His laundered clothes were waiting for him in the room affixed to the bathroom where he'd showered. It was an improvement from the dark cell with its wood paneling and double sized bed in the center of the room. He slipped into his jeans then pulled his shirt on over his head, leaving his coat behind on its hanger once his sneakers were on and his gloves firmly in place. One of the guards was waiting outside his new room to escort him to the dining room. Hassan had said several more mutants who were in the same predicament, as Psion would join them, but he didn't care as long as the food was good. He made a point to remember to ask Hassan where his sword had been taken. Asking the guard was pointless, they weren't programmed to speak or think freely. Psion looked up at the mechanical behemoth, explaining why he had felt no human presence beyond his prior cell door, and told it "Lead on fella."

The droid clicked off down the hall and Psion followed at a distance missing the familiar comforting weight of his sword at his left hip. It made him as uneasy as inhibitors on his powers. He felt…caged. It was why he avoided cities whenever possible, well it was one of the reasons. There were dreams involved that kept him out places like New York and Chicago specifically, but the way the buildings rose up so high made him feel as if he would never see the beauty of open space and smell clean air again. The droid stopped suddenly and Psion cracked into him, stumbling backwards and clutching his nose. The healing factor kicked in and the pain subsided slightly as the damage was repaired but his nose still smarted. Cursing, he peered around the droid and then directly into its neutral face, "Why did we stop?"
The droid pointed to the door on his left, "The dining room is through here sir" it said with a nasally voice that echoed mechanically.

"Oh, thank you." Psion looked at the door, probing it automatically with his mind before pushing it open and entering the brightly, but warmly, lit dining room. Hassan was already seated at the head, naturally. Psion smirked and went to the nearest seat, choosing a setting that gave him a clear view of Hassan, the door he'd come through, and the only other visible two in the room. Propping his elbows on the table, fingers clasped before his mouth, he sat and waited. He didn't have to wait very long. His ears picked up a pair of footsteps in the hall before the door opened to admit a thin timid girl with white hair. She hesitated, her dark blue eyes unable to mask the surprise at Psion's appearance at the table. He thought she must be used to the usual dinner guests and this new face set her on edge, he could smell it in her scent as she crossed the distance to the table and sat down harder than was necessary.

"Chloe, I would like you to meet John."

Psion ignored him as he nodded a greeting for Chloe. The look on her face told him that she didn't like being called by her real first name either. Psion grinned behind his hands, a practiced measure that never showed in the rest of his face now as the door opened to admit two more people. They were older than he, much older, and he thought he recognized one of them. They were introduced and Psion did no more to acknowledge their presence than he had given to Chloe. Soon, the table was full with people who laughed and spoke jovially amongst themselves, even with Hassan. It disgusted him that these people, obvious captives, were taking their prison sentence so lightly. The only other person at the table who didn't have anything to say was Chloe, who sat sullenly in her chair staring at the center of the expensive china plate set before her. Psion had a moment of compassion for her that was interrupted by the serving droids bringing their dinner. He ate graciously, not having had a solid meal in weeks. When the droids cleared the table, Hassan stood and began to talk. Psion ignored him, not even letting the words register in his head as the pompous fool rambled on. Most listened, Chloe didn't, nor did an African American boy of about thirteen who sat a couple seats away from Chloe. Psion logged that information away for future reference when he decided to escape. Those two didn't like it here, but stayed because they had nowhere else to go, that much he gathered from his quick telepathic jaunt through their heads undetected. He could use them to further his escape and perhaps they would be able to escape as well. If anything, they might be able to tell him how to disable the inhibitors willingly or not. Hassan concluded his speech, part of which Psion was sure mentioned and introduced him to everyone else. As people filed past to leave some offered a welcome, which he returned graciously. As Hassan passed, Psion grabbed his wrist and said nothing. Intelligently, Hassan rose no alarm but sat down as if he hadn't been stopped and it had been his intention all along to sit down and converse with him.

"Where is my blade?"

"What, pray tell, are you speaking off?"

"My sword, Hassan, where is it?"

"I don't recall you ever having a sword my dear boy."

"It was the black handle that was on my belt, steel throat and pommel, brass guard vaguely c-shaped?"

"OH, yes, I do remember that. That was a sword you say? No matter, it was confiscated. No weapons are allowed here, at least by ownership of the mutants."

"Confiscated to where." And Psion cursed silently not for the first time at not being able to read the blasted man's mind.

"Not that it would matter because there is no way you could get to it, but in the storage lock up in the basement. And do try not to break in and retrieve it."

Psion snorted and released Hassan's wrist. The older man stood, straightened his sleeve and swept out of the room. Psion was soon alone in the dining room, or so he thought. So absorbed in formulating the plan to retrieve his blade that he hadn't realized Chloe and the small African American boy had remained behind as well. He jumped backwards, causing his chair to tilt slightly, when he saw them sitting there.

"So what's your power?" The African American boy asked brightly.

"Its complicated kid. What's your name?"

"Frank, but most people around here call me Frankie." He flashed very white teeth, "So what did you want from Hassan?"

"He wanted his weapon back." Chloe said in a soft and feminine voice. He wouldn't have guessed, but perhaps it was her boyish figure that had thrown him off before.

"How did you hear?"

Chloe tapped her ears through her mane of white hair, "One of the powers of my mutation."

"You're not a healer like Wolverine are you…"

Chloe shook her head, Psion was aware of Frankie's head whipping back and forth as he followed the conversation as she said "I wouldn't mind that one, but my hearing, eyesight, and sense of smell are all hypersensitive. Better than the animals." Chloe shrugged, "Why do you want it back?"

Psion massaged the bridge of his nose. "That is also complicated, but with it I would be better equipped to escape this prison." He noted that both Chloe's and Frankie's eyes light up and knew he'd been right, "What's your power Frankie?" As the question was out, he hated himself at the thoughts he had immediately after. Chloe was pointless, he already had what she had, but maybe Frankie's would be something new that he could use to make his escape easier.