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Charlie's been around the Institute a few weeks now; you may have seen him. Though he's older than most of the other kids, he's a student, working on finishing his diploma after an unfortunate series of circumstances interrupted his normal educucation. So far he's been a bit of a loner, not really having had a lot of luck making friends with the other students. He's been getting his work done, which is really the most important thing, but it may have been discussed amongst the Institute staff that his social skills are a bit.. lacking? Whatever the case, today finds him in the school's library, sitting on the floor, leaning back against one of the stacks, a book in his lap, his attention focused on the text. Oh, and he's smoking. Inside. Sure the Professor loves that.
Julie comes wandering into the library with a couple of shop manuals, a slide rule, and a pad of paper cradled in one arm, and balancing a mug of coffee in another, this one festooned with a Studebaker logo and the words Authorized Service on one side. half-humming, half-singing some Tony Bennett song under her breath, idly, as she sets things down on a little coffee table, then notices the new kid reading on the floor, there. She smirks, a bit, wheeling a stepstool over to one of the shelves, and says, in a New York Italian accent, "Yaknow, I wouldnta figured you for a big time bookworm. Catching up on your reading?"
Charlie actually doesn't repond for a moment, or even lift his eyes from the book until he's finished the paragraph he was reading. The young man even taps the ashes from the end of his cigarette into the small black tray beside before he deigns to look up at the woman interrupting him. "Lo and behold, the kid can read," he deadpans, the sarcasm obvious even if the tone doesn't carry it alone. His eyes lift from the page, noting the page number silently before closing the book. Only monsters dog-ear the pages. The cigarette is drawn to his lips again, and he takes in a long drag. "Catching up?" He looks a bit put out by the term, as if it implied he was somehow behind. Yeah, he's about a year behind, all things considered. "Personal interest," he says after a brief pause, lifting the book to show the cover. Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietzche. Not the kind of thing you'd catch a high school teacher assigning, to be sure. He doesn't resume reading though, instead just watching the new arrival expectantly.
Julie nods, climbing up on the step to retrieve some book of tables. "Well, end of the school year, sometimes you get more time for your own reading and all. Seems this place helps keep me hopping most of the time, one way or another. "Heard you missed some of a school year back there, kinda gets repetitive that way. Happened to me a while back, one time I kinda had to get out of town cause of a thing."
"You might say that," Charlie says. "Missed a couple, if you want to get technical." He takes another drag of the cigarette, and ashes out in the tray again. There may be a chance he got some on the floor. That's not a fire hazard, is it? Carpets, hot ashes.. nah. Not a concern. "Shop teacher wouldn't be caught dead in the library at my old school, tell you that much though."
Julie shrugs, winks, "Hey, a gal gets a chance to go to engineering school, be crazy not to take it, I guess. I mean, a diploma could be worth something, someday," she jokes. Such it is for girls in that field. "I mean, you get a lotta philosophy and the rest along the way, but everyone had you pegged for turning up at shop class. We been working on this Golden Hawk, when something else doesn't get pulled in needing attention. Oughtta look like something eventually. I mean, I hauled it in here needing work on everything, but that's kinda the point of a class."
"My old man worked on cars for a living," Charlie says, breathing a few whisps of gray smoke from his nostrils. "Not exactly itching to get into that line of work, if you know what I mean." Despite his seemingly natural talent for it, if his transcripts from before the incident are to be believed. Must run in the family. "You get a bike in that needs work though, maybe I pop by."
Julie nods. "It's the family business here, too. Kinda woulda been hard for me to get far with this stuff, otherwise. As bikes go, some of the guys like em, I guess you mighta seen. Shift just got himself a Vincent, looks like fun, that. Me, I usually like four wheels. Might try on one of those BMW's with the shaft drive if a bargain ever turns up, though, just for something a bit different. Cost a good couplea piggybanks just now, though."
"Cars feel like cages," Charlie says with a shrug, and takes another drag from his cigarette, which is by now practically just a nub. "I like the freedom of a bike. Nothing holding you in, or back." He crushes the dead cig into the tray, and pulls another out from the pack in his front pocket. Charlie places it between his teeth, and pulls a second one out, offering it up to Julie. It'd be rude otherwise, right?
Julie goes ahead and accepts one, "Gratzie. And here I am trying to switch to filters," she says, wryly. "I got someone keeps nagging about it and all." Offers a light from a Zippo from her pocket, since Charlie's on the floor. Then just hrms and reaches out a hand, there's a slight 'vrr' sound, and the dial on a window fan turns up as if by itself. "Hey, sometimes I put cages in cars, if they're fast enough. I got enough roll bar for my bracket in my Chevy, you know, for passing tech and all."
Charlie takes the lighter as offered, and lights his own cigarette before handing it back. When the fan stars to turn by itself, he smirks. "That's a neat trick," he says dryly. Sure, he's been here a few weeks, and mutants doing their thing isn't exactly uncommon, but outside of the school he hasn't had a lot of interaction with other mutants. "Had enough being stuck places I didn't want to be," he says after a moment. "Not that I didn't deserve it or anything, but.." he shrugs. "I gotta go," he says abruptly, pushing himself to his feet. "Thanks for the chat." And with that, Charlie heads toward the door at a brisk pace, book in hand. Social skills indeed.