Relatively Normal


delia_icon.gif magnes_icon.gif sara_icon.gif tony_icon.gif

Scene Title Relatively Normal
Synopsis One cold afternoon on the edge of Long Island City unites four strangers in coincidence.
Date April 21, 2010

Long Island City

Outside of Coco's Boxing Gym

Tony wanders down the street, hands shoved in his pockets, and glancing around, as though trying to learn the place a bit more. He's clearly not one of the 'heads-down-keep-striding' types, who's a long term resident of the area.

Just a few feet behind Tony, is a young woman with red hair. She's got a woll hat pulled low over her brow and is blowing on her bare hands to keep them warm. The buttons on her navy blue peacoat at done all the way up to her fluffy scarf. It's a wonder how she forgot mittens dressed as she is.

Over her left shoulder a messenger bag is looped and it is stuffed, not full of anything with squared edges but lumps, like something soft. With her head low to the ground, she's not actually paying attention to where she's walking. It's a route she's followed time and time again so she feels no need. This time however, her walk is interrupted by a rather loud CONG as she almost trips straight over the blue mail box on the sidewalk.

It's hard to learn more about a place, about a city when the lion's share of it is buried under ten feet of snow. White blankets the cityscape as far as the eye can see in every direction and the wind that drives the snow is freezing enough to steal breath straight from the lips. Only a handful of cars brave the ice and snow-crusted streets and the rumble of a bulldozer coming down the four-lane road, plowing along a mountain of snow ahead of it is heralded by the flashing yellow emergency lights atop it.

Beneath the slate-gray skies and cottony clouds, the flickering neon sign of Coco's Boxing Gym is one of the few pieces of electronic signage still lit on the road. The yellow glow of lamps and house lights in the tenements above the gym shine out between the slats of drawn blinds, and where much of the rest of Long Island City's desolate industrial parkland seems dead, this establishment at least seems like a beacon of life.

Through ice frosted windows, there isn't as much activity for the business as there was months before this impossible storm hit. A few regulars just sit and converse on the exercise machines, using the gym as an excuse for trying ot maintain a normal daily life while the world itself slowly freezes around them.

A car passes by Tony on the street, tires slipping and skidding in the snow, engine struggling to make it through the mess. Across the street from where a young woman has collided with a post box, a yellow taxi is sitting backwards on the street, its rear end pushed into a snowbank, driver out and trying to push the vehicle from the frozen mess.

Tony turns at the clang. Okay, someone might have a bad conscience, to turn quite so smartly at that sort of noise. He removes the gloved hands from his pocket, claps them together, and advances to the fallen woman, "You okay there? Did you… uh… slip?" He takes in the mailbox, but thinks, 'Nah… that would never happen except in Chaplin movies'. He comes closer, asking again, "You alright?"

Rubbing her head, Delia looks up at the stranger and nods just slightly. "Uhh… yeah. Just kinda. It jumped out at me, y'know?" Her eyebrows furrow just a little as she ducks to the side to glare at the mailbox behind the man. "I didn't know New York made them mobile," her voice is low but if one were to listen carefully, they might be able to pick out the rather dry humor that she's trying to project.

The cab serves into the snowbank and a white puffy cloud of air whooshes out of the woman's mouth. "Whoah.." Then she's up on her feet, looking at Tony with somewhat of a smirk on her face, "Gonna see if he needs help too? You've got gloves on."

Tony glances over towards the cab, and then at the snowbank. "Uh… not unless he's offering a better deal than helping a lady in distress, you know?" He offers an arm to help Delia pull herself up, for stability. "I mean, it's gonna be a bitch to get that guy out of that. Need a spade, I reckon."

The door to Coco's gym opens a moment after Delia's comment, letting a darkly dressed woman out from the business. Bundled up in a dark blue wool coat with the collar raised to the back of her neck, the brunette dips her head down into an awkward nod as she steps around Tony and Delia, black watchman's cap pulled down over her hair and a gauze bandage on one of her cheeks. Boots crunch through the snow as she climbs up over a four foot high snow bank at the edge of the sidewalk then lands down on the street, hands tucked into her pockets.

