The kitchen was brightly lit and mostly empty. With most of the crew off sleeping or working out, only Hank and Fern had bothered to come down for a late breakfast. When the two spoke, it was quietly, but for the most part they simply let the silence hang between them. It wasn't awkward, just a bit odd- at least for Hank.

Fern had long since learned the art of shutting up when she had nothing to say and was perfectly content to poke at her burned scrambled eyes without a word between them. The girl frowned, flicking the black edges off her plate into a cup a few inches away.

Hank stared at her. Cheek resting on the palm of his hand, he was mildly impressed by her hand/eye coordination. "So…"

Her blue eyes flitted up to his, but her fork kept knocking the burned eggs into the coffee mug. "So?"

"So, I did some analysis on your…discharge." They both wrinkled their noses at that, but Hank continued in a casual tone, "Did you want to know the findings?"

Fern considered a moment before shrugging. In truth, she had never been terribly curious about her mutation. She had seen what it could do first hand and wanted to know how to control it, not understand it. Still, if the shy boy across from her was making an effort, she supposed she could too. "Sure."

"Well, I haven't had a chance to study it in length yet, but I thought you might like to know it's a neurotoxin." Hank adjusted his glasses. When the grey girl merely blinked at him, he explained, "That means it affects the nervous system. I don't know how potent it is yet, I don't have any control subjects, but I thought you'd like to know."

"So it fucks with people's spines?"

Hank's brows rose at her crass language. "It's a bit more complicated than that; the nervous system consists of brain, spinal cord and the electrochemical impulses throughout the body. In fact it could potentially damage nerve tissue altogether, regardless of where it's located."

"Wow." Fern leaned back in her seat. She wasn't entirely sure why knowing exactly what her skin was capable of made her stomach knot, but it did. Letting the fork clatter against the plate, she let out a long sigh and rubbed a heavy hand over her face. "Sounds serious."

The scientist continued to smile, either oblivious to or perhaps ignoring her discomfort. "It is."

The young woman licked her teeth. With a scoff of irritation, she muttered, "Great."

"It is great!" The scientist beamed at her. Shifting in his chair, he held his hands out in front of him as if to convey the gravity of his words. Fern might have been able to take him more seriously if he wasn't still grinning like a five year old. "Now that we've narrowed down what your uh, poison, is exactly, we can make an antidote; you won't have to worry about touching people so much." He faltered. "Well, I mean, you'll still have to worry, of course, but if you do have a, uh, accident, we should be able to fix it before it causes any permanent damage."

A rueful smile tugged at the girl's lips. "It's poisonous ooze, Hank, not wetting the bed."

"I know, but you know what I meant…don't you?" At her nod, he chuckled and adjusted his glasses. "Good."

The pair shared a smirk but said nothing as Charles and Moira entered the kitchen. The man was dressed in his typical posh British wear (slacks, a waistcoat and a long sleeve white shirt despite the summer heat) but Moira was dressed much more solemnly. Her dress was tea length and black, along with the gloves she wore. The woman's features matched her outfit, somber and serious.

Charles smiled stiffly at the couple at the table before addressing the agent. "What time are you leaving?"

"I have to be at the tarmac for noon."

Fern tapped her fork absently against her plate. With Moira's attention now on her, she asked, "Where are you going?"

"Back to Virginia." The petite brunette tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "They're holding the funerals today."

The girl frowned and dropped her gaze to her plate. She thought of Blake Sullivan, the man in the black suit who had been so kind and genuine to her and her stomach knotted. Squirming in her seat, she kept her head down and let the thin membrane flicker over her eyes.

"For the agents?" Hank asked with a hint of a catch in his voice.

Fern glanced at him then. He offered the grey girl a weak smile before he began to push his eggs around his plate. It occurred to her that the young scientist had probably known a good deal of the men who had died, given that he had worked with them for so long. Licking her teeth, she vaguely wondered how she could show some kind of comfort without touching him. As the other woman spoke, Fern decided to just keep her mouth shut.

"Agent Sullivan." Moira nodded and Charles offered her arm a consoling rub.

