It was about eight o’clock at night on the weekend. The small pub was packed, packed beyond health and safety recommendations. There was a thick blanket of tobacco smoke clinging to the ceiling, it diffused down from the rafters and the yellow plaster and worked its way around the many patrons. The bar staff was rushed off their feet, tending to the constant supply of notes being waved in front of them. The noise was close to intolerable, the sounds of laughter, shouting, and an outdated sound system combined together to make something completely unheard. The lighting was mainly provided by faux antique gas lamps hanging from the side walls. The fluted glass coverings were stained yellow, casting a warm glow over the patrons.

A young girl, Fede, who looked no older than sixteen stood at the bar. She was forced towards the corner, and her back was hard up against the plaster. Her faded black baseball hat was pulled far over her brow, covering most of her face and her striking bright orange hair of which tuffs of short orange jutted from beneath. She was quite short, measuring in at little over five foot and seemed quite scrawny. She didn’t seem to take any pride in her appearance. Fede wore a washed out jean jacket that looked well worn. Under that was a dark grey, once black, Nike t-shirt with a badly faded tick across the chest. A pair of large, baggy denims was suspended by a soft leather belt that extended down to her knees. This belt was the only thing that kept the oversized jeans on her hips. The discoloured blue jeans had been badly abused. The hems had been shredded with tears running up the legs, some reaching up her calves. One thing that all her clothing shared was burn marks, they all seemed to be charred or scorched in some way.

With so many people in the bar, the bar tenders couldn’t keep track of who was ordering. All they saw was hands full of money, with their ears full of orders. She took another gulp of her strawberry and mango alcopop and sighed. One could say that this was Fede’s way of testing herself. Go to the busiest place possible, where it is close to impossible to concentrate and try to stay in control. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. A small smile crossed her pale lips. Things seemed to be going good for once.

Criss was in the bar because, well, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t go home to an empty apartment. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that Logan hadn’t come home. He also knew he should be looking for him but how do you find a kid in this big of a city? Especially a kid that doesn’t want to be found? So Criss came to the only places open late in the evening. Restraunts and Bars. He didn’t want to go to Dark though, since he worked there. It’s entirely annoying to get off work and sit around there all evening. So instead, he thought maybe an irish style might work better. It didn’t. The only difference was that here people were shouting, screaming, and talking. In Dark, you watched people dance.

Criss had been here for an hour already and had downed only one beer. The privelages of getting to the bar early was that you actually got a table. He’d gotten here and almost immediately had to use the restroom. The problem with a bar is if you get up, you’ve lost your table. He hadn’t been willing to do that yet. But now Criss finally stood and made his way towards the back where a short hall would lead to the rest rooms. He didn’t look nearly as healthy as he usually did. His tan was not glowing and warm as was normal, dark circles had formed beneath his dark eyes. His hair was still long, thick, healthy, but the luster seemed to have faded from it. This is what happens when a man doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, and worries about his child (yes, he calls Logan his child) for a few days. This is also about what happens when a man with Cancer doesn’t eat, sleep, and worries too much. His body was warm, his mouth dry. The heat of his body had nothing to do with the warmth of the building or being ill. The dry mouth was due to the beer.

Criss was out of place here. He could have fit in a dance club, he could have fit in a biker gang, in fact, his motorcycle was outside, parked along the curb. He just didn’t fit here. He was tall, standing six one with his boots one. His waist was slim, his shoulders broad and firm with muscle. His arms were fairly thick, as was his chest. But right now, he felt sluggish, muscles not wishing to carry even the beer bottle. He’s dressed in a pair of leather pants with loose fringes all the way down the side of both legs, a tight black, short sleeved shirt, and half fingered leather gloves with the same fringes. His hair hung down and loose. He brushed past her the first time. On the way out he frowned. Something about her. He stooped slightly to peer under the hat and shook his head. She was just a child. What was she doing in a place like this?