Looking left and right as she jogs out across the road, it seems that whoever she is, she had the same idea about trying to help the cab driver. The wind picks up as she crosses the street, blowing snow from the drifts and snowbanks, off of roofs and the street itself, making it seem like a blizzard is in effect, when there''s no new snow falling at the moment.

When she gets to the other side of the street, the darkly dressed woman is conversing with the taxi driver, and the flustered looking old man is waving furiously at the back end of his car, one hand smoothing over the top of his head as he opens the back passenger-side door to the cab, leaning in and rummaging around while the woman turns to look back across the street.

"How very… Neighbourly of you." Delia utters as she takes Tony's hand and lets go after she's perfectly upright, not easy to do when you're in a pair of 3" wedges. She eyes the woman across the street and shrugs her shoulders, helplessly. Then she puts her hands in her pockets and hunches her shoulders to the wind as it picks up. "Maybe he'll give us a ride if we get him out? I don't know about you, but I'm not walking just because it's the healthy thing to do."

Starting across the street, the redhead weaves her way through the slowly trundling cars and finally makes it to the other side. "Hey guy, you need some help with that?" She's wearing her Captain Obvious hat today, because he looks like he needs just that. Then she unzips her messenger bag and pulls out a pair of rolled socks, which she fits over her hands to keep them warm. Turning, she beams at Tony and waves, "Come on Mister Knight! Let's give him a push!"

Tony groans, faintly, and then levers himself over the snowbank, "Hey! If I _wanted_ to do a hard days work, I'd do it somewhere bloody warmer than New York!" He does, however follow after the two women, "Hey there? You gonna give the lady and me a lift, if we get you out of that hole?"

"Ah— " the old cabbie offers a squinted look past the woman who'd come to help at Delia. "Yeah I ah, a'guess." There's something a bit sheepish about his demeanor, one gray brow lifted and eyes cast askance at the woman who'd offered to help, then a reluctant smile and a shrug of his shoulders. "Guess it takes a natural disaster for a New Yorker t'help out somebody, don't it?" The laugh the old man gives borders on little more than a snort, and when he reaches back into the cab, there's a small folding shovel brandished in one gloved hand.

At the sound of other voices, the heavily dressed brunette turns, green eyes checking Delia and then Tony with a squint. Tony's question is a marvelously forward-thinking one though, and when she turns to look back at the Cabbie the driver grunts out a laugh and nods his head.

"Can't be much faster'n walkin', but sure, sure…" The shovel's unfolded along the metal stock, snapped into place and extended to about two feet long, then offered out, though not directly to anyone. "Might not be much faster'n walkin' but I bet you it's a fuck less cold!"

The old man's demeanor earns a smirk from the brunette, and she looks to Delia and then Tony. "I'll help push," she offers, casting an askance look to the snowbank.

"Sir!" is suddenly called over to the cab driver, a voice that might be a bit familiar to Tony from their one meeting. Magnes J. Varlane. He spotted the cab from above, landed in an alley, and now he's running over to help. "My name's Magnes J. Varlane, and I saw you were having trouble. If it doesn't bother you, I could use my ability?" he offers, reaching into one of his many zipped up black jacket pockets lined over his sleeves, then holds out his registration card. Gravity Manipulation.

Other than the jacket, he's just got some blue jeans and black snow boots on, and his face is still quite bruised up, but not swollen.

With the socks fitted onto her hands, Delia looks like a one woman puppet show. She gives the old man a bright smile and an upward nod as she settles in behind the car. The messenger bag is flung to the side in a rather careless fashion as she drops down to the bumper, getting ready to push.

Then there's that word 'ability' and whatever happiness was on her face drops off like a dead rat from the back of a dump truck. Her eyes narrow and she stands slowly, looking from the cab driver to Tony, to the darkly dressed woman and then finally her eyes settle on Magnus. Clearing her throat, she strafes to the side and picks up her messenger bag.

Turning to the darkly dressed woman, she cants her head a little to look at the bandage a little better, "Since Mister Ability has the cab under control, do you want me to take a look at that? I work at a hospital…"

Tony looked to have been about to try and get something under the wheels, prior to starting to push, but then he too hears the words from Gravitonboy, and instead steps back. One glance at Delia makes him frown slightly, and move a step forward, as though to 'shield' her from the mutant menace (tm).

