Dinner

[Pyro]

Dinner was served some two hours later.

Giacomo went to fetch John from his room, where he found the boy sleeping in a chair, probably not the best position for someone in his recuperative state to be in. Heinrich had said he would call in after dinner to check the kid over.

He waited whilst John splashed water over his face and dragged a comb through his hair, which went precisely no way towards making it look presentable. His eyes, at least, were more alert than they had been earlier.

The dining room was as swanky as the rest of the house; a long, sixteen-seater table dominating the room. There were matching objets d'art everywhere. So many matching objects d'art in fact that John began to think he was seeing double. They were the first ones there.

Giacomo saw him looking and smiled slightly.

"You have your mutation," he said, in a cheerful voice, picking up a beautifully sculpted glass-blown vase and examining it thoughtfully. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a rock. That's all it was. A rock.

Until seconds later, when an identical vase appeared in its place. John stared and watched the transformation take place, the rock curling and shaping itself until it was the exact duplicate of the other.

"You have your mutation," repeated Giacomo handing the new vase to John. "And I have mine."

It was faintly warm and made his fingers tingle slightly when he held it, but the sensation passed. Giacomo smiled. "I can reproduce most things as long as I have an object of equal weight to reproduce it with."

"Is it permanent?" John was fascinated.

"Yes. Although I can change an object as many times as I wish. That vase can become anything else, as long as it is inorganic. I can, before you ask, duplicate money."

"Python knew that, right?" Explained why the man was so wealthy, at least.

"Of course. I have known Python for many years."

"And he still let me go rob a bank?" John glanced up at Giacomo in case the other man was laughing at him. He wasn't.

"I believe Python felt the time was right for you to prove what you could do, young man." Giacomo caught his arm very gently. "He has told me much of you and your plans. I would join the Brotherhood if I did not have responsibilities here. But my help...is always available."

"Thank you." John meant it. "Uh, can I give this vase to someone, as a gift?"

"Of course." A smile again. He knew exactly who that 'someone' would be. "Come now, sit yourself down."

John, looking faintly bemused by everything, sat down at the oak table.

[Jane]

When one of the seemingly endless workers in the house came to fetch her for dinner, Jane foolishly believed that she'd be allowed to just go on into the dining room. But no. Oh, no. Nothing was ever that easy.

She was not going to change for dinner.

Maybe it was a stupid point to stick on, but she'd already got a few grass stains on this dress, and she didn't want to dump anything else all over a different one. You could bleach white. She doubted white was an evening color, and even if it was, that she'd be allowed to wear the same color twice in one day. Far too sensible.

She had the impression that she might be running slightly late to dinner, but it was HARD to sneak through an enormous country villa, no matter what spy novels said. She'd had to take an enormous circuitous route to avoid Signora Wossface, who obviously had no inhibitions towards tying Jane down and forcing her to change.

Eventually, though, she found the dining room and slipped inside before any of the attending staff could apprehend her without making a scene. Smiling an apology to Giacomo and John, she took her seat quickly, aware of the fact that she was grass-stained and slightly mussed in a chair that was probably more expensive than she was.

"Hi," she said, for lack of anything else to say, looking with some bemusement at the doubled vase and then noticing that pairs (and triplicates) appeared to be sort of a theme. "What's cookin'?"

[Pyro]

"Hi. What's cookin'?"

"We have a little antipasto for starters, a platter of meats and cheeses, I think you like very much. For primo platto some delicious tomato and basil soup. Secondo platto is beautifully hand made ravioli, ah it is muchly delicious and for dolce, well we see when we get there."

Giacomo was clearly a literal sort of chap.

John's stomach reacted loudly to his words with a rumble that sounded like an oncoming train was heading their way. He clapped a hand over his stomach guiltily.

"I hear from Python," said Giacomo, to cover up John's embarrassment. "He picks up your lady friend, Secateur..."

"Sekhmet."

"Sekhmet in Florida, and another lady. They are travelling back now, si? And should be here in the morning."

There was a long pause.

John set the vase down on the table.

Giacomo watched his face with great interest as it went from neutral to angry, back to neutral, slipping briefly into what could only be dscribed as incandescent rage, reverting to neutrality and finally settling on a sort of forced smile.

