Author's Notes: My apologies for this chapter having taken so long to get up here, I had a lot of stuff to do last week and as a result quite little was written. I finally managed to close the chapter off (albeit, not very gracefully) last night sometime, so I figured it'd be best to get this thing up stat. Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed, the feedback really helps me out and I can't thank you enough. Please remember to do thus again at the end of this chapter as well, thank you! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: See every other chapter written for more "holy mother of god, don't sue me I claim no ownership infringement!1" stuff.

"I jumped in the river and what did I see?
Black-eyed angels swam with me.
A moon full of stars and astral cars,
All the things I used to see.
All my lovers were there with me,
All my past and futures.
And we all went to heaven in a little row boat,
There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt."

-Radiohead, 'Pyramid Song'

Chapter 8- "You Only Live Once"

John's got a talent for setting shit on fire, that I must admit, fury burning through my veins. I was so angry with him I wanted to smash his face into the wall. I entertained the notion for a little while as we walked toward Professor Xavier's office, but my broken ribs and the fact that the man we were going to see was the world's greatest telepath had me at a disadvantage. And then there was the lighter, that damnable, wretched lighter John kept clicking. I wanted to slap him, more so than yesterday, in fact. I wanted to slap him, then throw him into the nearest wall and chuck his lighter into a beehive. I was so close to back-handing the sneer off of those full, pouty lips that I-

Whoa, back up. When the hell did a jackass like St. John Allerdyce get adjectives like that assigned to his body parts? I pushed it into the back of my mind, ignoring it for the time being as we neared the Professor's door. Right now I don't need a handful of stupid thoughts irritating me, I have to suck up my pride and get ready to kiss and make up in front of a man I'd rather my reputation were never tarnished in front of. Fucking John, this is all his fault. And Xavier can probably hear all of this. Great. I really need a cigarette.

"Come in." It rings out in the silence before either of us have a chance to knock. We exchange looks, his burning with distaste while my own is cold and challenging as we open the door and enter the room. The Professor is sitting behind his desk, hands steeped upon the polished hardwood surface as he regards us, motioning for the both of us to sit before him. I lower myself onto the chair, back straight and at attention. I know what happens with conversations like this, I've had them plenty of times before. Play nice, don't take his ball without asking, don't pull her pigtails, don't be a disruption, etc., etc. and from most other folk I'd take this with a roll of my eyes. But this is going to come from a man who's responsible for my training as a mutant and, as a result, I'm rather humbled and ashamed of myself. If it hadn't been for Charles Xavier sending Logan out to Los Angeles to find me I'd surely be lost by now, and with this knowledge I find it rather hard to meet the eyes of the wheelchair-bound professor. A moment later he speaks, commanding my attention.

"Mutants, like all creatures, don't always get along with one another. If you'd like a sterling example of that I might suggest watching Professor Summers and Logan argue over who gets the last steak at dinner, but that's rather beside the point." He pauses for a moment, giving each of us a discerning look. "While we cannot expect either of you to become close, personal friends I do expect both of you to treat one another with some sense of civility, especially within the classroom. What you do with your own intellects withstanding, I won't have you disrupting the educations of other students. Do I make myself clear?"

I give a simple incline with my head while John replies with a short "Crystal." I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him and the Professor smiles slightly.

"Now, as I'm sure you're well aware, Scott expects me to give you each some form of punishment to ensure that neither of you will continue your previous display of behavior in his classroom, and I think I have just the thing in mind." Said the spider to the fly. He smiles warmly and John and I exchange uneasy glances. "You'll both be meeting in the foyer at nine o'clock, please be punctual. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a rather important call to take. Good day." And with that, he released us into the hall again.

We'd not cleared the door by five feet when I made a bee-line for the dorms. "Fuck this, I need a cigarette." I stopped when I realized John wasn't following me. Turning around, I addressed him. "Please don't tell me that you actually carry that fucking lighter around and you don't smoke, that's just sad."

I was met with a glare. "Don't flatter yourself, Mills. Hurry up."