It takes a moment for the woman with the bandage to recognize Magnes, but there's no greeting when she does. The only answer is a too-long to be unintentional stare, then the crook of one corner of the woman's lips in a subtly wordless greeting to Magnes. The young man knows her, though only tangentally, from his time at the illegal fighting ring beneath Coco's. She's the organizer, Sara Claremont, and that bandaged mark on her cheek is likely a badge of honor from the fights.

"Hmm, what?" Green eyes flick distractedly to Delia, and Sara offers a furrow of her brows and then a lift of one hand to her cheek, feeling the gauze padding. "No it's— " she looks back to Magnes, then back to Delia again, "it's alright, thanks though." From what Delia can see in Sara's expression, she doesn't seem accustomed to strangers offering a helping hand, not in this part of the city, it's knocked her off-kilter.

"You got somethin' to melt this snow, son?" The Cabbie's seen plenty of action in his days, living in New York as long as he has, and it shows in how he brushes off the commentary about a power like it weren't nothing. "Yeah go on ahead fuck if I want to sit in this snow for too long and you people," you people, "might as well be useful, y'know?" He's not racist, he was 'just raised that way.'

The you people comment earns a look from Sara, brows furrowed, then a snort of breath that comes out as a puff of steam from her nostrils. "Actually, it's… I probably could use a look at it. If you're not charging," Sara emphasizes, one dark brow raised and a scrutinizing look slanted to Delia and her White Knight.

Magnes doesn't appear offended, simply offering a friendly smile, though he frowns a little at Delia's demeanor. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, that was unintentional." he offers to the woman, then slides his card back into his pocket. "Alright, everyone close your eyes!" he exclaims excitedly, suddenly raising both hands and sending all the snow in a ten foot radius around them into the air, in a large white plume. Of course it's mostly the loose snow, so no one goes falling into the ground, most of his focus was around the cab where the major problem seems to be.

Tony is met with a small, rather uncertain smile. "Looks like you just got scammed out of a free cab ride today. Maybe he'll share it with you?" She shivers just a little, because it's freakin' cold out and rubs her socked hands together. Her smile is back, just a bit more tentative.

Then she turns to the other woman and shakes her head, "No, no charge. I just — need — " Digging in her bag, she pulls out a small first aid kit, the kind insurance companies give out at conventions.

Of course it looks like the socks are about to eat the tiny supply kit, but she removes them. She's just about to reach forward to peek under the bandage when the warning comes and the snow flies up. Poor Delia, she really didn't take it seriously because the plume gave her a bit of a facewash. Sputtering, she brings one hand to her face and starts wiping the New York City street snow off her face. "Ugh… I thought you were going to move the car?"

Tony groans, as he suddenly becomes something of the 'Frosty the Snowman' from falling snow, "Stupid bloody country. Stupid bloody weather!" And then he turns to the women, "Shall we go into the gym, or somewhere? I'm bloody frozen!"

Sara and the cabbie both lift hands up to shield their eyes from the wind-flung snow, ice particles glittering in her lashes and showing up white on the dark blue of her coat and black of her knit cap. "Oh hell," the old cabbie grunts, looking to where the snow from the snowbank was moved out of the way by who knows what madness, brushing off the front of his jacket and wiping ice out of his beard. "Warn somebody a little more before you go an' play snowblower you ass!"

Sara arches a brow at the cabbie's clipped tone, and offers an askance look over to Delia, then Tony. "Thought you needed a ride somewhere?" There's a squaring of Sara's shoulders, a look back to Magnes as she runs her tongue across the inside of her cheek, then raises one brow and looks to Delia quizzically.

"Well…" The cabbie furrows his brows and exhales a sigh, "not fer nothin', thanks." Closing the rear door of the cab after tossing the collapsible shovel in, the moves ahead and closes the other door too. "Any'a yu folks actually need a ride somewhere?"

