Pulling a knife from his boot, he cuts into the cake that the waitress brought out, a chocolate concoction.  The slab he cuts looks like it would feed a small village.  He takes a large bite before speaking.  "Where I be from, muties ave a tendency to be a bit... brain blasted.  Most be cannibals and gotta be put down." His trench coat lies open as he shoves cake into his mouth, showing a small caliber mini gun on one side, a holstered pistol on the other and two worn revolvers on his hips. "Coarse, I realize not all muties from different world be the same."

He points to the beer and the cake.  "Ifn ya be wantin some, just ask."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:42, Thu 18 Mar 2010.

"And that, good sir, is why we tend to prefer the term meta-human. Has so much less of a negative connotation. As for water controllers... Met a couple of them," he said, "And they're scary." He grinned. "Nothin' I couldn't handle, though."

He eyed the show of arms the man had. He bore watching. It didn't, however, diminish his cocky grin. He really was enjoying himself. He got himself a glass of the strong drink and began nursing it, taking another drag of his cigarette
This message was last edited by the player at 15:33, Thu 18 Mar 2010.

Hagarth glanced around, making sure nobody else was watching, and the he turned to Max. "No, I'm mighty fine, thanks." he said, eyes shifting.

Max rolled her eyes.  Males of all breeds of all worlds were apparently the same.  She didn't need guns or fire, they were toys.  Fun toys, perhaps and she carried a weapon, as it was quicker, easier. But still.  It was like eating your food raw because you were too lazy to cook it.  Still food, perhpas had a time and a place, but... When her kind showed their normal form there were those back home that died instantly of fright.  The thought actually made her smile, and she turned to Jethro.

Your right... not much water.  If I could choose, I'd choose water... The sweetness of the cake was attracting her.  Though it was not the cake she wanted, but the frosting.

He sits back, chewing on another bite of cake.  "In the world where I be living, violence be eminent.  Water not be as effective as fire.  Sure ya can fill der lungs wit water, but ya can do the same thing with fire. Both be killin, but one be faster."

He holds the knife out to Max and gestures towards the plate of cake.  "I kin see ya want some.  Go on truta, help yourself."

I just like water better. Although Max had to admit she wasn't that found of water either, it was just better than smoke or flame. She liked earth.  Mud. Dirt. But this was not anything she needed control of.  As far as she was concerned she had all the control she needed over this.

With a moments hesitation, Max accepted the knife and cut a piece of cake, and then divided the piece in half, though not the usual shared distribution.  This half divided mostly cake from mostly frosting.  She offered the cake portion to Hagarth with a warning look that clearly said, 'eat it properly or else.' She then set upon the frosting.

Dave had just been watching though at cinders comment he chimes in
The human body is over 70 percent water, at least where I come from. Couldn't they just rip the water from a persons cell's or burst the blood vessels in a persons brain?
This message was last edited by a game moderator at 07:46, Sat 20 Mar 2010.

"And that is why water controllers are scary," replied Mitch. "But if you think of heat energy as a special kind of kinetic energy, and what you're really doing is forcing groups of molecules to move at rapid speeds; and that furthermore, everything is affected by heat in some way..."

As he spoke, he held up his hands about six inches apart. The air between them began to shimmer like what you would see over the desert as a mirage.

"You're not affecting a mere seventy percent. You're affecting everything."

Cinder shakes his head.  "Nah, it dont work like that most of the time.  Most magi, be needin to see or touch what they be affectin.  Harder to work without contact of visuals.  Ifn a hydromancer touches ya, dey can do some real wizzer shit.  Course, a magi that deals in flesh can touch ya and fire every pain center in yur body.  Instantly incapacitatin ya and killin ya in the most agonizin pain you ever thought of in about 12 seconds.  Sides, in the time it takes a hydromancer to pulls the water from yur lungs."

He draws a pistol in a lighting move, spins it once and re-holsters it..  "Ya kin plug im so full of holes they be fate meat.  Hydromancy be good fur waterin the flowers."