This time I did roll my eyes, sprinting upstairs and dashing into my room, trying to be mindful of my injuries. Rummaging through a pocket on my backpack, I found my pack of cigarettes and some of the Advil from earlier in the week. Ingesting the former I made my way back downstairs, leaping down the last few steps and landing neatly next to John. Wordlessly he led the way outside and we stopped, standing off to the side of the school, in the shade of the ivy-covered building. My first day at Mutant High and I've just come back from getting detention with the resident asshat, and now we're both out behind the school smoking and ditching class. The irony of it chuffs me as I hand him a cigarette wordlessly, chuckling as I put my own between my lips. In a flash John's there with his lighter, that telltale orange glow springing forth from it for the first time before my eyes. There's a moment where our eyes meet over the flame, while I'm lighting the end of my cigarette with it, and I can see the fire in his eyes. It'd be unnerving if it weren't so damn fascinating, yellow flames licking up along the dark pooling brown, the inky black of the pupils. Pulling back, I blow out a steady stream of smoke as I watch him light his own, flicking the lighter shut and depositing it safely within a pocket. We smoke in silence for a little while before I speak.

"You're not such a pain in the ass when you're smoking, you should do it more often," I let a few smoke rings out his way for added effect, smiling softly. It's eleven o'clock in the morning and the sun is shining bright above, it's the outlook of a perfect day on Earth and yet still all either of us can do is squint up at the light and move further into the shade.

"Speak for yourself, Mills. Cigarettes seem to keep you from trying too hard, which is refreshing," he counters, taking a drag, blowing the smoke out of his mouth lazily.

Rather than take his bait, a thought comes to mind. "Do you feel closer to the fire when you do it?" After I blurt it out I feel like an idiot. I mean, seriously, what sort of an asinine question is that? Needless to say the sincerity of his response catches me off guard.

"Yeah, actually, it sort of does." He inhales again, eyes on the glowing tip as he exhales. "I can feel it there in front of me, and it's the closest I'll ever get to having it within me when I inhale. Well, unless I take up fire-breathing," he grins wryly. "I can withstand most of it, the heat and the flames. It's great."

I nod in understanding, observing. "You seem to have a really close relationship with it."

"It's kind of hard for me not to, you know, seeing that I can control it and everything." And the sarcasm reigns supreme once again. There was a moment, one brief, shimmering instance when we were both open and level with one another, and it was surprisingly gratifying. Now the walls are back in place and we smoke with guarded expressions beside the ivy. I have to wonder if it'll ever happen again.

I shrug. "I'm not that insane about water. I mean, I have to sort of tap into it, it's like turning on a faucet." Okay, that was lame, but he seems to get the general meaning behind it, nodding as he takes another drag and drops the cigarette butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the heel of his trainers.

"That's your problem; you're too afraid to give yourself to it, to really immerse yourself in it. You see, me," he grins, "I'm not hesitant with the fire, I know my limitations, what I can and can't do, how much I can take before I fuck it up. But you, you're too green for it, you're too scared you're going to screw up and do something stupid and that's where you lose it. If you got your panties out of that twist, you'd probably have a lot more fun." And with that St. John Allerdyce leaves me standing, dumbfounded by his clarity with a cigarette butt between two fingers and my mouth ajar, watching him as he saunter's off to head back inside. Flustered, I glower at his receding form, deciding that he's still a giant pain in the ass, even when he is smoking.

Twenty minutes of meandering later and I'm back inside, heading into the dining room for lunch. My mind flickers back to John's words but I manage to hold them at bay, to keep them from riling me up. Snappy bastard, and he accused me of being a pretentious know-it-all. What the fuck makes him so sure-

All right, so I'm trying to keep it out of my head, it's a learning process. There aren't a lot of people inside the dining hall yet, classes having barely been let out so early in the day, but I get in line anyway, grabbing some food to munch on, though truth be told I'm not very hungry.

"You gonna just stand there and stare at it or are you going to take it?" a gruff voice asks from behind me. "Some of us missed breakfast."

I turn and grin sheepishly, making way for Logan to get by. "Sorry, I forgot what I was doing."