"Florida. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight."

He pushed the vase across to Jane. "I - ah - thought you might like this to put some of your - um - flowers and stuff in. It's a thank you. Sort of thing."

[Jane]

"We have a little antipasto for starters, a platter of meats and cheeses, I think you like very much. For primo platto some delicious tomato and basil soup. Secondo platto is beautifully hand made ravioli, ah it is muchly delicious and for dolce, well we see when we get there."

Jane counted up the words she understood. At least now she knew what would be happening, if not in the right order, except antipasto, because she'd been to enough faux-Italian restaurants to know that that was an appetizer. "Sounds great," she said, but was drowned out by... John's stomach.

Jane giggled inelegantly.

"I hear from Python. He picks up your lady friend, Secateur..."

"Sekhmet."

"Sekhmet in Florida, and another lady. They are travelling back now, si? And should be here in the morning."

Hadn't Python been headed to New York? Maybe it was a layover.

John set a vase (?) down on the table with a soft click and then made many, many scary angry faces. Jane folded her hands in her lap and watched with a mixture of interest and intimidation.

"Florida. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight."

"Um," she said, by this point mightily confused as he pushed the vase across to her.

"I - ah - thought you might like this to put some of your - um - flowers and stuff in. It's a thank you. Sort of thing."

"Oh," Jane said, picking it up and turning it over in her hands; it looked expensive (and identical to one already on the table?), and she almost felt like saying 'no no that's okay I couldn't possibly,' her automatic reaction to anything more than ten dollars, but John looked embarrassed out of his mind. "Thank you," she said instead. "It's beautiful. And it - well, it wasn't no trouble, exactly, but you didn't have to."

[Pyro]

"It's beautiful. And it - well, it wasn't no trouble, exactly, but you didn't have to."

"No trouble? We trashed your house, destroyed your city and made you into a wanted woman. Lady, if that had been ME, I'd have expected nothing less than an apology." He managed to squeeze a smile out of the plethora of expressions that were firing across his face. The most pertinent point to pick up from the statement was that clearly some of his memories were coming back which hopefully meant that the decidedly erratic behaviour that had been caused by the assorted drugs in his system was going to settle down.

In short order, the appetizers arrived. John got stuck in like a man with a mission after, she noted, offering the platter to her first. So he had some manners in there.

Giacomo spoke to his staff in easy Italian and a couple of bottles of wine were brought out. John declined, laying a hand over his glass. "I don't do well on alcohol," he said, a little sheepishly. "Last time I had a glass of wine, I got a bit over-enthusiastic with some candle lighting."

He focused on eating as one of the staff poured him a glass of sparkling mineral water which he drank thirstily. He found it quietly entertaining that every time he emptied the glass, the man rushed forward to refill it and within about a short space of time had to excuse himself due to an overfilled bladder.

Giacomo turned to Jane with a smile.

"He is a strange young man, is he not?"

[Jane]

"No trouble? We trashed your house, destroyed your city and made you into a wanted woman. Lady, if that had been ME, I'd have expected nothing less than an apology."

"Well," Jane said reasonably, "that's why I said it wasn't exactly no trouble."

Though, hey, if he suddenly remembered trashing her house and making her a "wanted woman," his memory must be coming back! Hurrah! She hadn't stoned him permanently.

"Besides, it's not my city, and my rent was overdue. It was probably time to move on anyway."

Being able to pamper oneself all day in someone else's villa made things like destroyed apartments much easier to bear.

Then dinner (or at least one of the several bits of it) appeared, and John's attention was completely diverted, though he did graciously offer her the platter first. She tried to take hers quickly, guessing that he'd want to basically dump the rest of the plate in his mouth whole, seeing as he hadn't eaten at least since yesterday.

Jane let the servers pour for her - a little wouldn't do anything too bad, would it? She didn't have much tolerance due to her whole... system thing, but she could take a glass or two. John declined, though. Given his reaction to the drugs earlier, Jane wholeheartedly approved this idea.

"I don't do well on alcohol. Last time I had a glass of wine, I got a bit over-enthusiastic with some candle lighting."