((sory it's a little crapy. I'm exhasted))

Fede too didn’t fit in well with this crowd. For one, she was a couple years underage. God help anyone that tried to ask for her identification. She would string together a catalogue of insults while protesting she was eighteen. Fede would do this until they gave up or she was kicked out, most of the time it was the latter. In all honesty, Fede didn’t fit in anywhere. She took a sip of her alcopop and sighed quietly, swilling the brightly coloured beverage around in the bottle.

It was about this time she felt a pair of eyes on her. An uncontrollable shiver ran down her spine, making her whole body shake. She didn’t know what that was and quickly dismissed it. Her head slowly raised, the warm glow of the yellow lamps casting their light onto her features. She watched Criss stagger down the short corridor and smirked, taking him for a drunk. She mumbled something, probably not too pleasant and lowered her head once again, turning her attentions back to the bottle in her hands and maintaining her concentration.

About ten minutes past without incident and Fede was feeling more and more confident about herself, maybe too confident. A single lapse of concentration had very serious consequences. Fede breathed in deeply and her eyes opened wide. She cleared her throat, dropping her bottle. It smashed on the floor, although the sound was close to inaudible with the ambient noise. Fede knew she had to get out, and fast. She could already feel something building inside of her. Her breathing was exasperated and fast, growing more and more frustrated with each passing second. There were so many people blocking Fede’s way, she couldn’t escape. This was a mistake, and Fede knew it.

She dropped to her knees, breathing heavily, clutching her head in hand. Many a patron looked down at Fede, they thought she was drunk and didn’t pay any attention to her panicked mumbles. It sounded almost like she was pleading to someone. Suddenly the smoke stained ceiling burst into a blazing inferno. A good foot from the ceiling was engulfed in a rolling flame that started from nothing. It was like a gas explosion. The flames licked down from the heavens towards the now alarmed patrons and a struggle ensued. Fede’s eyes were pinned closed, she knew what was happening without looking, it was almost as if the flames spoke to her. Her frantic pleads continued to no avail.

OOC: No problem, it’s totally fine. Besides, I’m going to be reduced to short paragraphs soon enough.

As Criss had left the bathroom he heard the startled cries of a startled crowd, the sudden sounds of shuffling feet. A place packed this tightly could easily become a mob. He walked calmly back down the corridor until he stopped. He could feel the heat in the air radiating down the hall. And he could feel the prickling of magic up and down his spine like little white-hot needles. He walked to the end of the corridor and his eyes flicked around. The crowd was rushing against each other, pushing and shoving. Only one wasn’t moving.

He moved towards the young woman on the floor armed with the knowledge that she was behind this, she obviously didn’t like it, probably hadn’t meant to do it, and that he had the power to control it for her. Or at least he hoped he did, he was feeling sluggishly slow. With his body being narrow but strong, it was not very hard for him to make his way to her. In fact, he was at her side in nearly no time at all.

Criss moved around behind her body, crouching down and nearly pressed to her back. He let loose his own power to flare with hers, to match hers. It roared with her fire, though, he’d not raised any fire of his own, only heat in his body. He used his body to shield her against people tossing her about. You cannot concentrate when your being pushed and shoved. The man pressed his lips to her ear and spoke over the shouts.

“Can you control it?” His hands were flat on her back, balancing him self. He used his body to ward people around them, hers to keep his balance so that neither of them were tossed. His heat matched hers, took some of hers into his own body, rising his, lowering hers. Maybe the flames shrunk a little with her heat and power lowering, maybe not. Criss didn’t spare a glance upward. Telekenesis and telepathy wouldn’t help now. Pyrokenesis would. Or should.

This was different than before, she didn’t know what was happening or what this other force she could feel was. It was an odd sensation, one that Fede couldn’t describe. It was with the sudden influx of heat that Fede realised she wasn’t alone. However Fede instantly jumped to the conclusion that this was somehow the other’s doing. The flames were fuelled by her and for a brief moment their flared, leaping down from the rafters towards the fleeing patrons.

