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[hippie_ninja]

This is Jesus. Leave a message.

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[fireshow]

People actually do that here? Have fun?

[ Brow raised, total sarcasm, he laughs a bit then, turning his hand over, palm up, and letting a sliver of fire slip down from the magic little ring he wears that allows him to "borrow" fire. He lets it grow into a ball, no bigger than a golf ball and holds it between his fingers, leaning it towards Jesus. ]

Wanna hold it?

[ If Jesus does, he'll find it's warm. Not hot. Because John is the one who controls it. John's the one making it warm. ]

[hippie_ninja]

[he takes it fully expecting it will burn if he holds on too long, and that it will fizzle out before it can cause damage. Instead it's the temperature of a mug of coffee and he cups his hands around it, his eyes lit up with the delight of something magical]

How do you do this?

[fireshow]

I don't know. I just can.

[ It's like asking how a telepath can read minds, or how someone can fly, how Scott can shoot beams from his eyes. It's just... a part of them. Like a sixth sense.

He watches the way Jesus holds it and it always makes him feel... something, when someone isn't freaked out by what he can do — by what he is. ]

I can feel it. I can sense it nearby. I can change its temperature and make it be whatever my imagination lets me. I just can't create it. I need an external source of it.

[ His magical little ring since his flamethrower had been damaged a long time ago here. ]

[hippie_ninja]

[Jesus has seen exactly how terrible the human race can get. He knows how badly people must have reacted to other people being able to do things like this.

But he's not one of them. He, for his part, is awed.]

It's incredible.

[he rolls the ball of flame over his palms, over the backs of his knuckles, like a coin trick]

[fireshow]

[ Despite the nearly two years that he's been here and how much more accepting others have been of him (and his kind) here, it still gives him pause — still has him feel a certain way whenever someone says something like that about what he can do. ]

If only everyone thought that.

[ Words said softly, he looks to the ball Jesus plays with and, suddenly it changes — takes the shape of a small bird that perches itself there on the other man's knuckles. While there's no chirping to be heard, it does flap its wings, ducks its head down, even hops a little there on the man's knuckles. Still warm and capable of being touched like a real bird. ]

[hippie_ninja]

[He is as gentle with this bird as he would be with a real sparrow, touching its chest with one finger, stroking its head and back]

I could do this for a while.

[Just warning him, Jesus might never get tired of playing with fire he can touch.]

[fireshow]

[ He sure would have been handy against hordes of zombies with his fire manipulation. Shame it doesn't do much against giant machines programmed to hunt and kill his kind. ]

It has its perks. [ A pause, he rolls to lay on his back, looking up to the ceiling, the little fire bird still hopping about and nuzzling at Jesus' fingers. ] Not always enough though.

[hippie_ninja]

[He looks over at John, brow furrowed, then back at the bird]

What do you mean?

[fireshow]

[ He still doesn't think he can talk about what happened — that he was killed here last month by one of the very things made to do just that to his kind. It's just easier to deny it. Pretend it never happened. Not healthy, but. You know. ]

Nothing.

[ Looking to the bird, it changes then into a fiery cat that nuzzles at Jesus' beard, standing there on his lap and arms for attention. ]

Never have to worry about burning myself at least.

[hippie_ninja]

[He strokes the cat's hair, marveling at the way the flames flicker around his fingertips]

You had to fight a lot at home?

[It's a guess. A hunch, really, but he's pretty sure the answer is 'yes'.]

[fireshow]

You could say that.

[ He looks back up to the ceiling then, an arm tucked behind his head as he does. ]

Humans don't like us. Mutants. [ He clarifies. ] Because you know how people are. If it's different to whatever their idea of normal is, it's a threat. It's dangerous. It's wrong.

[hippie_ninja]

[He hums softly, regretful. He does know. John wouldn't have been any safer in the old world, but he would have been a hero in the one Jesus left. Partly because most humans are dead.]

Have you always been able to do this?

[fireshow]

Not since I was born. Well— [ He shrugs. ] the x-gene, as they call it, has always been there, I guess. But it's usually around puberty when a mutant discovers they have their powers, whatever that is. I'm not exactly an expert in genetics or anything, so.

[ Another shrug, he looks over to Jesus and the cat pawing at the man's beard. ]

I've killed people though. [ That comes out a little softer than he means it to, gaze drifting off for just a moment. ] I don't regret it. I can't regret killing people who wanted me dead. Who hurt others like me.

[hippie_ninja]

[He nods--just a little, because he's enjoying letting the firecat play with his beard]

I don't regret killing any of the people I have. There's always been a reason--my life, or someone I'm protecting. Something that had to be done.

I don't believe in it as a first response, but I don't think you should regret killing if it means saving yourself, saving people you care about. People who depend on you.

[fireshow]

I don't know if I would have called it that.

[ Shifting, he sits up then, a glance down to his lap where he covers himself a bit before he leans back on his hands, looking off across the room. ]

I don't really fit in anywhere. Here, back home. I just drift a lot. I don't know where I belong. I feel like I try to, but then some part of me doesn't like it. I feel the need to constantly run. Maybe it's just cause it's what I've always done. Or it's easier to be on your own. I don't know.

[hippie_ninja]

[He frowns, and sits up as well, still holding the fire.]

I ran away a lot as a kid. I grew up in a group home... every time someone would foster me I'd have a good week, good two weeks, and then I'd bolt.

I still do that. It's not easy to be alone, but at least then you know what to expect. You know, I thought I'd found a place to belong. I fought to save it. But by the time I came here? I just felt trapped. [he still feels trapped. He gets it.]

Do you feel like you belong with your Dom at least?

[fireshow]

Depends on my mood.

[ He tries to shrug it off with a soft laugh, but it's also the truth. ]

I just feel like a lot of stuff is pointless. That staying alive is as good as it gets.

[hippie_ninja]

[For nearly everyone Jesus knows, it is. He's always strived for more, though.]

What's a good day look like for you? Not an average day, a good one.

[fireshow]

I don't know.

[ Tilting his head some, he gives a shrug of a shoulder. ]

I try not to have those actually. Good things. Because it sucks when they eventually end up leaving. Or whatever.

[hippie_ninja]

[Another little nod.]

That must make it hard to enjoy them when they do come along, though.

[fireshow]

Or maybe I'm just a really fucked up person who can't deal in the same way others can.

[ He shrugs as he looks over to Jesus. ]

Fire's known to be destructive after all.

[hippie_ninja]

The way you're dealing makes sense to me. Even the destructive parts. You would have fit in fine in my world.

Besides. You didn't have to do this [the room] for me but you did.

[fireshow]

[ Letting his gaze linger on the other man, he looks away then, face scrunched up some. ]

Yeah, well.

[ Choosing not to finish that, he looks over to the fiery cat who sits there on Jesus' lap, hand held out to gesture for the cat to come over. When it does, fiery little paw touching his palm, it collapses into flame which John curls into his palm and puts out. Extinguishing it. ]

[hippie_ninja]

People have all kinds of advice on how to survive. Whatever you need to do to keep going, I understand.

[If it means he doesn't let Jesus get too close. If it means he needs to run, sometimes. If it means they get nights like this where they suck each other off or trade books.]

[fireshow]

And how do you survive?

[ He asks, genuinely. For once not flippantly. ]