"Sorry, it's just simpler to move the snow than the thing stuck in it." Magnes answers with a slight shrug, stepping back a bit as he watches everyone. He has no where in particular to be at the moment, he's just here. He glances at Delia again, noting the red hair, then just sighs.

Using one of the socks she had so recently stuffed into her pocket as a facecloth (thank goodness they were clean), Delia wipes away the last bits of ice and snow from her face before turning to Magnes. "Uhh… Since no one else seems to be saying it. Thanks, you saved us from a lot of pushing." Her tone of voice isn't unfriendly it's just lacking any warmth. After the apology, she gives him a strained smile and turns back toward her pro-bono patient.

"Uhm, I was just going to head into the gym. I think I need a shower now though," she says sheepishly. With the kit still in one hand, she leans forward to examine Sara's now dirtied bandage and frowns. "You're going to need this changed anyway. You don't know what'll start growing on that as soon as it thaws out." This is New York City, the home of the most disgusting germs on Earth.

Very gingerly, she begins to peel back the gauze. As soon as it's free from the woman's face, she pulls an alcohol wipe from the kit and begins carefully cleaning around the area. "We should be doing this inside, but it's better than nothing… Here, take a few more of the wipes for later." The open kit is held toward Sara, there's about 3 left inside of it.

Offering a look of scrutiny to Magnes, Sara furrows her brows and then offers a cabbie a shrug. "Sorry pal, got some nursin' to do 'parently. Drive safe…" glancing askance at Tony who's distanced himself a bit from the digging out, Sara doesn't so much as offer a farewell to Magnes when she nods her head to Delia and checks both sides of the now empty street before starting to hustle her way across back to the gym. While Sara and Delia look to be headed inside, the cabbie shifts his weight to one foot and circles around the front of the cab, looking to Magnes.

"Thanks, a'guess," the Cabbie grumbles to Magnes reluctantly, "be a bit more careful next time though, yeah?" There's a grandfatherly tone there as the old man slouches down into the open driver's side door, then hesitates and looks up across furrowed brows to the young gravitokinetic. "Sure you don't need a ride anywhere, son?"

"I'll be fine, Sir!" Magnes says in his Respectful to Elders tone. He doesn't say 'he can fly', because that could potentially haunt the man for a few weeks untli he decides that his cabbie future is in danger and goes on a killing rampage, so he just offers a friendly smile and tries to catch Sara before she goes too far away. "Hey! You're from that boxing place, right? Do you train people?"

Tony grunts slightly, still hanging around, waiting on an answer, and then seeing the girls head back to the gym decides to tail after them. Well, why not? They're certainly the most scenic element of this part of town.

The cab driver is given a wave and a friendly smile as the redhead starts across the street. "Guess I won't be needing a ride today sir, thanks for the offer though. Be careful driving, weather sucks these days." Not that he doesn't know it much more than she does.

Following after Sara, Delia pauses just long enough to turn and wait for Magnes and Tony. Not seeming too bothered by the entourage. "Wow, you work here? I've been meaning to get a membership somewhere closer to home…" She glances at the sign as they enter the building.

"I own here," Sara notes a bit gruffly to Delia, looking over her shoulder to Magnes as she stops on the curb, one brow lifted. "I don't train anyone, but Carlos and Miguel do boxing and mixed-martial-arts instruction every other friday, but that shit isn't happening because of the weather. Come down if the world doesn't freeze over, we're not actually open right now, but some regulars and I kick around here since the place has a generator. My apartment doesn't have power but this place does. You're…" Sara eyes Magnes again, tilting her chin up before looking past him to Tony.

"Don't leave the door hanging open." Sara notes tersely as she moves off of the sidewalk and opens the door to the far warmer interior of the gym. Despite having a boxing ring in the middle, Coco's lacks a distinct stink of sweat and suffering that a place like this should, likely given how long it's been since it's been open for business. Coming through the doorway, a large — in both height and girth — gentleman who was seated on a bench press stands up and offers a nod to Sara. He's bundled up in winter clothing, making his way to the door, but waiting aside as everyone else is coming in.

"I'm goin' home, Sara. Gotta' go catch up with my parole officer too…" he notes with a furrow of his brows, "even when this city's frozen fuckin' solid there ain't any relief is there." The big man grumbles, offering a polite smile to Delia, Tony and Magnes on their way in.

