Owner	Pose
Mystique	Cynthia has already finished her home work, as stated many times it's all too easy for her anyway. She sits now on the couch, PS4 controller in hand, attempting to murderer denizens of evil in some video game, and not doing very well at it. She doesn't seem to care that she sucks, she's practicing to get one up on Pete for when he visits.
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice has been out - checking in on the Bushwick patrols, making sure Dyani was doing alright at Happy Harbor, and trying to arrange things for the mentor program. Now she appears in her room with a quiet 'blink' - making her way towards the living room in her and Cynthia's little apartment, a small takeout bag in her hand. The door slides open and she watches her sister in silence for a few moments - waiting until she hears the sound of Cynthia's video game personna falling in a bloody heap before she makes her way over. "Hey," she greets Cynthia quietly. She opens her bag, pulling out a little to-go clamshell container which contains two sweets of an unappealing dark brown hue. Yes, Clarice stopped by in Barbados to pick up two 'black bitch' sweets.     "Did mom and dad ever give you blackies?" she asks, picking up one of the sticky coconut and mollasses sweets to nibble at it.
Mystique	Cynthia's character dies for the thousandth time, which still doesn't seem to bug her at all. She had heard the door open but needed to finish that over dramatic death... well that wasn't the plan, but it is what ended up happening. Watching Clarice sit down and open the containers, she eyes what's inside, "Uh, no... not that I remember."
Clarice Ferguson	"It's from Barbados," Clarice explains simply. "It's- there was a picture of me eating it in the album. I barely remember it - maybe it wasn't something we ever had after we moved?" she says in an uncertain voice.     Which of course would explain why Cynthia hasn't had it at all.     "It's mostly coconut. It's good," she says encouragingly, giving Cynthia a smile. "But if you don't want it, I'll eat them both." She seems content enough to continue nibbling at the sweet slowly, as she tries to figure out if she really //remembers// the taste or not. I mean - it isn't bad, that's for sure.
Mystique	Cynthia is never one to turn down food, even if it doesn't look appealing. The problem with the curry was the eggplant, this however smells good and has no egg plant. "Oh no, I'll try it," she says quickly, reaching over to take one of the containers. "I love coconut." Turning the container around, she looks for the best way to approach the treat, then sniffs at it a little. "It smells similar to something I've had before, but it never looked like this." Finally she just picks it up and takes a bite.
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice is happy to just sit in silence enjoying the treat for a while - continuing to take small bites as she considers the treat, and not seeming to mind in the least if this means her fingers get a bit sticky. "What did you have that was similar?" she asks curiously, glancing aside at her sister.
Mystique	Cynthia chews and enjoys, because this is something really good and she's glad she decided to try it. When her mouth is finally empty, which is two bites later, she says, "They were something like macaroons, but sticker... I don't really remember. Mom made them." The teen has already pointed out that their mother was not a cook, so it may be possible that the woman was trying to make Black Bitch, and failed, but Cynthia ate it anyway.
Clarice Ferguson	"She probably messed up the recipe, huh?" Clarice remarks, flashing Cynthia a brief smile, before letting the expression fade a little.     "Cynthia..." she says quietly. "I- I mean, I know I said it the other night. But if you're feeling sad, or you want to talk to me about something or- well, whatever, you can. I really don't want you to feel like you have to hide things from me, or- or walk around on pins and needles to avoid setting me off, or anything like that. It's okay to miss them, and to miss anyone else you lost."
Mystique	The teen stares at the treat, before she says, "She messed it up big time." Slowly Cynthia looks over at Clarice, chewing on her bottom lip. "Yeah..." she says quietly. "It's... you're allowed to be upset too, I just... I haven't really handled losing mom and dad. Because of the time I don't remember, it's been shorter to me and I..." she sighs and looks back at the treat. "It repeats over and over in my head, when I think about it, what happened to them... so I don't think about it. I'm just trying to move on, like I know they'd want me to do. They wouldn't want me to lost in grief and guilt, they'd want me to accept that shit happens, people die and make a life for myself." Now she rests the treat in her lap, and chances a side glance at Clarice, "That's what they'd want for you too Clarice. If they wanted it for me, you can bet they'd want it for you."