She gasped, eyes snapping open as she felt someone’s lips against her ear. This by itself was a unique experience for Fede and something she would have preferred under less hectic circumstances. She felt a firm hand on her back as the words flowed into her ear. Criss’ words were perceived as compassionate and strong. Her mind began to jumble in thought. How did he know it was her? Why was he helping her? What did he want? How was he doing this? These were just a few of the frantic thoughts that crossed Fede’s mind before she even attempted to contemplate his words.

Even though Fede hated to admit it, this situation was beyond her. An odd sensation was passing through her body. It was as if the vigour was sucked from her, leaving her in a weakened state. The flames diminished somewhat, their mass reduced by about a quarter. She didn’t dare look on towards the man with his lips pressed against her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck. Fede cleared her throat and tried to speak the best she could under the circumstances.
“No…” Was the answer, even though it killed Fede to admit it.

Criss had hardly heard her, had had to lean into her to hear her around everyone. The gasp of the hurrying crowd was a singal that either the flames had grown stronger or less so. He still didn't look, he still kept his lips to her ear. No. She couldn't control it.

"Let me then."

He started to slowly draw her heat into his own body, his hand growing hotter and hotter, her own body growing cooler (if this was working). His body got so hot that people cried out touching him. He was now twice the heat that she had started, holding his and hers inside his body. The flames over head were probably disolving now. His big hands were spread over her back, nearly covering it and the tips of his fingers wrapping around her sides.

Fede continued to get weaker and weaker as he sapped the heat from her body. She had never been this cold before in her life. The flames overhead seemed to be asphyxiated, starved of their precious oxygen. Slowly but surely they began to dwindle until disappearing. The ceiling and rafters were charred black, turned to charcoal in some places. The heat inside the room slowly diffused, escaping through the entrance and smashed windows. The bewildered crowd watched the flames disappear in a panic, not knowing what they had just witnessed.

The patrons still clamored out of the small pub as sirens were heard off in the distance. Fede was totally exhausted and barely moving. She had a pair of large wing like scorch marks on the back of her faded jean jacket from where Criss’ hands were placed. At first glance they appeared quite trendy and could have probably been purchased for a couple hundred dollars at a trendy department store. Fede’s eyes closed lazily, half open. She wondered who her savior was. She felt strangely safe on the floor of the bar. Her eyes closed from fatigue.

Criss felt her relaxing beneath his hands, growing calmer and colder under his own scorching touch. After a few moment, with the bar patrons still rushing from the building, his own tempreture began to steadily lower and level out into a regular body tempreture. All that heat he pushed out of his mind in an equally steady flow into the air in all directions, ebbing out into the summer heat.

After a few moments, sound rushed back into his ears, heat and cool air mixing pushed against his skin. His concentration not being all for lower her heat, his other senses were becoming aware again, coming back from being pushed aside. He raised up, to stand, puling her up by holding his fingers tighter around the sides. He kept his lip pressed near her ear to speak over the crowd.

"Can you walk?"

Fede’s eyes opened slowly as she was plucked from the floor. Her vision was somewhat groggy, images blended and faded into each other. Once again she heard a compassionate voice in her ear.

“Yeah…” She said in a distant, cold tone.
She shrugged, letting Criss know he could let go of her. Fede almost instantly placed one hand on her temple with her fingers wrapping around her cranium. She was still very weak and seemed almost drunk. She staggered after the crowd, leaving the small pub. The sirens were getting louder and a flickering blue, red could be seen beyond the buildings. She wanted to get as far away from here as possible. There wasn’t any real reason for this, it wasn’t like she was about to be blamed or anything. She emerged outside, instantly heading to a supporting wall and leant against it. She closed her eyes again, trying to make the images focus.

Criss followed her, his hand physically leaving her body but one hand made a fist of her jacket so he would not loose the smaller woman in the crowd. The air outside was like a rush of cold to his skin as only a moment ago it had been scorching. He followed her to the wall and watched her lean on it.

Shaking his head he put his hands on either side of her body, palms against the wall. His blue eyes seemed to blaze fiercly with the heat he'd obsorbed and released. He shook his head, his eyes clear and his face looking as though absolutly nothing had happened.