"See you Oleander," Sara offers with a nod, pulling off her watchman's cap as she walks in further, treading snow across the carpeted floor. "So what the fuck were you all doing walking out in weather like this? It isn't exactly a scenic neighborhood."

"You're welcome, by the way." Magnes offers back at Delia, smiling, then returns his focus to Sara. "I'll be here, when this snow blows over. I wanna learn as much as I can about fighting." And judging by his face, he's certainly been doing some serious fighting. It might just be a coincidence that he's bruised up and a similar height to the masked guy the other day, who happened to thrust a guy across the ring with an invisible force at the end of the match.


He stretches walking toward the gym with his hands in his pockets. "I wouldn't mind being a regular, I could use a gym, since I don't think my lease allows punching bags hanging in the middle of my apartment." Sure, it's a triad place, but if he's just on their cover floor, maybe he won't get shot!

Tony rubs his hands together, and eventually produces them from out of his gloves. He stamps his feet. Yep, not a cold weather bird, our Tony. He glances around. "It's a nice place. Never been one for boxing. I guess I could do some weights, or something, but mostly doing a bit of this and that keeps me looking fit."

Once they're inside, Delia starts unwinding the scarf from around her neck with one hand. The heavy woolen thing must be at least twice as long as she is tall. After it's been tucked into her bag, she pulls her cap off and does the same with it. Her curly hair really doesn't do well under a hat because it's all frizzy on top and looking not so fabulous.

"Own it, really? Sweet nectar, that's pretty awesome." The kit is closed, but still held tightly in her hand and once they're in the main gym area she guides Sara to the first available seat.

The cheek is examined with great care and another wipe is used to clean up the area again. "Huh.. How long did you leave this? It's still bleeding." Then to Tony and Magnes, she gives a no nonsense look and waves the bit of sterile wipe around as she points. "I need the first aid kit here, probably some ice, a clean cloth…" Then she begins to dig further in her bag, "You got any crazy glue hanging around?"

"Thirty-five bucks a month for membership," Sara notes with a flinch as her bandage is peeled off, trying to retain some semblance of dignity while Delia looks over the cut on her cheek. "the lessons cost extra, you'll have to check with the boys about that once business is hopping again." Wincing, Sara offers green eyes in a quiet stare over to Tony, then sizes him up and down.

Something about the man's demeanor keeps earning Sara's scrutiny, but it's unvoiced scrutiny at least. "Last night," Sara belatedly explains to Delia, brows furrowing as she motions to a back door with one hand. "That's Doc's room, we got a little medical bay 'cause people get their shit knocked around a lot here. I dunno what half've the fucking medical supplies are for. But people get busted open, usually the Doc handles this shit, but he hasn't come in since the snow got bad."

Glancing back to Delia, Sara furrows her brows and seems a bit embarrassed about being tended to in this manner, a little too tough of a woman to be worried about little things like infections and proper treatment of injuries it seems. "C'mon, we can… I dunno, look for something."

"My upper body's a bit weaker than my lower body, boxing would be great to make up for that weakness." Magnes inadvertantly offers another clue, but he stands up to go look for supplies. "That doesn't sound bad for a membership, I don't play any MMOs, so I've got the cash to spare."

"Hmm.. Last night, might be too late for stitches. Hang here, I'll see what I can find." Delia straightens up and stretches out before sauntering toward the back room. On her way by, she gives Magnes a rather dubious look. It's rather obvious that she's not comfortable around him, either because of the embarrassing snowbeard she got or the fact that he's got an ability. Regardless, she leaves them alone for a good five minutes.

Watching Delia's departure, Sara doesn't notice the cling-chime of the door opening until Tony's already made his disappearance like Batman out onto the street. Brows raised and eyes cast to the front windows of the store, she barely catches sight of his silhouette behind ice crusted glass. When the door is blown shut from the wind, Sara looks back to Magnes, one brow raised. "You look like somebody got angry at a package of hamburger, kid."