We fill our plates in silence and grab drinks, going to sit at one of the spare, small tables off to the side. I'm almost surprised that he isn't sitting at the professor's table, but something that segregated isn't really Logan's style; he sits where he pleases, with whom he chooses to share his company. This afternoon it appears that I'm the lucky recipient, I almost want to ask him if this all comes with a washer dryer set ala some 1970's game show. He digs into his food almost immediately, pausing for a moment to take a swig of water. "Why aren't you in class?"

I look down at my sandwich and spinach salad, fork pushing it aimlessly about my plate. Clearly, I'm never going to get a break. "I got kicked out of Professor Summers' class for arguing with John."

Logan let out a bark of laughter. "He the punk with the lighter?"

I sighed, relieved he wasn't angry. "Yeah, him. He was being a dick so I gave him a verbal sock in the face and then he got all pissy with me about it. Needless to say, Professor Summers wasn't too thrilled to find us on the verge of shouting at one another when we were supposed to be discussing the symbolism of Grendel within Beowulf by means of Campbell's theories."

"Can't imagine he would have been. Scotty really needs to lay off the hero epics, this is the third one he's done this semester," Logan grumbles wryly, polishing off his steak sandwich. I momentarily entertained the notion of the school purchasing an entire herd of cattle to be used purely for Logan's carnivorous eating habits.

"Has he really? That sounds fucking awful. I mean, granted, it's an important part in literature, but there's other ground to cover as well, he needn't make the class so obscenely dull."

Logan grinned sardonically. "Well, he's not exactly known for being the most exciting man on the team."

I frowned, munching thoughtfully on a piece of lettuce. "The X-Men, you mean?" This was the first time I'd heard him even mention the name, let alone hinting at his affiliation to it. Curiosity rose unbidden and I watched him carefully from my observational standpoint.

But Logan, of course, knows when he's being sized up. "Yeah. Don't you worry about any of that though, you just concentrate on getting through the rest of the day and getting situated around here, all right? I'll see you in class." And with that he picked himself up and left. I sighed, knowing that, somewhere along my querying, I'd touched a nerve. It bothered me, knowing that I'd upset him somehow. He's probably the only person here, with the exception of the omnipotent Professor, that I really want the approval of and what progress I try to make always seems to backfire directly in my face. I took a deep breath. Control, just like Professor Munroe had told me. One doesn't simply gain the trust of a man like Logan after a few days in his company. These things would take time, and I needed to be able to understand that and accept it for what it was.

Sort of like how I needed to understand the impatient tapping on my shoulder and approve the gaping Asian girl beside me. "Jubilee, what's up?"

"Ohmygod, did you really get kicked out of Summers' class today!"

Apparently news travels fast in small schools. Who knew? "Yes, I did."

She grinned. "That's wicked cool! What happened? Bobby mentioned something about you and John. Did you guys duke it out or something?" She took Logan's vacated seat and propped her elbows up on the tabletop, her attention focused solely upon me. Ah, to be the fixation of gossip.

"No, Jubilee, we didn't fight it out the drunken Irish way, though I'd have loved to see Summers' expression if we had," the thought was an amusing one and I let out a laugh. I was definitely biased in Logan's favor. "No, I'd like to retain my welcome here. We were just arguing and Professor Summers' found it inappropriate, so he sent us to the headmaster's office." Put in such base terms, Jubilee deflated slightly.

"Aw man, I was kind of hoping something exciting had gone down. It's weird, you know, I was used to stuff like that happening all the time back at my old school, now everything gets so dull sometimes and there's nothing to stir it up." She actually looked disheartened, genuinely so. I felt badly for her. While she was undoubtedly one of the happiest people I'd ever seen, sans narcotics, she obviously missed parts of her life before mutanthood had descended and taken her under its wing. Christ, didn't we all? Jubilee though, if anything, is indomitable in her spirit, and this is something I've been sure to note over the last day. Not a minute later and she's wearing her trademark smile, all mischief and gossip.

"At least you gave him a good talking to, yeah? I've been waiting for someone to come around and put him in his place, hopefully I'll be there to see it happen sometime," she seemed almost giddy with the prospect and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, we both got schooled by the Professor, and we'll be serving detention at nine tonight, but I don't know…" I trailed off. There was no real victor in our last few encounters, Summers having broken up the first before it really escalated into anything and the last was more of a civil conversation than anything hostile, something that continues to amaze me even an hour later.