"You can't walk."

He looked over his shoulder and watched the blue and red come nearer. He wrapped his arm around her waist and practiaclly began carrying her.

"Lets get away from here."

She tried to walk, however it was more a fruitless flailing of the legs. Fede moaned as Criss carried her through the crowds and down the street. She mumbled with discontent.

“What are you doing…?!” Fede finally spat out.
She began to struggle, although it was a little pathetic. Her body was already malnourished and her abilities took a lot out of her. Her mind was a mess, her eyes couldn’t focus on anything, everything was blurring together in a myriad of colour. She couldn’t help but think the worst of this situation, she always seemed to think the worst of people. Many disturbing images passed through her mind and Fede realised that she hadn’t even seen Criss’ face.

He slowed when she struggled.

"Alright....Aliright...I'm not doing anything to you." He said it softly, gently. It sounded like a father's voice speaking stranger's words.

He lowered her to the ground, propping her body to the wall of a building and taking several large steps backwards, carrying his body to the edge of the sidewalk where he stood on the curb on his toes, his heels hanging out over the gutter and he held his hands up slightly. He laced them on the back of his neck.

He stood there, four feet away from her, his tall frame trying to look as harmless as he possibly could. His long hair not even messed up from the efforts of lowering her tempreture.

Fede fell backwards against the wall, a dull thud coming from her ribcage. She took a deep breath before focusing the best she could on Criss. Her mouth opened a couple times, as if she was about to say something. Finally she found the words she was looking for.

“Who are you?” They were anticlimactic for the length of her pause. She sounded groggy and her voice crackled, slightly hoarse.
She only took her eyes off him to close them before refocusing. Her vision blurred in and out, for a brief moment her clarity returned and she was able to gaze upon Criss. She thought him to be handsome, far too handsome to be with her.
“What’d you want?” She quickly followed up in a suspicious tone.

Criss remained standing back, his fingers laced at the back of his head, flattening his hair to his neck. He watched her let her eyes focus, answered his questions immediatly without hesitation, in a voice slightly deeper and less hoarse then it had been in a whisper to her ear, but distinctly the same voice.

"GT." For GothTech, a stage name for his 'magic' tricks. Actually, his name was Criss Angel but very few people actually knew that. Even his foster son didn't know that. "I don't want anything from you, only your safty and my secrets kept."

He couldn't be sure now if she remembered what he'd just done, either way, he didn't want it to become common knowlege to the public. That and the fact that he was sure it would remain secret since she was obviously like him.

They were in the same boat. Fede couldn’t have told even if she wanted too, it would draw too much attention to her. And even if someone did believe her, he could simply deny it.
“Likewise… the secrets thing.” She cleared her throat, her voice became softer. “Well, umm… thanks.”

The thank you sounded forced, she wasn’t used to thanking others. She did think GT was an odd name and assumed it stood for his initials, however she believed it was something like ‘Greg’ or ‘Gary’ something-or-other. Her legs were trembling beneath her, she knew she wasn’t about to go anywhere. Fede’s vision returned to her after successive blinking. She rubbed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. She glanced to either side before staring at Criss.
“What did you do back there? I’m still cold…” This was more inquisitive than hostile.

"I interfeared."

Well, that was the simple way to put it. She was still cold. Oh yes, that's because he's drained all of her heat away in attempt to deminish the flames for her. He unlaced his hands, held them at his sides, fingers spread slightly. See, no weapon, just me. That's all. He took one step forward and stopped.

"I'm...going to come back over there and give youu warmth," even as he spoke, his body was warming beneath the surface, a higher then average tempreture but nothing that couldn't be explained by a fever. "I might have to touch you," because I've sent heat to unninitiates and non-pyro's without touch before but your power might reject mine from a distance.

He walked closer slowly, squat down an arms length from her, tried pushing out warmth. If her own pyro-ability didn't send his back, it would feel rather like fingers touching the skin, then molding over like a glove.