Clarice Ferguson	"I know," Clarice agrees. "And I'm trying to do that. And I have you, and Rahne, and so many other people who love me - I'm fortunate." She takes a deep breath in, and lets it out slowly before she adds, "But it still hurts. It hurts to know I could have known you six years sooner. That mom and dad could have known I was alive, and I could have gotten to know them again. That- that I could have saved you all from what happened that day. It hurts," she says quietly.     She picks at some of the coconut in what remains of her treat, a couple tears streaking down her cheeks as she adds, "I look at that album, and I'm so glad to have it, but I- I just want my murr, and my faddah," she murmurs, slipping into Bajan for a moment.
Mystique	Another bite of the treat is taken before Cynthia offers the remainder of it to Clarice, not because she doesn't want it but because it's her nature to share, and perhaps a little as a peace offering over what happened before. "Mom always said that what happens in life makes us who we are," she says softly, still chewing at her bottom lip a little. "That if we wish away the bad things that make us stronger, we'd all be weak. I never really understood that until now. I wish you could have known them Clarice, I really do. I can't make it better, and I know it, but it wasn't all roses with them." A soft sigh escapes and she looks back at her dead character and the flashing words, 'YOU DIED'. "They were so afraid that I would get taken away that I lived my entire life hiding what I was. Mom would dye my hair every week and I could never wear it up, it had to stay down to cover my ears. I wore contacts to cover my eyes, which means I had to be careful all the time. My skin at last was brown then, not like it is now... but still, I know what you mean, I know what you'll say... I may have had to fake my life, but at least they were there. Right?"
Clarice Ferguson	"I'm sure it wasn't perfect. I bet you screamed at each other sometimes," Clarice agrees, flashing Cynthia a small, tight smile. "We can't change it, and I'm doing my best to move forward, and start a new life - for both of us. But sometimes I-" One hand goes to her chest. "It aches so much I feel like I can't breathe. Like it would be easier to just go back to what I was before." When all she felt was numb.     "I won't do that, though," she promises Cynthia, then gives her a nudge with her shoulder. "You finish yours. I can always pop over to Barbados to pick us up more another time. Or maybe I'll bring us back the- I don't know what it's called anymore. The little leaf-wrapped cakes... I'll find someone who can tell me." She hopes.
Mystique	Pulling the treat back, Cynthia looks at it for a moment, then finally takes another bite. She understand that ache, she'd lived it for nearly eight months now. Waking up in a strange place, six months after the attack, to be told what the end result was and remembering seeing her parents killed? Yeah, she ached, but she also tried to find a way to get over it. Perhaps she tried too hard and skipped a few stages of grief, but she thought she had been doing pretty good for a teenager with no family. "Conkies?" she asks, about the lead wrapped cakes. "I know what you mean, about the ache and not breathing. I also know that they want people like us to see therapists and talk out all our feelings, but I don't think that would help."
Clarice Ferguson	"CONKIES!" Clarice exclaims, her expression suddenly brightening. For a moment at least. "Conkies. I'll bring us conkies next time," she promises," flashing her sister a smile, glad she knows at least a few foods from Barbados. Even if their mother had been a terrible cook.     "Well. If you need to cry... it's okay. If you need to join me in //my// bed, it's fine. If you do want to talk about any of it... you can." She looks aside at her sister with a sad smile. "Whatever you need. I mean, we are moving on, yeah? Getting to know each other. Getting you into a new school. Making new friends, new family. I think... we don't have to be happy //all// the time. We're allowed to hurt."     She looks down at the remains of her black bitch, her expression going thoughtful. "I planted the fennel because of what I remembered about dad. Maybe we need to do something together... Plant a flower bush for them in the garden? Or put a plaque for them in the garden, or on Genosha. Or... I don't know. Throw flowers into the sea. Maybe it would help, somehow, to do something to- to remember them. And to say goodbye together. Do you think so? I mean- it's okay if you don't think so."
Mystique	Cynthia giggles at Clarice's reaction. It was the one and only thing she could think they would be. "Dad used to make those," she explains. "I /love/ them, and he did it right." Now she will deal with the other part of what was said. In her heart, she knew it was a good idea, to actually say good-bye, even if there was no grave. "I..." she pauses. "I want to play something, a tree or bush or something... where it happened," she says quietly, because inspite of all the changes, she knew the spot, the exact spot. "Then I think... maybe, even if we don't... headstones, to honor them... some place."
Clarice Ferguson	"He did?" Clarice asks quietly. There's a longing there. ...she wants to try her dad's conkies. Did he make the conkies she used to eat? Probably. So she has had them before...     "Okay. I think we can do all that. I mean, I can bring the piano down - or you can. Do you know what kinds of flowers or plants they liked?" And there would have to be some way to mark the flowers, and the little memorial, so it didn't get built over. She's should have enough influence to make sure that didn't happen. "Would you want to put the headstones there - in that spot?" she asks.     "Maybe it could be some sort of plant from Barbados," she muses. "As long as it isn't too invasive."