"I'm really not surprised you two are constantly at each other's throats, you know?" Jubilee stated, leaning back in her chair. "You two have a lot of conflicting personality traits, and well, come on, it's fire vs. water, it's almost expected that you guys are going to be going after one another each chance you get."

"True," I took a bite of my sandwich. "It's pretty standard in that arch nemesis sense, I'd imagine."

"What's really interesting is- shit, we have like, five minutes to get to class!" Jubilee gaped at the clock and shot up from her seat. I followed her, almost dropping my tray in my hurry. Next class, what was my next class?

"You're in History with Kitty and I, come on or we'll be late!" Jubilee called over her shoulder. With a small start I almost wondered if the girl had any latent telepathic abilities, following her quickly out of the dining room and down the hall to another classroom.

History went on well enough, I gained another weighty text book from Professor Munroe and more notes than I knew what to do with. We were going over the American Revolutionary period, which was simple enough, and apparently there was a test to be had next class. Shaking my head slightly as I walked out, I noted that this school really put a whole new meaning to the phrase "hit the ground running", I'd barely had time to breathe since I'd gotten here.

"Oh, the sky is not the limit and you're never gonna guess what is."

I sang the line quietly to myself amidst the throng of students, pulling out my schedule, eyes scanning over it quickly as I walked down the hallway. Logan, shit, that's right, I have his self defense class next. I frown, wondering what the hell I'm going to do in there with a chest full of broken ribs. Hopefully more than cheerleading duties, I'm really not one for all of that sidelines bullshit.

"Boo."

Directly in my ear. I spin around, almost falling as I come face to face with a heartily laughing Rogue and Bobby. Scowling, I try to look dignified. "We have class and all you two can do is spook me in the hallways? Bobby, I thought you were supposed to be some sort of a model student."

Bobby stopped laughing long enough to try and put up a fight to my accusations, but Rogue beat him to it, calming herself. "We were walkin' along when we saw ya and realized ya probably didn't know the way down to the Danger Room."

I cocked a brow. "The 'Danger Room'? Sounds like some kinky bondage suite, what the hell are we going in there for?"

"God, you and John really have a similar way of wording things," Bobby observed, oblivious to the decidedly cool look I gave him in response. He controlled ice, but that didn't mean I couldn't give him a rude wake up call the next morning. "The Danger Room is a training room, the X-Men use it and older students enrolled in Logan's self defense class are allowed to train in it as well. It's on the lower level, though, so a lot of people have trouble finding it."

I gave them a nod. "All right, fair game. Let's get down there soon, though. Logan gets on my ass enough as it is about waking up late, I don't want to hear him rabbiting on about my tardiness on the first day of class."

Rogue gave me a sympathetic look and I followed them to an elevator, something that looked exceedingly out of place in so fine a mansion. Hell, electricity looked foreign here, the building seemed to be perpetually 19th century, even 18th century insofar as I could surmise. I bit my lip as I felt that familiar sinking sensation, the elevator taking us down into the subterranean area bellow the school. It opened and we followed a sterile corridor until we reached its end, passing a few doors on the way. This entire area seemed so alien, like we'd been transported to some other location far, far away from Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in Westchester, New York. I felt like I should be below the fucking Pentagon. "This place is a trip, I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

Bobby laughed. "You say that now, just wait a few weeks, you'll know the school inside and out like the back of your hand. Ah, here we are-" he pressed a button and a door slid aside revealing what had to be the largest single enclosed space I'd ever set eyes on. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things at the mansion that seemed to have been super-sized. Part of me wondered what the Professor was trying to compensate for. It was then, of course, that I recalled that the man was a telepath.

In the small likelihood that humans and mutants alike were wondering as to my state of intelligence, I'm still a fucking moron.

"'Bout time you three showed up, even Matchstick over here managed to make it on time," a gruff voice called out to us from the center of the vast space where about nine other students were located. Even from over here it wasn't hard to see John's cocky smirk.

"Sorry sir," Bobby called out as we jogged across the open space towards the others. "Adrian didn't know where the class was, we wanted to make sure she got here all right."