“Aright…” Fede said without really understanding. However within seconds she understood fully.
Her own ability didn’t reject the heat, in fact it was the exact opposite. The heat was drawn into her at an unpredicted pace. It was as if her body was a giant capacitor. Fede gasped deeply, never had she felt like this before. Her body wanted more, unsatisfied with the flow of thermal energy. The channels Criss was using to exchange heat were forced wider. Fede’s body took on a flaming, golden aura as more and more energy was sapped into her body. With what had just happened, it was probably a good thing that Criss decided to transfer without physical contact. God knows what may have happened otherwise.

He cut it off. As her body began to draw in more heat and energy then he was willing to feed it at the moment, he stopped the flow. It was like a fortress wall had just jumped up between them, cutting the flow in half like scissors through string. Criss sat back on his heels, hands on his knees.

"Your strong." It was a flat, empty but meaningful statment. Almost a compliment. "Are you warm now?"

Fede’s body still reached out of the source of heat until it realised there wasn’t any more. Slowly her bodies glow diminished, the aura around her disappeared, diffused into the night. She was left gasping for breath, filled with euphoria. It was very much like a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. She slowly slumped down the wall, ending in a crouching position with her knees at a forty five angle to her chest. There was a broad, Cheshire cat grin on her lips. The feeling slowly reduced and she was pretty much back to her old self. She looked across at Criss, that was twice she’d been rescued by him.

“Yeah… thanks.”
Fede was unused to complements and didn’t really know how to take it or react. She was still trying to figure out this guy’s angle. Slowly Fede stood up, dusting herself off. A thin layer of ash puffed out from her clothes. She continued to stare, wondering what would happen next. Criss was doing a good job of being unthreatening, this was probably the friendliest Fede had been in quite some time. She was still very distant and fearful of others.

Criss would have been glad to know he was doing a good job at looking less intimidating since he didn't feel very unintimidating. He felt like what he was, a big muscular guy sitting next to a little body. A pyro with skills enough to control another Pyro's tempreture. He watched her with icey blue eys while she calmed slowly back to what he could only assume was the 'usual her'.

"So. What happened back there? Why'd you blaze?"

Meaning why'd you loose it? Only, he says it in as gentle a voice as he can. It's the voice he practiced for the foster son he was going to have and had never needed to use. Never in his life had he dreamed a foster son could be like his Logan. Now he's using the voice, and it's not out of practice. It's not as soothing as a woman's voice would have been but he's working on it.

Fede shrugged, in all honesty she didn’t know. It was just something that happened every now and again. Like a glass slowly filling with water, sooner or later it overflows. She knew it was her fault though, she couldn’t blame her shortcomings on others.

“Guess I got too cocky, thought I could control it.” She said with another shrug in a nonchalant manner.
Fede didn’t want to think about the people that could have been killed if it wasn’t for Criss. Besides, maybe she could have brought it back under control without his help? One will never know now. She gazed across at him, her eyes were a vivid jade and very depressing. They portrayed the sadness and angst in her heart.
“So… what’s your story?”

She still kept her distance. Even though Criss was doing a good job at not threatening Fede, she still knew what he was capable of. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he could kill her if he so desired. Hence the reason she was holding her tongue more than she normally did.

"Cocky can do that to a person." Meaning she wasn't the only one to do that sort of thing before? Had Criss blazed a building before? Indeed.

He smiled gently, again, it was a smile he'd reserved for but had never needed or been wanted to use for Logan. It's strange, how different the people are that he attracts.

"Orphan. Loved magic. Heck, Hudinii was my idle. It just sort of..." he shrugged. He slowly unclasped his hands, put them palm down on the ground behind him and lowered down onto his butt, sitting with his hands flat behind him. He moved slow mostly for her benifit. "I was trying to imitate one of his tricks and set my clothes on fire. Stupid little boy as I was I hadn't thought I wouldn't be able to put it out. And spurisingly, it just went away when I thought it should. So you could say I stumbled onto the power on accident." Assuming that was what her question had meant by 'what's your story?'

