Breaking and Entering with Intent to Heal

Cole smiled at Galen. “Deal.” He began unrolling posters, placing them over the gouges fairly quickly, with Alex's help. Brushing his hands off, he beamed at Alex, turning to face galen. He turned in time to see Alex lean over and whisper to Galen. She was whispering, which would have made it hard to hear.

But they were on an abandoned floor, in a soundless room.

He could hear her fine.

Shoulders tensing, he made his way over to them, a slightly annoyed and angry look on his face. “No need. It's done.” He said coldly, waving a hand at the covered wounds in the wall. “Helps to have a couple extra hands.” He didn't directly acknowledge her words, but it was plain enough he'd heard and was displeased.

Looking at Galen, his face became a little less hard, not quite soft, just less annoyed. The man had done nothing but help. “Need some help, Galen?” He asked quietly, seeing his tired behaviour.

Galen's brow knitted curiously at Alex's words. Dangerous? In what way? From the look on her face, it appeared as if she knew something he didn't about Cole, that the reason for her warning went beyond the dangers apparent when someone had abilities as powerful as Cole's. His gaze flickered to the gashes on the wall, now covered by a few haphazardly hung algebra posters. He had been unconscious when they were made, but Alex had been able to see what happened. Perhaps she was worried that Cole couldn't control his abilities? After all, Galen couldn't heal himself if an accident occurred. He nodded to Alex distractedly, worried that Cole would hear her. If he couldn't control his powers, it wouldn't be a good idea to get him upset...

Cole made his way over to them, tense and cold and obviously angry. Sound carried far in an empty room, it seemed. Galen watched him silently, leaning heavily back against the teacher's desk when he announced he was already finished. "I'll be careful," he finally answered Alex, gaze turned listlessly towards Cole. He was too tired for subtlety or diplomacy - it was not in his nature to trust either of them, and he felt too drained to pretend otherwise.

He shook his head at Cole's offer of help and pushed himself defiantly off the desk, straightening his shoulders and willing his legs to stop shaking. "I'll be fine." He knew the offer was meant in kindness, but he hating being seen when he was weak and unsteady, hated the crack in his carefully constructed wall of invulnerability being acknowledged. All he wanted right now was to collapse into his bed; the only thing stopping him from leaving immediately was the thought of the achingly long walk from the third floor to his dorm room.

Cole brushed a lock of black hair from his brow, cool, cold fury in his eyes only given a failing attempt at being hidden. Alex didn't seem to trust him, though he'd shared with her more than any other. Only the mother of the boy he'd accidentally killed had even an inkling as to what he was, and she'd acted on it. She'd tried to kill him, only succeeding in putting him in a wheelchair. Alex seemed to be more stable, though just as wary, making her all the more dangerous.

Had he damned himself by sharing with her?

Shaking his head wearily, his anger seemed to melt away, leaving behind a mentally weary boy, shoulders slumping slightly. His curtain of black hair fell back in front of his eyes, this time not meeting any resistance.

“Right then. Thanks again, Galen. I'll see you around.” He said quietly. “Alex.” He nodded to her, nothing in his tone but disappointment, in himself and in the girl. A tendril floated near-invisibly by him, stroking his shoulder as if trying to comfort him.

As if it were alive.

Cole spun around and walked from the room, leaving the door open behind himself. He hit the 'call elevator button' and turned, going into the stairwell as the elevator opened behind him, waiting for the other two.

Cole seemed to deflate before Galen's eyes, and he looked so tired, so sick of being judged that Galen felt a momentary twinge of empathy for the boy. He nodded minutely towards him, softly echoing "see you around." He could think of a dozen comforting things to say, but they all seemed fake, all required too much effort for empty words.

So he didn't say anything, and Cole left.

"He forgot his wheelchair." Galen muttered, eyes trained on the abandoned device. It wasn't unusual; people he healed often made huge shows of leaving their chairs behind when they left. But they never forgot them, cast them aside as easily as Cole had. "Think we should do something with it?"

Finally, hesitantly, he set off slowly but steadily towards the door, careful not to wobble even the slightest. When he reached the doorway, he turned, leaning gently on the frame. "You going to the dorms?" He called casually towards Alex. As much as he hated to admit it, walking by himself right now was probably not a good idea.

Galen eyed the wheelchair with a mixture of distaste and longing. He couldn't stand the thought of showing that much weakness to anyone - even Alex the mind-reader, who undoubtedly already knew how pathetically tired he really was. On the other hand, it would be a relief to not have to worry about falling and breaking his weakened bones...

It wasn't possible, anyway. He shook his head lightly, pushing himself off from against the doorframe. "Appreciate it," He mumbled, ruffling his massive wings self-consciously. "But I can't really sit in normal chairs. I'd have to hold my wings up so they don't get crushed or rolled over... It wouldn't be much of a rest." He paused, waiting for her to catch up with him. "Plus there's my pigheaded pride. I've got a reputation to uphold, you know."

The elevator doors had closed by the time they neared them, and Galen stabbed the button again with bleary, thick fingers. "Ah, that's hardly fair," he mumbled, fatigue lending a drowsy slur and a warm, peaceful tone to his words. "Bullheadedness is not a trait confined to men alone, hmm?"

The doors slid open silently, and he stepped inside, careful to give the phantom wheelchair a wide birth. He knew Alex was a telekinetic, but objects moving when they weren't supposed to still made him nervous. He leaned against the wall, surveying Alex through half-closed eyelids. "You've got your fair share of machismo, yourself." He mumbled, gloved hands clasping the rails lightly. He was sleepy, mind beginning to fog with exhaustion, and he wasn't giving much thought to what might be polite or appropriate.