"You must be a fun date," Jane said, savoring her appetizer thing, which she couldn't identify but which was still delicious.

John left after teasing the water-pitcher guy for a few minutes, and then Giacomo turned to her.

"He is a strange young man, is he not?"

"Definitely," Jane said, thinking back to the whole bookshelf thing. "I think he's got a decent excuse, though."

[Pyro]

"I think he's got a decent excuse, though."

"Indeed. He has been through much in the last day. He is much the same age as my own son. It is hard for me to believe he is trying to accomplish what Magneto accomplished, but there may be hope for mutantkind yet."

Giacomo steepled his fingers under his chin and observed the young woman critically. "It sounds to me like you risk much to help them out of a situation. Our cause welcomes you."

The young conquering hero returned from the bathroom at this point, arriving at more or less the same time as the soup course, which he devoured in short order, reaching up often to snatch at the bread in the basket placed in front of him. When he'd been at Xavier's Institute, John had rarely chosen to eat with the other students, simply because of this, his ravenous appetite. The time on the streets had left him half-starved by the time he arrived there and for days he'd sneak into the kitchen at two in the morning and snack out of the fridge.

Some habits never died.

"This is," he said, through a mouthful of warm ciabatta, "bloody fantastic."

A thin dribble of soup ran down his chin and he absently wiped at it with the back of his hand. He looked up hopefully at the server who replenished his bowl.

He ate three bowls of soup and damn near an entire bakery of bread.

[Jane]

"Indeed. He has been through much in the last day. He is much the same age as my own son. It is hard for me to believe he is trying to accomplish what Magneto accomplished, but there may be hope for mutantkind yet."

"He's too young for this," Jane said softly, taking a sip of wine. "It's not fair on him. On any of the kids."

Jane had always hated how it always seemed to affect the young when something like this happened. It was always the young who tried to stand up against oppression, whether real or imagined, and always the young who ended up having to fight while the older people threw up their hands.

God, she sounded ancient. Jane forgot sometimes that she was 26 and supposed to still be carefree.

"It sounds to me like you risk much to help them out of a situation. Our cause welcomes you."

Jane smiled, flattered. "Thank you," she said, despite the fact that he'd been shot, after all, and what did everyone expect her to do, leave him to die?

John returned to the table and Jane tried not to look like she'd been talking about him, but it wasn't as if he was paying attention in the first place. She watched with interest, eating a small amount of the appetizer and soup course in anticipation of the main meal, as John apparently tried to make his stomach explode.

Well, he hadn't eaten since yesterday at least. still. It never ceased to amaze her just how much boys, especially teenage boys, could pack into their systems.

"You've got to have a hollow leg or something," she said as the server took the remaining half of her soup away.

[Pyro]

"You've got to have a hollow leg or something."

He grinned at her, a most disarming grin that was oddly incongruous with the Angry Young Man he attempted to be the rest of the time. "My mother used to say that when I just a little kid. Both legs, even."

The main pasta dish arrived, a ravioli pasta in the most exquisite and delicate sauce and much to John's joy, more bread. He could have wept. In anticipation of his hunger, the kitchen had been warned in advance and his portion was at least twice, if not more, the size of everyone else's.

"I love Italian food," he said to Giacomo. "I never imagined this time two years ago that I'd be sitting in a villa in the Italian countryside eating the real thing." He also hadn't envisaged that the reason he'd be there was because he was recovering from a near-fatal gunshot wound, but he sort of skipped over that one.

He ate everything on his plate, mopping up the sauce with another slice of bread and drinking more water. At least he had an appetite, and that should certainly help with the blood situation going on his body. He had colour in his face that wasn't a blush and he looked for all the world like any other healthy young man.

The light was beginning to fade outside, so one of the servers began lighting the candles. Almost absently, John glanced up from his food, the light of sheer delight in his eyes at the first sign of fire he'd seen for a day. With a snap of his fingers, a small flame leapt from the lit candle to the next, to the next, to the next...until they were all lit and the remaining spark of flame curled to the palm of his hand.

"I practised," he said, somewhat vaguely.