There's a furrow of Sara's brows at that, her voice kept down now that Delia's gone. "Get a membership, keep it paid, work out and take some lessons. Then maybe next time you won;t wind up getting hauled out by your ankles." There's a conspiratorial tone to Sara's voice, brows furrowed together as she tilts her head to the side, assessing the healing injuries.

"I didn't fall down stairs either," Sara notes sarcastically, eyes darting to the medical room door afterward.

"I, uh, yeah. I've been doing everything I can to be a better fighter, so I can protect people. Having an ability helps, but… it's not a sure thing, I might not always have it, or be able to use it, y'know? I need to be able to fight on my own merit, my ability should just be there to enhance it." Magnes explains, watching as Dalia walks off with a sigh. "I don't think she likes me. I always make a bad impression with the ridiculously cute girls."

A few minutes after going into the back room, Delia emerges with a white box that's overloaded with supplies. "My god, it's a gold mine in that place. Like somebody robbed a medical supply shipment destined for some third world country!" The redhead is actually excited about the contents of the box and she breezes past Magnes again on her way to the rather unwilling Sara.

"Okay, this is going to sting like a bitch but seeing as you own this place, I probably don't have to tell you to suck it up." She begins to pinch the two bits of skin together, "Well whatever you did to it, I don't think I can stitch it up now. I can clean it and butterfly bandage it back together but you're going to have to be really careful." Then a cursory glance is thrown in Magnes' direction and she curls her upper lip a little and sighs. "You, take a seat too. You look like you already had a few lessons without a helmet or something."

Hissing and wincing, Sara feels admittedly embarrassed by how she treats the manhandling of her injur. Back tensed and eyes looking away to the other side of the room, the brunette keeps flinching as Delia tends to the injury on her cheek. "Thanks…" she admits in a gruff tone of voice, "I— It's been a pain in the ass since Doc's been gone. I got a guy here on the weekends but I think he runs a butcher shop on his off days, if you get my drift."

"Name's Sara, by the way…" The owner finally introduces herself, while she's got fingers pinching at her cheek and strangers in her shop. "Sara Claremont. I— appreciate the help, Doc." It seems now Delia's earned the honorary title of 'Doc' from the taciturn gym owner. "Kid over there tried to get into a fight with a flight of stairs, I think. You should see how the stairs look."

"They're just bruises, and um, it's not just my face… it's pretty much my entire body." Magnes admits, taking a seat near them anyway. If his entire body is as bruised as his face, it's a wonder he's still walking, but that's all a part of his training. "Here, if you don't believe me." He undoes his jacket, laying it on the back of his seat to reveal his long-sleeved white shirt with plain gray letters on the front that say 'Existentialism', then peels that off to join his jacket. For a geeky guy, he's pretty well built these days, but he's definitely in bad shape damage-wise.

He's got bandages around the upper part of his left arm, and patched to the left side of his ribs, and a lot of the unbandaged portion of his body is just littered in bruises, like he's grown his own spots. His back just has one long bruise. If Sara can read anything into that, she can practically see the fight he had with Ash mapped on his body. "The bandages aren't for the bruises, they're burns from when I saved those people from the fire."

"Delia Ryans," the redhead says in introduction as she finishes carefully taping together the gym owner's face. "You just have someone on the weekends? In a place like this?" The young woman seems just a little incredulous at the thought. "I hope you have a hospital nearby…"

A pair of bright blue eyes avert from Sara's face and are glued to Magnes' body as he begins stripping. While it may seem to some that her examination has all the qualities of someone at a meat market… They just might be right. If they were talking about horse flesh. "You went to the hospital for that, right? You've been there?" She's up again and circling him as her eyes rove over each of the bruises. "Man, you're like… a medical student's dream come true. Or a coroner's."

"Business is closed otherwise," Sara notes with a touch of fingers up to her cheek, and now that Delia has her attention on Magnes, the gym owner scrutinizes the pair, then lifts a brow. "You know, once the weather clears up… if you're looking for work we could use a nurse here, if you've got the credentials. It'd be a step up from the cutter we had working for us, but if he doesn't turn up after the snow melts… you seem to know what you're doing."

