; today was the day his cousin was moving in with him.

Both of them had never exactly lived alone before; Paul had, of course, lived in the dorms, but he'd had a roommate. And Grayson had said something about a boarding school, once, but had dropped it and Paul didn't have the heart to bring it up. (Still, you had to wonder...) Since both of them were so new at the rooming-together-with-people thing, it made sense to move in with a relative. And the apartment building seemed nice enough. A brunette girl just an inch or two shorter than Paul had come to introduce herself as his downstairs neighbor, carting around a glass pan with some cookies in it. It had gone well, until she'd found the need to explain that if she heard a thing too loud she was going to beat him within an inch of his life.

Or maybe that was actually a good thing?

At any rate, normally he would've been pretty alright. He was unpacked, he had his things where he wanted them, he'd claimed the room with the east-facing windows and fire escape access. It was just...

Arthur and Van Graves had been estranged from the rest of the family for a reason. It was one Paul personally didn't agree with, but his standing with his grandparents was important enough to him that he was nervous about meeting these heretofore unknown uncles, and the cousin he'd only seen in person once or twice. He was sitting down at the piano to play, maybe to relax a little, when someone knocked at the door.

"It's unlocked," he said. Suddenly he was too nervous to play.

Paul was surprised. Okay, that was mild. He was a little bit annoyed by that, and almost acted on it. "You knocked," he said, by way of explanation. "I'm sorry if it bothered you." Could he have just kicked the door? Probably. Paul ran a hand over his hair, frowning a bit as the elder of his cousins came in. "Ah, Grayson."

All three of the men resembled each other; it was in their coloring, though they had violet eyes while Paul's were more of a mahogany brown, and in the planes of their faces. He was a little befuddled by the curls--but then, he'd only seen his uncle in one or two photos, and didn't know if that was something only Arthur had had to pass on. It was a bit confusing, but no more confusing than his father's family lines. He cleared his throat and stood up from the piano bench, dusted the shoulder of his button-down free of imaginary particles.

"Do you need any help," he asked, watching them with wide eyes. He didn't want to interfere if they had a system going.

Paul's mother had never really mentioned his cousin as having a faceful of scars; that was part of the reason why Paul had wanted to move in first. Mother, he reflected, did not react well to people who had clearly endured things beyond what she had; she liked to pretend that her life was the be-all end-all of suffering. Nice enough, if you were her, but it tended to drive Paul utterly mad. He considered this as he watched his cousin run a hand over the scarred portion of his face. Car crashes... you could cannibalize them for starseeds, if you were desperate enough.

He shook his head. Not the time for that, unfortunately, especially with the new way of gathering energy.

"Well, let's get this done," he decided, cuffing up the sleeves on his shirt. "More hands helping, the faster we go, right?"

The boxes were brought up the stairs in short order; Paul didn't really have much time to speak to his younger cousin, except to foist some food on him. "He seems... standoffish," the taller man guessed. He had gone out and bought chicken wraps earlier that morning, thrown them in the fridge for later; now he was eating a cold wrap, leaning on the counter. "So, what's the plan for you?" Paul was going to DCU, which was why he was procuring his own apartment. That had already been stated.

Fire academy. Paul considered this; his cousin was acknowledged as a pretty lazy guy, had said as much before they moved in together. Fire academy would probably either straighten that out or make it worse... and it wasn't really Paul's place to say, even if he would have to be the one picking up after any messes made.

Or would he? They were both adults.

On the other hand, such a huge time commitment meant there was almost no worry whatsoever that his cousin was a senshi or a negaverser. It wasn't like class in that you could rush things through at the end and still finish with an A. It would require a lot of devoted effort, he thought, leaving no time even if Grayson was an enemy for him to do anything. Paul could continue as he always had.

"Sounds like it'll be pretty time-consuming," he said, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. "I'm going to be attending a lot more school, I'm afraid. I'm pre-medical." The smile was gone then, more dissatisfied. Why hide it? Grayson would notice when he heard Paul kvetching over his distaste for the anatomy assignments, and saw him staring at the piano longingly. "Going to specialize is brain surgery. It's... Well. Keeps me busy, yeah?"

He was quiet. Respectfully so, maybe, or awkwardly so, but Paul was a great believer in giving people space, so it was probably more towards respect. The berry granola bar he declined, holding up the remainder of his wrap. "Still eating," he said, and then: "Are you allergic to blueberries, then?"

Paul wasn't too fond of the fruit himself. Tended to be pretty flavorless or else far too tart. At least it, therefore, wouldn't be a problem. If one person didn't like it and the other was allergic, no reason to invest.

Pleased, he nodded to himself, and started to pay more attention to his wrap. He had at least six months to get to know his cousin better... there was no need to rush now.