Mystique	Cynthia closes her eyes a moment, trying to remember the name of the flowers her mother grew in the backyard. They looks like fire, with big petals and tendrils reaching out from the center of the flower. "I'm trying to remember," she whispers, reaching her hand out as if to touch something. "Cynthia Ferguson don't you touch my.." she says in a different voice, like someone scolding then she blurts out, "Pride of Barbados! That's the flower!" Opening her eyes she looks over at Clarice, "That is what we need to plant. We can just put a plaque or something, if you want, headstones might be in someone's back yard some day, or maybe we could see if we could make a memorial park... I know there's still nothing there, I've... been there."
Clarice Ferguson	"I'm pretty sure we can get it zoned to be a memorial park," Clarice agrees, flashing Cynthia a smile. "The Pride of Barbados," she muses quietly. "I'll ask Bruin to look into the plant for us? I mean... I know some plants do better if they're planted at certain times, but... He could probably fix that for us, if it's a problem."     Is it silly that even talking about planning something like this... does make it feel lighter? Was it really this easy? "We'll plant the flowers, put in a plaque, you can play your music... and we can eat some conkies?" she suggest. "Just you and me, or...?"
Mystique	Cynthia glances over to the piano for a moment, then looks back to Clarice. "When we grieve, we can't grieve alone. That's what dad always said. Maybe..." she pauses there, considering. "Maybe we should make it a wake... have food, invite people to come and see the plants, and hear me play... can you really get a park created? I met Bruin, he's really shy and ran at first, but I started talking about plants and he perked right up. Did you know that plants each have their own voice, and if you sing in their voice, they grow faster?"
Clarice Ferguson	"I didn't know that," Clarice admits. "I haven't really talked to Bruin that much, myself, I guess." She finally finishes off her black bitch before remarking, "Well, we should probably invite Lydia and Pete at least. Though - I know. Pete's shy too. If I invited Lorna, she'd probably want to be there for us..." she remarks, glancing aside at Cynthia to see how she feels about that. "I mean, and Rahne would be glad to come, of course..." Then with a shrug she adds, "I try not to take too much advantage of the fact that I know Lorna and Magneto, but... Yeah. I think we could get the land dedicated as a park. And we won't be the only ones who need a place to mourn, and remember. Who might want to plant something, or put in a plaque, or... you know. Whatever. Maybe we could have a small park set aside in each neighborhood, where people can make their memorials."
Mystique	Turning on the couch as she takes the last bite of her black bitch, Cynthia's face suddenly lights up, as if she has something important to say but she is chewing. Faster chewing, then swallow. "If we find out some other flowers and trees and plants that people liked, who passed away, we could put them in as well, and fill the area with memories for all those who were lost. A place to go and see beauty and remember. What do you think? Would that be too much? It's probably too much, but it would be really cool. We aren't the only one's hurting because they lost someone that day, and I know there will be huge memorials and such eventually, but... flowers are pretty, memorials are cold and stoney, or metal."
Clarice Ferguson	"I- well, I'm not sure how to find out who all was lost, where, and what flowers they lost..." Clarice says dubiously. "But if we did have little memorial parks we could encourage people to come plant. Maybe make a national day of mourning. Plan ahead so we can get the plants people need. I mean, it'd be a big endeavor, but... Something like that could be possible," she suggests. "We - or I - could talk to Lorna about it. Whichever."
Mystique	Cynthia picks up Clarice's hand, sticky hand to sticky hand, but the black bitch was worth it. "We can talk to her," she says with confidence. "And maybe this time I won't pop out a Playboy in front of my Queen." She grins, clearly able to joke about that now. "I like your idea, of having people come and plant their own plants for those they've lost. The whole nation needs to heal, we've been in this sort of haze since the attack, even with the rebuilding, it's time to push through the haze to other side, and you and I can be the catalyst to make that happen, and maybe... just maybe, something good will come from all this."
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice squeezes her sister's hand as she admits, "Honestly? I feel a little better already," she admits. "And I really like learning these little things. Like... that dad could make conkies, and that mom didn't want you to touch her Pride of Barbados. It's not the same thing... as getting to see them. As letting them know I survived, but it helps, and I like it."     She leans in against Cynthia's shoulder as she adds, "I know I've said it before, but I love you Cynthia. And we're going to be okay. Even if you do end up yelling at me sometimes, yeah?"