Eyeing Magnes, Sara cracks a smile, shaking her head slowly. "So what exactly is that trick you do?" Sara asks rather bluntly, chin tilting up and arms crossing over her chest. "Something tells me it ain't just moving snow." There's a lift of one thin brow, and Sara squints at Magnes, keeping him as her focus.

Magnes' cheeks go a bit red, not exactly used to being stared at, but he clears his throat and manages to answer. "I had someone do first aid on me, and I went to the hospital for the burns, then again when I got the bruises to see if anything was broken. It's just lots of bruising, I'll be fine after a while, worse has happened to me."

He pauses a little awkwardly, and asks, "Um, what was your name again? Mine's Magnes J. Varlane." His head turns when Sara asks about his ability, appearing more than willing to answer. "It's gravity manipulation."

With a grunt, Delia back off from the half naked guy and starts methodically wiping her hands off with one of the extra wipes she procured from the back room. "Uh.. Delia Ryans," she's still not overly friendly with the gravitron after the examination. Then she turns her back on him, indicating that she is also a little uncomfortable with his state of dress.

Once her hands are clean she digs in the kit again and pulls out some gauze. "I have a job already… I mean it's not great, but it pays good. I can help out a little during the week though and on the weekends, for a membership." She pauses long enough to guage Sara's reaction to the bargain before continuing. "Okay, unless you're showering, don't cover it up. You don't want to get those bandages wet or else they'll come off but he open air will help you heal a lot better than keep it covered up."

Then she darts her eyes to the floor and looks at Magnes' shoes, "You too, once those burns scab over.. You should let them breathe so they heal faster."

"Deal." Sara notes with a smirk, "you've got yourself a membership, Doc." One brow lifted, the proprieter of the boxing gym shifts her weight to one foot, then offers a glance over to Magnes. "Glad you were straightforward with me too, lotta' people bullshit about what they can do, or try to play it off like they're normal. Ain't every day I hear somebody who isn't talking out've the side'a their mouth, you know?" Kicking onebrow up, Sara moves over to the bench press that Oleander had been sitting on when they got here, settlign down onto the padded seat and resting her arms over her knees.

"I appreciate the help, Doc. You go around just— fixing people up on a whime like this all the time?" One of Sara's brows stays lifted in that quizical manner. "Or is this just unusual niceness, 'cause— there's a lotta' people in a city like this that'd take good advantage of a girl like you doin' nice things for bad people." Sara shrugs, eyes cast down tot he floor. "Not saying m'bad, 'course, just…" she dithers, "saying…"

"She's right, there are a lot of people who'd take advantage of a nice person like you. And on that note, stay very far away from John Logan." Magnes shakes his head, because if Logan had this girl stripping somehow, there would be all sorts of hell to pay. "I try to be honest, I don't see the point in lying, and I'm on the news or in a paper like every other week."

He nods at Delia's instructions, and starts pulling his shirt back on, but continues talking from inside of it. "Um, Delia, did I do something wrong? I figured I should just ask. I feel like I made a terrible impression or something."

"No, not you unless your name is Sylar," Delia's voice hitches and she just breathes the name like she was a Harry Potter character talking about Voldemort or something of that magnatude. Turning away from both of them, she begins to repack the case and stays quiet for a few minutes until the plastic tabs are snapped shut.

"But yeah… If I want to take the Hippocratic Oath one day, I can't be a hypocrite about it. If someone looks like they need help, I'm going to try to take care of them, whether they're — normal — or not." She clears her throat again and turns to look at the pair. Tucking a few lengths of curly hair behind one of her ears, it becomes quite clear that they're not exactly the same color as the rest of her head. Not right now at least. "Thanks for the warning, I'll make sure and tell my sister… I'm pretty sure she'll be walking a street corner one of these days or something." There's a wry smile that appears on her lips as she tries to make the joke at the poor absent woman's expense.

"Took care've me just fine," Sara notes with a smirk, "I'm not normal either," the brunette admits with a sharply teasing tone. "Just goes to show you can't ever tell what somebody is just by lookin' at 'em you know?" Sara's head inclines to the side, and she sits up straight, hands folding in her lap as she looks from Magnes to Delia. "I take it that means you're the one who's normal out've this bunch?"

