video;

[shifting]

[there's a frazzled shapeshifter on your screens today, imPorts. He rubs a hand against his mouth and the scruff of his chin awkwardly, like he's going to make an effort to collect his thoughts - then promptly throws that plan out the window.]

Hey, uh. Sorta a specific question, but has anyone ever... lost track of a day and shown up at the Porter? With somethin' changed? Is that just - somethin' that happens on top of all the other weird shit this place does to a person?

Comments

[hostage]

With healing? Yeah, sure. I mean, mine works pretty different from most types, but we can try it out.

[shifting]

I'd appreciate it.

Different how?

[hostage]

I don't really heal people. I take damage and move it around. Anything that's wrong with somebody, I take it and give it to somebody else. Usually me, but not always. That's why I looked like I did, when you watched me that one time.

[shifting]

Shit. Shit, okay, yeah, that's different.

[and fucking dangerous. Something you'd really have to learn to use right or risk some really dire mistakes.]

Mine's, uh. Simpler. ...Fuckin' embarrassing really, compared to that.

[hostage]

[Jesse shrugs. It doesn't worry him that much.]

What's yours like?

[shifting]

...I think it involves me lickin' people to heal 'em.

[he promises that's not the bad pick-up line it sounds like.]

[hostage]

Ah.

[You sure, buddy?]

Sounds kinda gross. For you, I mean. Unless you're into that sorta thing.

[shifting]

Is that a thing? People bein' into lickin' open wounds? Not counting vampires.

[hostage]

People are into everything.

[shifting]

Guess I shouldn't be surprised.

I'm hopin' there's some other ways I can go about it if I need to. Won't know unless I test it.

[hostage]

Well, not to sound weird or anything, but I don't mind helping you. I'm a better guinea pig than most people.

[shifting]

Yeah? I won't turn down help.

...But what is it you mean by that?

[hostage]

We can test it.

[shifting]

All right. ...Yeah. Let's do it.

[hostage]

Should I head over to your place?

[shifting]

That works. Whenever you get time.

[hostage]

I'm free now.

[shifting]

Now's good then. I'll send the address.

[hostage]

[It's a short journey to Sam's place, thanks to the porters, so Jesse shows up just about fifteen minutes after Sam sends the address. He finishes off a cigarette and tosses it before knocking on Sam's door.]

[shifting]

[it probably wasn't difficult for Jesse to pick out which home was Sam's, considering it was the only one around, down a small path off the main road.

Sam lets Jesse inside his small, rustic abode with a smile and a nod, the former only slightly nervous. Sam's had his whole life to adjust to being a shifter (which was difficult enough on its own), but playing around with brand new freaky abilities has him understandably wary.]

Hey, glad you found the place okay. Get you somethin' to drink? Whiskey, beer?

[the glass on the counter suggests Sam's already started with that first one himself.]

[hostage]

[Jesse, on the other hand, isn't remotely nervous. He experiments with his powers almost daily, pushing himself to his limits on a regular basis. He's mutilated himself in just about every way imaginable, so whatever Sam needs from him, it's not likely to make him so much as blink.]

Whiskey sounds great.

[He doesn't need the drink, but Sam's started already and no one likes to drink alone.]

Love your place, man. It's gorgeous out here.

[shifting]

Whiskey it is. Ice cubes are still chillin', hope you don't mind takin' it neat. [but he'll assume the answer is 'no' and go about pouring his guest a glass in the small kitchen. The whole home is nearly open- the kitchen leads right into the living room, sparsely decorated and centered around a wood stove fireplace. A wooden, slotted staircase leads up to the open loft holding his bed, visible from the ground floor if you're standing at the right angle. The only closed doors lead to the bathroom or the front porch.

He sends Jesse a smile over his shoulder.]

Thanks. It's about the same size as where I was livin' before I came here, but I think it's got more style. Sorta like a vacation cabin. Only without the wood ducks and singin' trout on the wall.

[he delivers Jesse's drink before settling in an armchair clearly bought secondhand, rolling his own glass between his hands.]

Mostly glad I didn't have to share an apartment with a bunch of people I don't know. You ever have to do that here?

[hostage]

[Neat suits Jesse just fine, and he gives Sam a grateful nod as he accepts the glass. He takes a seat facing Sam, most of his attention still on the rest of the room as he sips his whiskey and admires it. There's something very appealing about a place like this. No room to feel empty and lonely.]

For a while, yeah. Nowadays I just... I move around a lot. Seems safer.

[shifting]

[he cocks his head at that.]

Safer? How's that?

[he doesn't know much about Jesse. Nothing, really, except that he heals and it hurts him every time he does it. And that, Sam's thought before, that says something about a person. Something about altruism, repentance, guilt, or masochism. Maybe a combination.

Who casually offers to be hurt, just so someone else can practice healing them?]

[hostage]

[Sam isn't wrong about him, though Jesse hates that kind of speculation. It gives people the strange idea that he's looking for redemption, which is a stupid concept if there ever was one.]

I was murdered last December. In my dorm room, over at the Xavier School. The guy who did it knew everything about me. Knew where my room was, knew when I'd come back there, waited for me and hit when nobody could save me. I don't wanna make it that easy for anybody ever again.