Mystique	Cynthia scoots herself over to lean against Clarice, just being close, that's all it was. "I wanted to poke the little tendrils, but that's where the pollen was, and the bees needed to do their thing, my poking interfered. I was like five I think," she giggles. "I'd try to sneak out and poke and mom would /always/ catch me. I learned how later of course, because you see... sliding glass doors with tinting on one side so you can't see in, didn't mean you couldn't see out." Resting her head against Clarice's she says softly, "I love you too Clare, and of course we'll be alright, we have each other. We're supposed to fight, and argue, and throw things, but at the end of the day, hug each other and make up."
Clarice Ferguson	"Yeah, well, only if our biggest sister can talk us down off the ledge," Clarice remarks with dry amusement.     She tried not to think about the fact that Lydia was away now, of course, on her little trip. Alone, without any backup... Ugh. She didn't feel any better about it than Mystique did, really.     "Do you want to kick my ass at this video game?" she suggests. "...how do we play?"
Mystique	Cynthia snerks. "Biggest sister put her calm on, and chilled us out, for the most part, and for how to play... honestly, I have no idea, that's why I'm dead." She points at the screen still displaying 'YOU DIED'. "For the thousandth time. I'm still learning, but we can learn together."
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice is silent for a moment before she'll admit, "I had to shut myself down," she admits in a quiet voice. "A little like I used to be. In the pens. Bottle it up. Numb yourself, so you don't feel. I- I don't really know how to explain it all. I don't- it's something I try not to do too often, anymore. But sometimes it's useful." When you just need to get through something painful.     "But yeah. We can figure out the game together," she agrees. "I'm sure you'll do better than me. I haven't really playever video games much at all."
Mystique	Cynthia offers her the other controller as she says, "I do that. It's how I help Pete, because I can just not feel whatever it is that is trying to make me want to kill myself. I turn it all off and when he connects to me, it just turns him off. I guess you could say I put my own emotions in the pocket so he can use that to not feel everything so profoundly." Using her controller she resets it back to the start of the game, and let's Clarice pick her character first. "I only do it for that now though, because Kelly says you need to /feel/ to /heal/."
Clarice Ferguson	"But sometimes feeling gets in the way of what needs to get done." Like finishing a job - or hugging your sister when she's in pain. "Anyways, like I said, I try not to use it either. And it's not quite the same as it was in the Pens. I was drugged. I //couldn't// really feel. Not much anyways. Sometimes I was aware of emotions, but they always felt removed. Distant. Like they really belonged to someone else," Clarice explains.     As she talks the flips through the character choices, remarking, "None of these are purple. They have a bias against purple people. That's bullshit." She picks one almost at random.
Mystique	Cynthia picks the next random one, really they're all the same, it's about the equipment that makes them special. "It's not right what they did," she whispers, looking at the controller a moment. "It's not right they took you away." Clearing her throat she looks back up at Clarice. "Emotions always get in the way, sometimes you have to turn them off to get through something. Like gymnastics, in front of a room of people all judging you. You just turn them off and do what you have to do, /then/ you can panic and wait for the answers. Kelly said it's a skill not everyone has, something about military people being trained for years to do it, but it just happens. I can literally just pocket the emotions and feel nothing when I need to." Looking to the screen, she snorts, "Yeah, no purple or green, their all just boring normal humans. Unless you go with the alien chick, but honestly, are there boobs that size anywhere in the real world?"
Clarice Ferguson	"Of course it was wrong," Clarice agrees. "Everything about it was wrong." She glances aside at Cynthia for a moment before adding, "I know you said you didn't want to ask questions I don't want to answer, but... I don't really know whaat to say about that part of my life. If there's something you're wondering - you really //can// ask. It's okaym" she promises.     She continues on to add, "You know, somewhere, there's an alternate reality where mom and dad stayed in Barbados and we grew up there - together," Clarice admits quietly. "And we fight, and argue, and scream at mom and dad - but we're all there. We're all together." She smirks as she adds, "No one does. Ugh, men and their boob obsession, you know?"