After a beat of silence, Fern asked, "Can I come?"

"I'd like to pay my respects as well." Hank looked hopeful and a bit sad. "We weren't exactly close, but I liked Agent Sullivan. He was a good man."

"I don't know how welcome you'd be…" Charles said with a wince. "Given the circumstances in which we left."

Both of them visibly deflated at that.

Moira bristled at that. "Nonsense. They have every right to come."

Some of the fierceness left her gaze when it landed on Fern. The mutant was dressed casually in her pajamas; in flannel pants and a baggy grey sweatshirt that did little to cover her skin (given the sleeves were pushed up to her elbows and the neckhole left one dark grey shoulder exposed). A slight frown on her lips, she asked if the girl had anything appropriate to wear.

"Well, I got cowboy boots."

Moira blinked at her. "I meant like anything black or a dress…"

"Oh." Fern pursed her lips. "No. I don't."

The woman nodded with a hum. Motioning for her, she grinned as the girl stood. With an arm wrapped around Fern's shoulders, Moira told her, "Let's see if I can find you something…"

The girl arched a delicate brow. The expression was surprisingly mute, but her voice was full of amusement as she asked, "Are you going to magically grow half a foot?"

Moira chuckled. "Maybe Raven does."

Fern frowned, but allowed the woman lead her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She rolled her shoulder, knocking Moira's hand off as she asked whether or not her measurements were okay. "For whatever Hank's cooking up, I mean."

Puzzled, the shorter brunette blinked. "I'm sure they'll be fine?"

"Do you need me to do yours?"

A fine blush crossed Moira's tan features. "Oh, no, I should be fine. I've had clothes tailored before, so…"

Fern nodded, her skin rippling slightly with embarrassment. Licking her teeth, she swallowed back her annoyance. She really should have known better than to assume Moira had been trying to extend some kind of olive branch into friendship when she took her measurements. "Oh, good."

The agent eyed her with a hint of wariness, but didn't comment. Charles had briefed her on all the mutants. Both Fern and Alex had been called antisocial and the Professor had told her to tread lightly with them. Smiling tightly, she said, "Let's see if Raven has anything for you to wear."

The blonde blinked at the women in her doorway. A bit stupefied she repeated, "You're going to the funerals?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" Raven crossed her arms. Holding herself, she thought of Darwin and how brutally the agents had been killed around them and asked, "Why would you want to go back there?"

Fern lifted an uncertain shoulder. "I liked Blake."

"Who?"

The grey girl's large blue eyes narrowed on the blonde. "Agent Sullivan."

"Oh." Raven cleared her throat delicately. She considered a moment, sweeping her gaze over Fern critically. With a hum, she looked to Moira. "Do you have any makeup?"

"Makeup?" The women chorused back at her.

"You know, like foundation?"

The petite brunette nodded with a hint of hesitance. "Well, yes, I do. Why?"

"I was just thinking…maybe we should cover her up a bit. So she doesn't get hassled."

Fern frowned, but said nothing as Moira shook her head. "Oh, Raven, I don't know…"

"It's worth a shot, right?" Her blue eyes went to the mutant in question. "Right?"

The girl licked her teeth and sniffed. "I guess? I've never worn makeup before."

Still, Moira hesitated. "It's just…I don't know if I have enough makeup to cover…everything she'd need covered."

"Please?" Raven begged. "I'll get you some more."

Apparently the fear in the blonde's eyes outweighed the dread in Fern's, because Moira nodded and went to get it. Raven offered her a tight smile and nodded to the bed.

With a heaving sigh and a roll of her eyes, Fern flopped onto it with a scowl. "You really think makeup's gonna fix me?"

Raven frowned. Crossing over to her closet, she began to sort through her clothes. "No, but it might make it easier for you to blend in."

"Couldn't I just wear a hood?"

"No; I think that would just make you even more conspicuous." The blonde hummed, pulled out a dress and considered it as she continued, "Maybe a veil, though, if this doesn't work."

The grey girl let out a scoff of laughter. "Isn't that a little dramatic? What's next, a full length train?"