She looked at Dave and nodded, contemplating what he said.  The man had been so quiet she'd almost forgot he was there.  Of course, in her world you couldn't count on the 'person' before you being human, and that would shift things...

I don't want to have to touch what I kill. Max commented to no one in particular and she finished off the frosting.  She didn't want to get that close to people, if she could help it.  There was no point. And she generally didn't like mess.

Hagarth eyed Cinder. The mans' magic was quite interesting; it seemed that his control over fire extended beyond just the control over energy. He would have continued thinking about this, however his short attention span got the better of him. "Aye, well I want power over liquor. That way, I can steal all the liquor in the bar, and there aint be nothin' anyone can do about it!" Hagarth said, grinning. He truly believed that he was quite smart for coming up with something so unique.

Mutants controlling fire... fraggin great.  Not that he had any fear of fire, it was just he didn't like the idea.  With the second piece of cake and the second beer gone, he finally sits back and lets out a sigh.  "I gotta stop burnin like that."

He reaches for the pitcher of beer pouring himself a third glass, but this time he takes only a small drink.  Seeing the waitress still hanging around, he holds up a hand pointing at the pitcher.  "Nother one.  And bring me one of dem sugar drinks.  Sweeter da better."

Looking at Hagarth he can only shake his head.  "Power over alcohol be easy... ya just need coin."  He pats the large pockets of his trench coat, the jingle of heavy coins obvious.

Max frowned at Hagarth. That last thing you need is alcohol. And you shouldn't be stealing it. She snorted, and then having finished the frosting began to take measure of the others on the porch.  None of them seemed to come from the same place, and none from her world.

Her attention shifted to the floating dragon.  The place was just odd.

On second thought, She announced, Who needs power over anything if you've got strenght and speed... and fright doesn't hurt either.

Hagarth looked around, as he wiped the excess mush off his hands onto his pants. "On second though, Max, I'll just have a backrub. Make sure you get you're thumbs nice and deep into the fat, deep down where the muscle be. I have the worsht knots, ye know." Hag said, as he rolled over onto his stomach, waiting for Max to slave over his sweaty dwarven back. "Oh, and make sure you dont put too much pressure. See, I have frail bones." added Hag.

Mitch laughed. "Well, clearly playing the dunce does a lot more than geeking out about advanced mathematical functions," he said. "Gentlemen, I think we can learn a lot from this dwarf. Despite his appearance, he clearly has more female attention then the rest of us do put together."

Max consider Hagarth for a moment, her eyes narrowed.  To him, she would probably seem unaturally strong.  She wasn't sure the little fellow had figured out yet she wasn't human and for a moment, the thought of clinching his shoulders and neck until the blood stopped flowing to his head was appealing.  But then, she thought the fool might decide he liked it, or consider it some kind of weirdly positive exchange.

So, she opted for the more direct approach.  And again he received a slap to the back of his head, not hard enough to hurt, particularly. At least not hurt anything but his pride. Enough of your bs Hogwart.

She then glared at Mitchell. Funny, you don't look dumb. Maybe your just having one of those  "fire fried your brain" moments?

He grinned and rocked his already precariously perched chair, his hands entwined behind his head. "Lady, if dumb's your thing, I can do dumb." He sat up, his grin softening into a more sincere smile. "But truthfully, I prefer people to get to know me and I them based on who they truly are."

He offered his hand. "Robert Mitchell." He was aware he had said his name, but he wanted to formally introduce himself. "Mid-twenty-first century, Earth. And you?"

And if 'my thing' is intelligent and capable and doesn't say dumb things? ... You've already blown it. Max snorted, and glanced down to Hagarth, as if even crediting the idea that the dwarf might have any authority with her, clearly proved her point.  She shook the young man's hand though.

I'm Max, from a world named Aruru. My time is called AABD. She shrugged.