At that, though, Sara scoffs slightly, "as normal as a bleeding heart doc can be, I guess." Good natured ribbing aside, Sara flicks a look between Magnes and Delia. "Just be careful who you call normal and who you call abnormal, 'cause some of us freaks don't let water roll off their old stone as easily as others."

Magnes doesn't comment on Sylar, god knows she could hate him for any number of reasons, and he's sure as hell not willing to guess. "I don't think I've ever been discriminated against by a pretty girl, but I don't mind. I mean, there's lots of reasons to be uncomfortable with Evolved. I've experienced time travel, so I pretty much know anything is possible. Just… remember that I'm not one of the bad guys or anything, I would and have put my life on the line for a stranger. Who's to say I deserve to live longer than anyone else, if it's within my power to save a life?"

Delia begins chewing on her lip as she eyes the pair. "I guess I am the abnormal one of the bunch, since the two of you are.. evolved." She's rather tense, after finding out that she's the short straw of the bunch it leaves her a little on edge. Raising a hand, she rubs the back of her neck to loosen the muscles there and gives Magnes a small shrug. "I don't want to — I mean, I dunno."

Slumping down in Sara's freshly empty seat, she hunches down and rubs her face in both of her hands. "It's tough, you know? This is New York, it was dangerous enough before. Now you have to worry about your family never coming home."

"Had to before too, guess you never lived much on the streets did you? The danger's just come up out've the underground is all, this place was a shit-hole before the bomb, that exploision just scared all the rats out of hiding, trust me. I grew up watching my father scrape together every penny he had to pay back mob debts, and you know what good that got him?" Sara's brow quirks again, "Nothing, he died before he could pay'm all off. Bomb probably was the most blissful thing that could've happened to'm."

Pushing herself up to stand, Sara brushes her hands over the back of her jeans, looking back and forth between Magnes and Delia. "People're just as bad as anything else, doesn't take a special power to make someone a piece of shit, sometimes it just makes 'em a bigger one." Nodding to the door with a jerk of her head, Sara starts walking past Delia and Magnes in the opposite direction of that nod.

"Go on, scram. I've got stuff to do and the meet and greet's over. Come back when the storm clears and we'll talk about business." Wringing her hands together, the taciturn owner of the gym turns, looking at Delia with a furrow of her brows. "Thanks, though for… patching me up, Doc."

"I've been on my own since the explosion too, didn't know for sure what happened to my parents until very recently. Actually, even now I'm not completely sure, but at least I know they're alive." Magnes isn't entirely sure what to say to all of this, beginning to pull his jacket back on. "But I know it's tough, I know it's scary and dangerous, even with an ability it is, maybe even more so. Every day, just being myself means someone might try to kill me, just for being me. I've been shot four or five times, most of those by Humanis First. But Evolved have hurt me too, in a lot of ways, and… I just can't see it in black and white."

He holds two hands up, first raising his left. "There's good people." and then he raises his right. "And there's bad people. That's how I have to see it, that's how everyone has to see it, or they'll go insane with fear and anger. That's why so many of these groups exist, both extreme pro and anti-Evolved groups."

He stands up now, zipping his jacket and heading over to her, giving Sara a brief nod of agreement. "Dalia, could I take you to go get coffee or something?" It doesn't count as breaking his vow of swearing off women, it's just coffee!

As they're being shooed out the door, Delia starts winding her giant scarf around her neck. After it's situated her peacoat gets pulled over her long sleeved shirt and buttoned up. "Yeah… if the weather clears up." She has half a mind to ask more questions, her eyes slide in Magnes' direction and she shrugs her shoulders. "I dunno, Magnes J. Varlane, raincheck maybe? I'll probably have eleventy kajillion questions to ask, so I kind of want to run through them on my own first."

Finally, she's all bundled up, socks on hands, and messenger bag tossed over her shoulder. "Thanks for letting me warm up, it's a bit cold outside, you know?" She gives a weak smile to both of them but at least she's walking beside Magnes and not ten feet in front of him. "I guess evolved people are like abortions… you can't be pro or con without hurting someone."

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