He watched her eyes, jaded, he didn't think of sad. Lots of people were sad, but jaded. And such a young age.

She couldn’t help but smile as she listened to Criss’ story. She wondered what would of happened to him if he didn’t possess the ability to control the flames. She doubted he would be sitting in front of her today. This would have been an opportune moment for Fede to share her story as well, however she lacked the openness and familiarity to discuss it.

“Magic, huh? It always seemed patronising to me. But, heh… to each his own.”
She wondered where they went from here. All this time Fede was planning her escape. She wasn’t planning on running away, she just felt more secure knowing how to get out of a situation if need be. Her hand drifted unknowingly into her pocket and pulled a silver Zippo from within. She flicked the lid open, stuck the flint, letting it burn a second before snapping the lid shut once again. Fede didn’t smoke and it was unclear why she carried a lighter. It probably had something to do with control. She envied the lighter.

Criss had once upon a time carried a lighter too. He didn't envy it it's control. Rather, he was obsessed with it. Not with the lighter in particular but with the little dancing flame that struck up even when the gas was empty. He'd used a lighter to learn his focus, to put all his energy through it. Then he'd dropped it in a storm drain one day on accident and decided it was about time to learn to control himself without the aid of a little zippo.

He watched her flip open the lighter and wondered her connection, attatchment to it. His hand strayed from the sidewalk and rested on his chest unconsciously, messaging near his heart. It didn't really hurt, he knew it was all in his head, but a habit come is hard to break. He really did look sick, though, compared to most people he looked a little ill, if you'd known his before he'd gotten sick you wouldn't say just ill. In Logan's lovely language 'you like like shit.'

"To each his own." He frowned. "You really lost control back there." His own lose of control could have only damaged himself, her's could have killed or hurt many people. He wasn't about to throw that weight in her face but... "Have you ever tried to find someone to teach you control? Rather then try to get it yourself?" By endangering others, even if you didn't mean to. That last left unsaid of course because Criss is just too kind.

Fede obsessed over the flame too, she could watch its dance for hours. She was drawn to any source of heat or fire, like a moth to light. The lighter rotated in her grasp, her fingers caressing the silver with every turn. Her patience was wearing thing and she was running out of pleasantries. This could be heard in her voice.

“Don’t you think I know that?” She snapped, sounding more frustrated with herself than Criss. “You don’t realise how often this happens. I have to maintain control, everyone is depending on me. I’ve burnt crap with a giggle for god sakes!”
The air around Fede began to heat exponentially before Fede comprehended what was happening. She closed her eyes tightly, holding her breath. The air slowly returned to normal leaving her breathless.

“Don’t you think I’ve looked for help? You really think I want to hurt people? ‘Cause I don’t. I want to be normal and not fight a loosing battle with myself. Who was I going to ask for help? They don’t exactly have classes for this kind of thing at the local community college.” She finished with a sigh, calming down considerably.
Becoming too angry was a bad thing for Fede. On the other side of the scale, joy was met with the same results.

His smile faltered breifly when she sapped at him but then it was there again, as pleasent as ever. It's suprising that Criss can maintain the smile while being snapped at, well, actually....no it's not. Logan snaps quite often. Until now he'd wondered if it had been just Logan, now he's wondering if it's a common teenage thing.

He put his hands up in an 'i surender' sort of fashion and chuckled softly. "Your right. I shouldn't have asked."

He lowered his hands back down, one hand to the ground, one on his chest to massage again. He felt her lower the heat after catching it rise and watched her closely. She already had some ability to control it.

"Are you still looking for help?"

Fede snickered and as a smile grew across her lips.
“Why? You interested?” The corner of her mouth rose slightly as she smiled.
She continued to chuckle to herself, thinking it was a joke. Fede watched Criss carefully and noticed he rubbed his chest a lot. A small frown worked across her brown as she observed this mannerism.
“What’s with your chest?” She asked bluntly, nodding towards his hand. “Rash?”