Mystique	That comment about alternate realities makes Cynthia blink a few times and look back at Clarice. "Did you just say alternate realities? I didn't think those had been scientifically proven," she comments. "Unless of course, they just haven't said anything out of fear of humans freaking out... again." She thinks about it a moment and smiles, "I'll bet in this alternate reality, I steal your clothes a lot." Looking back to the screen she shifts it so Clarice can start picking out her characters equipment, armor, weapons, etc. "I have a boob obsession," she giggles, then clears her throat again then asks out of the blue, "How many people did you kill?"
Clarice Ferguson	"I know someone who used to travel between realities. She's stuck here now, even though this isn't her home. She used to travel with a different version of me, who also was taken from her family, and raised by Mister Creed," Clarice admits. "But somewhere... I know there's a reality where none of that happened. We'll never see that world ourselves, and they'll never know how lucky they are, but it's out there. And somewhere there's realities where we never find each other, or where Magneto never freed Genosha, or the like. So... well. So I guess we should be glad for how lucky //we// are."     Clarice picks equipment and armor at random - mostly based on what looks neat to her, as she answers Cynthia's question in a silent voice. "I'm not entirely sure, really. I assume you mean for the Magistrates. I- they started by having me practice on inanimate objects. And then animals. And then finally prisoners - to ensure I'd follow orders, and understood human anatomy, and could do the job. They started with them restrained, but after a while they were freed, and being chased by dogs and the like to make sure I could hit moving targets accurately." Clarice's voice is rather matter-of-fact as she talks. She wasn't proud of these things - but she'd never had a chance to do anything but comply.     "I think I was about seven when I first killed a person. It's hard to judge time sometimes. To know what age I was when something happened.     "If you mean how many missions did I complete... A few dozen? I was sent after discedents. Conscience objectors. Anyone foreign or domestic who the government thought was a threat to their power..."
Mystique	Cynthia also chooses based on looks, because reading about all the things the stuff can do would take too long, far better to look good while fighting and dying, repeatedly. She listens to Clarice while she picks through to find just the right look for her character, some random dude she is putting in all leathers cause why not? "Well," she says slowly. "I'm proud of you. For being able to survive all that, and come out the other side. For turning what they taught you to do into something useful, because there are people out there who deserve to die, some more so than others, and some more slowly than others."
Clarice Ferguson	"Slowly is what Mister Creed does," Clarice murmurs quietly. "Sometimes. Not me. Death is death. Gone is gone. They're not here to cause anymore harm, that's what matters. What I do is usually pretty swift. I- I can remove a head, or a heart, or slice someone cleanly in half... None of those leaves you alive for long." She picks a long, dramatic coat for her character, with some guns, and a sword at her hip, and a rather dramatic hat. She seems happy with all of that.
Mystique	The game is all about killing evil bad guys, that are clearly evil because they are all creepy looking, like some kind of alien. Clearly the male creators of this game didn't talk to any real aliens when making it, or any real women for that matter, but that's the point. Shoot then, stab them, whatever it takes to kill them and save the innocent civilians who can't defend themselves. "Good," Cynthia says bluntly as she starts the game and their characters appear in the center of a 'safe zone', a timer counting down from 15 when the enemies will start to appear. "I suppose dead is dead, and that's the best way to go about it. I mean, Uncle Creed strikes me as the sort who might enjoy playing with his victims, you know, chasing them down, making them think they got away then pouncing them... but that's probably the over all cat theme he has going on."
Clarice Ferguson	"Sometimes, but not always, he likes to make things go... slowly," Clarice admits. "He keeps one alive so he can ntake his time with them. I usually go outside and have a drink, and leave him do it." Yes, she's talking casually about how her 'father' enjoys torturing people to death - but Cynthia was the one who brought it up. As she's talking, she tries mashing some of the buttons. Okay, that one jumps, this one fires the gun, that one opens her inventory... Okay. She thinks she's got this? Maybe?     "You now, given what I do for a living sometimes - I don't entirely understand the point of killing people in a video game," she remarks - just as the timer hits zero, and she opens fire.
Mystique	Cynthia doesn't seem to have any issues with this. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wonders why that is, why this sort of casual talk about death doesn't bother her at all. Taking a moment to think on it, she decides it's because she lives in a world with mutants and aliens, where people are violent against one another as a way of life, and death is just a part of it. "Yeah, this might not be the best hobby for you," she comments, then promptly turns and shoots Clarice's character. "Since you do the real thing." And she starts laughing, because that was all she was planning to do all along.
Clarice Ferguson	"TRAITOR!" Clarice cries - but there's laughter in her voice. "I thought were supposed to be working together?!" She turns to try to shoot Cynthia - somehow falling into a forward roll. She's not even sure how she //did// that. It probably helps her dodge a few bullets before Cynthia readjusts - and kills her. She lets out an exagerated sigh.     "So not my game."