Raven shook her head and tossed a dark navy dress onto the bed. "Lots of women wear veils to funerals."

"Oh." Fern wrinkled her nose and fiddled with the hem of the dress. It seemed like it would be awfully short. Rolling onto her back, she sighed. "I've never been to one before."

"They're not great," the shapeshifter told her with distaste. She had gone to both Charles' father and mother's funerals. Having never liked either of them, Raven hadn't exactly mourned their loss. "Lots of crying and speeches."

The brunette sighed as Moira returned. The petite agent glanced at the blonde as Raven tossed another dress on the bed. "Any luck?"

The shapeshifter smirked and nudged Fern's leg with a coat hanger. "We won't know until she tries them on."

The grey girl made a low noise of disapproval in the back of her throat. Sitting up, she grabbed the two dresses and slipped into the adjacent bathroom. A scowl crossed her features at the sight of her in the mirror. She could see why Raven was worried. The way her skin rippled and swirled would no doubt attract attention. The thought of going back to Virginia made her stomach knot, but she pushed her dread away.

She had to go back. To pay her respects to Blake. It was only right; he had been kind her and she didn't want to pass up the chance to say goodbye. As superficial as that goodbye may be.

The young woman stripped quickly and shrugged on the navy dress. It hung limply around her shoulders and bust, far too big for her reedy frame compared to Raven's buxom one. Fern stuck her tongue out at her reflection and awkwardly tugged down the bottom of it. It stopped a few inches above her knees and with its cap sleeves, she felt incredibly exposed. This feeling only grew when Raven opened the bathroom door.

The mutant glared as the blonde swept her gaze over her form. Arching a brow, she sneered, "See somethin' ya like, Darkholme?!"

Raven pursed her lips and squinted at Fern's tone. "That's a little…risqué, for a funeral."

The brunette huffed and tugged at the neck hole. "Yeah, I got that."

"Try these," the blonde ordered, shoving a small heap of clothes into the girl's lanky arms. "Oh, and I got you some stockings, too."

"Fantastic," Fern replied dryly.

The shapeshifter only offered her a sarcastic smile before she left.

The moment the door shut, Fern let the clothes fall to the floor. Pushing them around with her toes, she hummed. She was fairly certain that Raven had brought in more clothes than Fern actually owned. With a sigh, she pulled off the dress and picked another one up.

With a frown, she decided she was done. Instead of trying them all on, she simply picked the one with the longest hem and grabbed the nylons. Eying them dubiously, she frowned at how thin the material was. Even the relatively gentle action of rubbing it between her fingers created a small rip in them. A sigh slipped from her lips as she carefully pulled them up her legs. Each scute and gland along the outside of her legs and thighs cut through the stockings and she vaguely hoped they weren't expensive. The material felt odd; too tight and awkward, but she didn't complain as she stepped out of the bathroom.

Only Raven remained in the room. The door was still open, but Moira had disappeared.

The blonde patted the bed next to her. "You look great!"

Fern frowned and shot her a pointed look. "I look like a balloon someone let the air out of."

The blonde winced and fiddled with the jar and compact in her hands. "It's not that bad."

"Yes it is."

Raven offered her a sympathetic smile. "Come on, have a seat."

With a roll of her eyes, the brunette dropped down beside her. Pulling her black hair back, Fern sniffed with distaste as Raven popped open the compact. The grey girl took it from her with a finely arched brow. She had never actually seen make up before. Only ads for it in magazines. Josie didn't wear it and when her aunt came over she never brought it with her. The idea to coat her skin with it to hide from the world had never even crossed her mind. Apprehensive and a bit excited, she leaned over to watch Raven rub a bit of the strange smelling liquid onto the powder puff.

The blonde wasted no time. Swiping the foundation over Fern's cheeks and nose, she ignored the grey girl's flinch.

It smelt synthetic and frankly, horrible. The brunette's nose twitched with disgust, but she stayed quiet as Raven painted her face with the makeup. Toes flexing and her sharp nails digging into her thighs (and further ruining her nylons), Fern resisted the urge to bristle in her seat.