"Good to meet you, Max," he said, quite sincerely. He seemed not to be phased at all by her pronouncement that he'd 'blown it'. Nor did he bother to defend himself. "AABD? What does that mean?" He leaned forward, elbows resting on his splayed legs, a genuine intrest in his handsome face.

It means last year was AABC and next year will be AABE... Max answered sincerely.  She'd known other places that had different system.  The whole notion of years though was pointless.  She would never see the turn of a year.  She hardly saw the point in why anyone counted.  Humans did, she quessed. Or maybe just for record keeping.

He has to shake his head at the continued antics of the toad.  The man was a fool for so many reasons.  With Max talking about years, he has to watch her reaction, gage her feelings on it.  When the sickly sweet sugar laden drink is brought out, he rises to take it.  Setting it in front of Max as he stands, stretching his legs and back.  "Ya be arctic Mitch.  She ain't big on fire."

He pulls his own cigarette pack from an inside pocket, the packaging seems primitive and the writing appears to be in Chinese.  He peels off the glove from his right hand showing it to be encased in a light blue flame and he uses his index finger for a light.  He looks at Max with concern.  "Oy Max, how long be one of yur days?"  He tosses her his watch.  "Each tick be a second, 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes be an hour.  24 hours in one of me days."

After getting slapped, Hag said in a confused tone, "What the heck was that for? What ever happened to 'if i scratch your back, you'll scratch mine' thing? Sheeesus ...". He then stumbled to his feet, and looked mitchell in the eye, and said, "One more word to the fine lady and I'll rip your heart out, and give it to her with a pretty pink bow! Then i'll rip out your lungs, and make meself a pair of bagpipes with em to play at yer funeral! What would yer mudder think, getting killed by a dwarf half your size? Oh, would that be shamin' ye ..." Hag threatened as he rolled up his sleeves, ready to pound the living daylights out of Mitchell.

Mitch didn't move. He just smiled. "Friend, though the race of dwarves such as yourself does not exist in my world, I have heard stories. Stories of a race that are as unmovable as the mountain and as fierce as the open sky. I have no doubt you could provide a match for me. However, in my world, women are free beings with a will of their own and fighting spirits to match. I sense that Max needs neither you nor I to defend her. She can do that quite well enough on her own."

Mitch didn't make eye contact with Max, but looked steadily at Hagarth.

A flicker of confusion passed Max's eyes as Cinder set the sweet drink down before her. It took a great deal of will not to reach for it. But she didn't understand, and as she raised her eyes in inquiry he started talking about time.  She didn't really understand that either but caught the watch and was trying to figure if it worked the same way as her world.

The confusion was no longer a flicker, it had spread solidly to her eyes at the watch and completely took over with Hagrath's words.  She'd been about to snap at him again, when he started on Mitchell... and then Mitchell...

She looked warily between the three.  Was this some kind of game? Where the two still at the bet? But now there were three...And there had been no time when Hag or Cinder had been alone with Mitch without her, the third couldn't possibly... unless they were telepaths.

She looked at Hag, no.  She was pretty sure there was no telepath there. She looked at Cinder. He was smart; he'd want to win.  Maybe not as much as she liked to win, but he wouldn't intentionally make something harder for himself.

She gave a reassuring and, she hoped, calming pat to Hag's shoulder, and then handed the watch back to Cinder.  My world we also have what you call ticks, beats. Like a heart.  Numbers track time. 1 beat be a second, 60 beats a minute. 30 minutes, 1 unit. 48 units a day.  30 days a cycle.  12 cycles a year. She met his eyes questioning if that answered him. She wasn't sure she understood at all.

He just gives a nod of acceptance to Max and goes to sit on the front steps, forgetting about his watch.  As he sits there, he unconsciously reaches over and picks up the dropped gun, sliding it into the vacant holster at the small of his back.  It had been discarded... toad must not have wanted it after all.  He even looses interest in his cigarette, choosing instead to turn it to a fine ash that falls absently to the ground.

"20 days..."