“Cancer. Yes I’m interested. I could teach you to control it, to learn how to fluctuate it and use it.” He went on through the sentence as though Cancer was a common thing, which it was. He said it as if it didn’t matter; it wasn’t the issue at hand.

“That is, of course, only if you trust me.” He looked thoughtful for a moment and, now that he was aware he was doing it because she’d pointed it out, he peeled his hand away from his chest. “I don’t think I could tech you if you were busy worrying about your safety with me, you wouldn’t lend your full attention to the task.”

Fede cursed under her breath as Criss mentioned cancer. It would be her luck he’d have a terminal disease and she’d just have to make a snide remark about it. This feeling was comparable to calling someone one hasn’t called in ages only to find out they passed away long ago, stupid and embarrassed. She closed her eyes momentarily and sighed.
“Sorry… I didn’t know.” The apology sounded forced but sincere.

With that out of the way, Fede could turn her attention to more pressing matters. She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d be wiling to help her. Was it out the kindness of his heart? Fede didn’t know, and it worried her. She slowly slid her back down the wall, coming down to his level. She didn’t have any reason not to trust him, he had helped her earlier. Fede stared across the pavement towards Criss. Her need to control her powers overruled her suspicions and uncertainties.
“You… you’d do that for me? You could teach me how?”

OOC: this is Emrys on my sister's Screen name because I didn't feel like signing out and then back in again.

IC: Criss shook his head, flicked one hand cassually at her. "It isn't a big deal. Like you said, you didn't know." Actually, it was a huge deal. Not what she'd said but the fact that he had cancer. It was destroying him. Logan thought he was going to die. And what was worse, he had to look for back up foster parents for Logan, which was tearing him up more then the knowlege that he may very well die.

"Yes. Well," he shrugged, watching her come to eye level with his blue blue eyes. "I will try to. I've never actually taught anyone besides myself to control it, but I can definatly try." He watched her for a moment before adding, "but do you trust me to go places with me, alone, where we can't hurt anyone?"

Fede smirked, “Well I’ve never been taught before…” That was a bit of a lie, her late father taught her a small amount of control when she was very young, a lot of which she had forgotten.
How could she trust Criss, she’d only just met him not ten minutes ago. How could she trust him after such a short time? She could just see the headlines now, ‘Charred Remains of Girl Found in Woods’. She wondered if it would turn out that way. Fede studied Criss for a good minute, trying to come up with an answer to his question. She wanted to trust him and he hadn’t given her any reason not to. A warm sigh escaped her lips and her eyes closed momentarily.
“Yeah, I guess so.” She looked towards the pavement and blinked a few times, “I… I trust you.”
The words were forced from her lips and she stumbled over each one. They were so hard for Fede to say.

He nodded. "That will work for now." He smiled and got to his feet with as much ease as a human being could manage and held a hand down towards her to help her to her feet if she wanted to take the help. "If you ever feel uncomfortable with me, or like I'm too close or overbearing, anything at all, tell me and I'll do my best to accomodate you feelings."

That should help some right? He rested his hand over his chest, caught his mistake, and dropped his hand and tucked it into his pocket to keep from doing so again. "Have you got a ride home or do you live near by?"

After some hesitation, Fede took his hand and pulled herself to her feet. Her hand was small, soft, and very warm.
“Yeah.” She looked to either side, getting her bearings, “It’s not too far away, I can walk.”
She didn’t refer to it as a home, no. Homes were supposed to be nice and friendly. The most Fede could afford was a squalid apartment at the bad end of town. It was nice of Criss to think of her in such a way and it did boost her confidence in him to a degree. However trust like he was speaking of would take a long time for Fede.

They had a long time. Because Criss was determined not to die. It wasn't going to happen. Not while he was alive....ok, so that was a strange way to word it but you get the point. He released her hand. His own had been larger by far, warm, a little rough and very dry.

"Well, if it's not to far. I can give you a ride if you'd like." Then he thought a second and let himself touch his chest this time. "We'll need to wait for a while before I can start teaching you. I have a surgery in only a few days. After that I'd like to recover some so I can control you if you need it. Until then please try to avoid crowds." He pulled his wallet out and took out a card. "I'm not working that job anymore but the home number is still the same."