"Don't move," the blonde chastised. Her tone was more amused than annoyed, and a smile stretched over her lips at the Ailey girl's glare. She thumbed a bit of the thick smelly liquid over the girl's jaw and down her thin neck. A thought struck her and her smirk fell. "I hope this doesn't clog your pores."

"I don't have pores." Nose twitching, Fern licked her teeth. "So. Got any plans for the day?"

"I'm supposed to go into town with Sean and Alex to pick up supplies…" Raven eyed her friend's flickering skin with interest. With a devious smirk, her fingers never paused as she asked, "Something wrong?"

"You're just lucky is all."

"I'm not gonna steal your man, Ailey."

"What?"

Raven chuckled at the brunette's wide innocent eyes and swirling skin.

Fern glared at her. "I meant you're lucky to be able to go out so freely." She dropped her gaze and tugged at the hem of her skirt. "You can have Sean for all I care."

The shapeshifter arched a doubtful, somewhat judgemental brow. "Really?"

The grey girl's nose twitched, but she kept her head down. "Hank would be mad."

The blonde rolled her eyes. Passing Fern the liquid foundation, she picked up the compact and began to rub a bit of it onto a powder puff. "Here. Rub this over your neck."

The grey girl scowled and dumped a large slosh of it into her hand.

Raven's hand shot out to grab her wrist before she could slather it on her neck. "What are you doing?!"

"What you said!"

"You're going to ruin your dress!"

"So? I'll make you a new one."

The shapeshifter huffed. With a frown, she watched as Fern rubbed the foundation between her palms and lost all faith in any of the girl's femininity as she, rather unceremoniously, began to smear it over her face and neck.

"See? Doesn't have to take forever." Fern sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. The simple action left only a grey strip visible on her upper lip. The makeup felt cakey and weird, like drying mud. It dug into her scales and felt heavy between the setae of her fingertips. Wiping them on her dress, she ignored the beige streaks it left behind. "There. Done."

For a long moment, Raven just stared at her. Finally, she managed, "Seriously?"

Fern's brows furrowed. "What?"

The blonde rolled her eyes.

"So…" The brunette cleared her throat and stood from the bed. Hands clenching at her sides, she asked, "How do I look?"

The makeup didn't sit evenly on the grey girl's scales. Every tiny seam between them was all the more visible; instead of interlocking smoothly and naturally, the lines looked as though they had been traced into her skin. The foundation cracked along her skin, making her look more like a broken porcelain doll with her large blue eyes and abnormally pale skin.

Still, Raven was unable to see how her scales swirled and glittered with her obvious discomfort. With a shrug, she replied with a weak, "It'll have to do."

"I think I have something that might help."

Both women turned to find Charles standing in the doorway. A box was in his hands and a smirk was on his lips. He shot the shapeshifter a look and asked if she would be so inclined as to help Hank pick something suitable for the funeral. "He seems to be gravitating toward gingham dress shirts."

Raven winced and all but ran to the door. "I'll sort him out."

Fern scratched at her cheek as Charles approached her. He eyed her with a placid smile and told her point blank, "You look ridiculous."

"I knew it!"

He smiled and offered her the box. "But I have the solution. No makeup needed."

The grey girl hummed with doubt, but took it with eager hands. Setting it on the bed with a wide grin, she flipped off the lid. Her expression fell as she eased the garment out of the box. The cartwheel hat was lined with a long black veil. Unsure of what to make of the gift, Fern said simply, "It's a hat."

"It was my mother's." He took it from her and placed it on the young woman's head. "She wore it to my father's funeral and while it is a touch…dramatic, you won't seem out of place among the mourners." He let the thick lace material cloak her face and grinned. "And it's considerably less silly looking than drenching yourself in makeup."

Fern arched a brow behind the curtain and scratched awkwardly at the drying crud on the back of her hand. "Why? I hear women do it all the time."

Charles smirked at her, but said nothing. "Wash it off and find yourself a new dress. You'll be leaving soon."

The girl offered him a brief thumbs up before disappearing into Raven's bathroom.

A/N: shout out to my wonderful beta, Linda Ku! Sorry for the wait, guys.