Mystique	Cynthia now laughing so hard that she's not even able to successfully move the character or do anything, so the enemy just moves in and kills her. The screen flashes, "YOU DIED" again which makes her laugh even harder. Honestly she didn't think Clarice would even play the game, or get as far into it as she did, but that she did get to the starting point... the teenager just could not resist it. "I'm so... sorry," she laughs, having tipped over to hold her sides. "I... couldn't... resist." She has to wipe her eyes off, looking up from her helpless laughing position. "Not your game..." she adds, starting to collect herself. "Maybe go fish?"
Clarice Ferguson	"You're the worst, and I will have my revenge," Clarice answers - but she's smiling - and she laughs a little, just not as much as Cynthia.     At the suggestion of 'go fish' - she looks puzzled for a moment before her expression clears up. "It's a card game. Right? We should suggest playing that in the garden. When Mystique can hear us."     She smiles wryly as she adds, "I'm just not very good at games, in general."
Mystique	Cynthia wipes her eyes off again. "That's only because you haven't played that many, practice makes perfect at games too you know, unless it's games of chance, in which case it's just luck. That's what she should do you know, get some board games and play them, get Lydia and Pete in here, maybe even Mystique, play a game of Monopoly and see who is a slum lord and whose a residential baron." One more eye wipe and she slides over to hug Clarice, "Forgive me for game murdering you?"
Clarice Ferguson	"Unfortunately, befoe I can forgive you I must find a way to exact my revenge. So you'll be stuck looking over your shoulder until that happens," Clarice remarks easily - even as she hugs her sister back. ...so she's probably not being serious. Right? Right? ...     Sure.
Mystique	Cynthia hmmms at this, "Probably a good thing I'll be going to school soon then, right? Less chance of you... oh wait, you can just pop in behind me. Oh well, I accept my fate." And then she start tickling Clarice mercilessly.
Clarice Ferguson	"He- Hey! You're not helping your case here!" Clarice squirms, and squeaks, and tries to tickle back - but in the end, she blinks to the other side of the room. "Seriously. Plotting my revenge, so you better sleep with one eye open," she cautions, before sticking out her tongue.
Mystique	Cynthia falls face first into the couch where Clarice was as she screams, "STOP CHEATING!" and then face to cushion. Picking herself up she looks over at Clarice with a fake angry face, it's obviously fake because her eyes are doing the angry squint but she can't stop smiling, "You're such a cheat, Clare! How can you claim revenge if you don't stick around for the reason for it?"
Clarice Ferguson	"Hey, you were already subject to the whim of revenge for shoot me," Clarice answers - before movin closer to sit beside Cynthia again, one arm going around her.     "You're ready to start at Happy Harbor on Monday? Assuming we can get the rings by then?" she asks in a warm tone, changing subjects completely.
Mystique	Cynthia nods repeatedly. "I'm ready. I've been looking at the courses they offer and I'm /soooo/ ready! I wish I could get Pete in there too, but I think I'll just cheat and send him the information to learn as well. I can wait for the rings though, because I know I need to... they have engineering classes Clare, /real/ engineering classes!"
Clarice Ferguson	"I wish we could enroll all the kids," Clarice agrees a bit wryly. She leans comfortably against Cynthia, asking in a curious, uncertain tone, "Is Pete so far ahead in his course work as well? I mean- wasn't he- did he always go to school?" she sounds uncertain. It seems unlikely - given what Cynthia had said of his past.
Mystique	Cynthia shakes her head. "No, I mean before his parents were killed he did, but after that no. He's not completely caught up, but he's doing a /lot/ better than he was. He just likes to learn about new things, so he can decide what he wants to learn about the most, for the future. So I share what I learn, and read about, and he tells me what interests him, but math... pheeew boy, he's a math wiz."
Clarice Ferguson	Whether it's right or wrong - Clarice is relieved to hear that Pete isn't too advanced for his online courses. It's not that she doesn't want him to succeed. ....it's that she doesn't want the responsibility it would entail to get him to more advanced courses. Would she had to foster him? Adopt him? When she's still just adjusting to the notion of being reponsible for her sister?     But he was okay where it was. Good.     "Well, then we don't have that in common," Clarice answers. By now Cynthia knows how awful Clarice is at math.     "Have you eaten yet? Should we head to the cafeteria?"