[Jane]

For a moment, John didn't look anything like a mutant leader or like the crazy guy who'd stacked up books in order of height earlier. He looked like a kid - exactly what he should be.

"My mother used to say that when I just a little kid. Both legs, even."

She hated boys. Boys and their metabolisms. "Both legs and your head, maybe," Jane said, her tone light. "You'll blow up like a blimp when you hit forty."

If he hit forty.

The main course arrived, and Jane smiled when she noticed that the kitchen had apparently picked up on John's enthusiasm for their food.

"I love Italian food. I never imagined this time two years ago that I'd be sitting in a villa in the Italian countryside eating the real thing."

Once again, Jane realized with a start (why wouldn't the starting go away? She'd done it like six times now) that it was still just over a day since she'd been trying to scrape together enough to purchase protein and to get her flat three months behind rather than four. Wild.

At least, though, John's appetite meant that he'd be producing a whole lot of new cells tonight, especially considering the (she only just noticed) iron- and carbohydrate-dense meal. He'd be right as rain in no time.

The sun finally dipped behind the horizon, leading one of the servers to light a candle. John performed a little parlor trick, and Jane held herself away from the table carefully until she was sure he wasn't going to set her on fire.

"I practised."

Well, it was a cool trick, anyway. "Obviously," Jane said, eyeing the little flame in his palm. How flammable, exactly, was she? She knew she was sensitive to heat, anyway, even if her skin came back fine. "Can you put that thing out?"

[Pyro]

"Can you put that thing out?"

Why would I WANT to?

The answer he wanted to make wouldn't leave his mouth, because he saw the look of uncertainty in her eyes. "'Course I can," he said and closed his palm, snuffing out the flame, reluctantly. "If it's any consolation, I don't generally set fire to people unless they get in the way, but I'm sorry if that bothered you. Want me to kill the others?"

He then seemed to look at her properly for the first time, his eyebrows knitting together in concentration. He proceeded to make the most profound statement he had made in the past twenty four hours.

"You're green," he said. "I just realised. And you do the thing with the plants. No wonder you don't like fire."

This earned a roar of laughter from Giacomo which caused John to snap his head in the other man's direction. "You laughin' at me?"

"Not at all, son," chuckled Giacomo. "Not at all."

"Good," said John, uncertainly. "'Cos I don't like people laughing at me."

He turned back to Jane. "So...what's your story, anyway?"

[Jane]

"'Course I can."

He closed his hand and Jane breathed again.

"If it's any consolation, I don't generally set fire to people unless they get in the way, but I'm sorry if that bothered you. Want me to kill the others?"

"No, they're far enough away," she said, glancing at the candles - she couldn't feel the heat coming off them the way she could the one from John's hand. "But do remind me not to piss you off."

Though now he was looking at her funny. Jane wondered if she was in the way yet.

"You're green. I just realised."

Well, what did you say to that? "Yes," she said slowly, eyes concerned. "Yes, I am."

"And you do the thing with the plants. No wonder you don't like fire."

Oh. OH. Okay. Good. "A lot of people don't like fire," Jane said, vaguely, bizarrely indignant. "But yeah, I guess I'm... more flamamble than most."

"You laughin' at me?"

"Not at all, son. Not at all."

"Good. 'Cos I don't like people laughing at me."

Jane shook her head and finished off the last of one of her raviolis (raviolii?) with a wry smile.

"So...what's your story, anyway?"

Jane looked back up at John, a small crease between her eyebrows. "My story?" she asked. "Which one?"

[Pyro]

"My story? Which one?"

"The condensed version of your whole life story if you like," he said, shrugging easily and picking apart another piece of bread almost systematically until it was nothing but crumbs on his plate. "How about telling me exactly what your mutation is capable of, and what you can bring to the Brotherhood's cause?"

He pushed the crumbs around the plate a little vaguely and glanced over at Giacomo, who was sitting silent once again, sipping on his wine and watching the exchange with interest. "You probably know something of our story. The Brotherhood was put together by Magneto to stand up for mutant equality and rights and to take our rightful place as the superior species on the planet. Homo sapiens don't see that we're the next step on in evolution and they fear us. Magneto...Magneto was lost at the battle of Alcatraz, several months ago, and many of our number were needlessly slaughtered, or restored to a lower level of consciousness by the Worthington Cure. I'm attempting to restore our numbers and ultimately we will start making our presence known again."