Fede looked down at the business card, rubbing her thumb along the firm edge. She palmed it into her back pocket, pushing it all the way down as not to loose it. Her apartment was actually farther away than she indicated, four or five miles at the least. It would have taken her two or so hours to walk it. She was about to decline Criss’ kind offer but stopped mid-thought. He was trying to help her, and she defiantly needed the help.

“Umm, sure. If you wouldn’t mind.” She watched him touching his chest once again, Fede could tell it was plaguing him on more than just the physical level. “Sure… I’ll try. So, like, I’ll give you a call in a week or so?”
She was eager to begin but understood he needed time to recuperate.

"Well try a week after the surgery. If I'm strong enough, then sure, absolutly. If not we'll get togather and start with smaller things," like your frame of mind when your using the magic. "Just give me a call and we'll set something up. If I don't answer and my son," yes, he's started calling Logan his son instead of foster child finally, "doesn't answer the phone then just leave a number or try again."

Criss smiled gently when she said if he didn't mind she'd take the ride. "If I minded, I wouldn't have offered." He turned and started to walk down the street away from the Twa Corbies, pausing and half turning. "You don't mind motorcycles do you?"

Fede followed a little distance behind Criss. It was almost like she didn’t know him and was simply walking in the same direction he was. She blinked momentarily, realising what she was doing. Picking up her pace, she came along side Criss and walked beside him. Again, this was an odd feeling for Fede.
“No, I don’t mind bikes.” She’d never ridden one before but it didn’t seem too difficult.

She wondered what his son was like and as of yet had heard no mention of his mother. Fede thought something terrible had happened, it didn’t cross her mind that he was adopted. She didn’t ask about his son or their circumstances, she didn’t feel capable of asking and it was none of her business. She slowly glanced up at Criss, quietly thankful that he was willing to help her.

((I'm sorry I took so long))

He walked at a steady pace, long strides but easy and slow in his pace, probably more then comfortable for her. He stopped on the curb beside a motorcycle, a harley-davidson road bike, or a dinoglide, to be more specific. It was painted a shinning black with a silver symbol over the gas cover.

He swung one leg over and kicked the kickstand up, balancing the bike and taking a black helmet from the handle and holding it out to her. "You wear it." Not a choice. If one of them was going to wear it, he was going to protect his passenger, not himself.

Fede looked the bike up and down and smiled briefly. Although she didn’t know much about motorbikes, it did look nice and she could appreciate the amount of work that went into it. She took the helmet as it was thrusted towards her. It was cold against her hands with droplets of condensation running along the clean lines. She grabbed her tattered baseball hat in one hand and pulled it from her head. Her hair was a mess, massacred into different lengths by the unforgiving blade of a penknife. It was bright orange and one could have sworn it wasn’t natural, but it was, even Fede wished it wasn’t. Her hair caused her many problems during her earlier years of life. Hence one of the reasons she kept it so short and beneath a hat. If it was allowed to grow out and she took care of it a little better, it may have been described as gorgeous.

She pushed the faded baseball hat into her coat pocket and quickly put the black helmet on. It was a bit big for her and the brim fell in front of her eyes, but it was better than nothing. She did the chin strap up the best she could and climbed onto the back. Her hands reached out, forming into two fists around the fabric of his jacket.
“Ready…” She said quietly.

He watched her remove the hat and almost smiled. The hair cut was terrible, the color was pretty. Hardly anyone could guess his hair was dyed, since it remained so healthy and soft, but it was. Even fewer would guess he'd also been a red head. Or, somewhat of one.

Her quiet 'ready' made him look over his shoulder slightly. "Are you sure?" It's gentle. "I'd offer to go slow but your safer moving faster. Slower gives risk to tipping over." Not that with his balance and experiance on motorcycles he'd tip over. There are two kinds of riders, those that have fallen and those that will. Criss has already fallen and learned from his mistakes.