He watched her carefully.

"We're basically a group of freedom fighters."

[Jane]

"The condensed version of your whole life story if you like. How about telling me exactly what your mutation is capable of, and what you can bring to the Brotherhood's cause?"

Condensed. Well, you could condense Jane's pretty easily into 'I move around a lot.' "Um... I'm from Kansas originally," Jane said, aware that Kansas was probably the official Lame State. "I didn't know about mutants until I was about sixteen. I found a paper and left home, and after that I just kind of moved around a lot. Saw most of the East Coast and then I jumped the Atlantic - I never really wanted to go West again, too close to home. Far's my mutation goes, just basically what you saw - I make junk grow. Really fast, sometimes. Anything that occurs in the plant world, incuding fungus and some bacteria, actually, I found that out last year, I can control. And I can change plants into other plants, which helps when there's isn't exactly what I need just around the corner. There's always grass somewhere."

She picked at her ravioli vaguely, trying to think what else she could say. She'd never really tried to explain the whole thing to someone before. Usually they left it at 'I make junk grow.' "Sometimes," she said, "I feel like I can give myself more energy from somewhere. I don't know how it works, but I can just think that I need a boost and I have one. But it's weird energy. It feels like being on speed or something. And my skin - apart from being green, which I hope you picked up on by now, it's really delicate. I think I'm more leaf than girl. I bruise and cut really easily, but I heal up in a few days, and I don't wrinkle at all. No hair, either, except what's on my head - at least none that grows by itself, and it's always really delicate. It's why I wear gloves, because my hands are too fragile."

She flexed one inside Giacomo's daughter's white glove, almost reflexively. "I don't know what else. But the plant thing's got a pretty wide scope. I keep finding out new things I can do - I can produce acid, even make stuff move. Venus fly traps have reflexive motion parts in them, almost like muscles, so if I really want to freak someone out I can put them in anything and make it move."

There, now she'd rambled for about four years.

"You probably know something of our story. The Brotherhood was put together by Magneto to stand up for mutant equality and rights and to take our rightful place as the superior species on the planet. Homo sapiens don't see that we're the next step on in evolution and they fear us. Magneto...Magneto was lost at the battle of Alcatraz, several months ago, and many of our number were needlessly slaughtered, or restored to a lower level of consciousness by the Worthington Cure. I'm attempting to restore our numbers and ultimately we will start making our presence known again."

God, that must've been awful. She'd watched some of the footage from security cameras and news teams at one of the underground clubs, the entire place gone silent.

"We're basically a group of freedom fighters."

"Sounds pretty good to me," Jane said. "Better cause than a lot of other fights I could name."

[Pyro]

"Better cause than a lot of other fights I could name."

"Some people have a different sort of name for us, of course," said John, almost airily. "They call us terrorists. But Magneto, y'know? He had a dream. He had a vision, and he had drive. He saved me from the idealistic fate of the X-Men - you ever hear of them, Jane?"

He had pulled the Zippo lighter out of his pocket and was running one finger along its edge almost affectionately. In a rather uncharacteristic show of self-restraint, however, heedful of Jane's comment with the candles earlier, he was refraining from playing with it. "I could have ended up on their side, but they just don't understand. They believe that humans and mutants can live together in goddamn harmony, but it isn't ever gonna happen. It's 'them' or 'us' and that's just the way it has to be."

He set the lighter down on the table and looked up as the server came to remove the main course. He listed a selection of desserts, including ice cream or coffee, but John's brooding expression lightened at the word 'Tiramisu'.

[Jane]

"Some people have a different sort of name for us, of course. They call us terrorists. But Magneto, y'know? He had a dream. He had a vision, and he had drive. He saved me from the idealistic fate of the X-Men - you ever hear of them, Jane?"

"I've heard of them," Jane said. This might not be the best place to mention she'd considered joining them at one point, even if she'd turned down Xavier eventually. "I think everyone's heard of them by now."

John began handling his lighter again, stroking it lovingly, but didn't flick it open, much to Jane's relief. She just... didn't like fire. Or too much heat, really. Though too much cold was just as bad.

Man, she was more leaf than girl.

"I could have ended up on their side, but they just don't understand. They believe that humans and mutants can live together in goddamn harmony, but it isn't ever gonna happen. It's 'them' or 'us' and that's just the way it has to be."

Jane leaned her chin on her palm, contemplating John. He really was way too young for this. And, obviously, existing on someone else's dogma. Not that she disagreed - she didn't - but jeez.

He was so going to snap.

The server interrupted her contemplation, rattling off a litany of desserts. It felt weirdly like a restaurant - not that Jane had ever been to one as nice as Giacomo's dining room. She asked for the tiramisu as well, not sure exactly what it was, but if the rest of the meal was anything to go by, it should be amazing.

[Pyro]

John noticed her uncertainty and a small smile played around his lips. "Tiramisu," he said, conversationally. "Literally means 'pick me up'. It's sponge fingers soaked in coffee and rum and sometimes other alcohol as well...then a fantastically creamy topping with...mmmm, chocolate."

She could have sworn that his eyes misted over slightly as he talked.

Chocolate. Sugar. Alcohol. Coffee. Every single one of them stimulants that from what she'd seen of his system over the last couple of days may - or may not - do him harm. Not that he seemed to care about that, he was lost in some sort of dessert nirvana.

[Jane]

"Tiramisu. Literally means 'pick me up'."

"Oh," Jane said, expecting some sort of sugar confection. At least someone at the table knew what was going on. Well, someome other than the resident native Italian.

"It's sponge fingers soaked in coffee and rum and sometimes other alcohol as well...then a fantastically creamy topping with...mmmm, chocolate."

Though it all did sound delicious, John was getting a really funny look on his face.

"Are you sure that's wise?" she asked carefully. "What with everything in your system, I'm not sure I want to get your heart rate up too far - I don't even want to know how everything would react to alcohol. You'll overtax your liver."

[Pyro]

He stared at her for a few moments. The candle closest to him flared up briefly then settled down. Unseen by him, Giacomo set down his wine and moved into the sort of position that meant he could move very fast if he had to.

Eventually he spoke. And he said the words that anybody with more than two brain cells to rub together would have expected a barely out-of-his-teens boy to say.

"What the hell are you, anyway, my mother?"

He held one hand out, glared into the candle flame, which looped slightly, created almost a perfect arc and rolled into his hand. He passed the flame from hand to hand thoughtfully until Giacomo said, in a very quiet voice, "John, you've made the point. The lady asked you to extinguish the flame, now do so. You are a guest in my house and you will behave as such."

John scowled and for a moment it looked like he was going to ignore Giacomo, but then he snatched his hand away, and the flame died out. It somehow managed to give off the impression that it was disappointed by the fact.

"I'll have cheese and biscuits then," he said, in a somewhat sulky tone.

[Jane]

He stared at her, and Jane wasn't sure whether he hadn't understood her, whether he was still confused from the cocktail of drugs that she'd forced into him over the last day or so, or whether he was too angry to speak.

"What the hell are you, anyway, my mother?"

Evidently the latter. Jane felt rage of her own curl in the pit of her stomach. He was just a kid - whatever else he was, whatever he controlled, she had years and experience on him, and she knew what she was talking about.

"If it means I can make you see sense," she said, watching the flame that he'd commandeered closely but betraying no fear, "then yes."

She was gonna become a steamed vegetable soon, wasn't she.

"John, you've made the point. The lady asked you to extinguish the flame, now do so. You are a guest in my house and you will behave as such."

Jane looked down at her folded hands, away from the flame, slightly ashamed of herself. Belatedly she released her grasp on the vines crawling up the side of the house, at first unaware that she'd even taken hold of them, even mentally.

The light from John's hand died, and she looked gratefully at Giacomo.

"I'll have cheese and biscuits then."

"I think I'm fine for now," she told the server when he turned to her, her appetite gone. "No thank you."