"That's chivalrous of you, kid, now line up with the others." We joined the students, our things placed a few feet behind us. I find myself standing beside Piotr. Beatrice is two people away to my left. Biting the inside of my cheek, I avoid looking at her.

"The first thing I want to clear up is that this is not a training camp to get into the X-Men, have I made myself understood? If Chuck wants any of you on the team he'll contact you after you've graduated." Those hazel eyes of his cut into you when he's got them narrowed like that, sizing everyone up, they don't even soften when his gaze goes over Rogue or myself. "I'm going to teach you how to protect yourselves. Later on we may work with your abilities, depending on what Chuck incorporates into the lesson, but for now it's all physical. Do any of you have injuries that won't allow you to participate, aside from Mills?"

When no one raises their hands I try to maintain a veneer of detachment, focusing solely on Logan as all but two send looks my way. That duo is probably Rogue and Kitty, they're the only ones I've really told about my ribs, keeping the details of L.A. quiet. It appears I'll be the only one sitting out these next couple of weeks and I almost wonder if I shouldn't transfer to another class. After all, what good will it do me if I can hardly move without feeling the pain, I'm certainly not going to be doing any round-house kicks in this shape. But then Logan starts giving examples and I move back from the rest of them, awed by his poise. The man, even in sweatpants and a tee shirt, is more graceful than any dancer, demonstrating martial arts to our small class. Admitantly, the moves aren't overly complicated, after all, it's only the first lesson, but they're enough to amaze us all into a sort of stunned silence. He teaches them for the next hour and a half as I watch, seated next to my things. Grabbing a towel from off the floor nearby, he stops.

"Remember to buy some workout clothes for the next class, you can't be expected to learn any of this well in a pair of jeans. And none of that crap I've seen you walkin' around in, Jubilee; if you want a position in that line of work get it outside of my class. We're done for today." And with those gloriously insightful words he released us to the locker rooms. I stayed back, seeing no need to shower yet again that day, as I hadn't done anything to warrant it.

"I don't really see the point of being here right now, I can't do anything," I said, standing with a grimace.

Logan turned, draping the towel over his shoulder. "You can still help yourself out kid, even if you are hurt. You'll need to watch what I'm teachin' 'em, get it into your head so that you don't fall behind. As long as you've got your goal in mind the rest of it should follow through with practice."

"If I could learn how to defend myself though visualization I'd be a black belt by now from all the kung-fu movies I've watched," I muttered, still feeling somewhat ill-tempered. Realizing my dick comment I tried again, soothing it over. "You did well for your first day teaching, they're going to gain a lot from you."

"Thanks, kid. Mills," he corrects himself, smiling slightly. "And don't be so damn pessimistic about this all the time, I can teach you a lot 'bout takin' care of yourself. We can make sure this never happens to you again."

He never gestured to me or made any sort of physical indication, but I know of what he speaks. The bruises fading around my neck and torso, the broken bones in my chest. The memories of being throttled against a brick wall in an alley way and having my cheek pressed against pavement as shoes railed upon my sensitive flesh speak louder than any words known to men. Together, he seems to say, we can stop Los Angeles from reoccurring. It's a notion I'm quite keen on. "The moment my ribs heal you know that I'll be back in class in a heartbeat. I'll follow your suggestion, watch the others practice and do what I can on my own to grasp the rest. Thanks, for everything. I really can't express my gratitude to you."

He shakes his head, starting off toward the exit. "Don't worry about it, kid."

"I have a name you hairy, oafish Canadian," I grumble as he heads out the door. Christ, I should probably give up hope on him ever actually remembering that. But I'm not stupid, I know it's not an issue of memory or convenience; things like this distance one person from another, they keep that safe barrier of impersonality to a relationship, keeping people at arms length. Ah, the loner stereotype, I feel like a scientist on a field expedition.

"Fun lesson, huh?" Bobby stands beside me, hair wet from the shower he undoubtedly just took.

"It looked like it," I reply, snapping out of my train of thought. "What time is it, anyway? It can't be after two yet."

"Time to head off to class, probably. You have ethics and Philosophy next, right?" The fact that everyone I know has a better grasp of my own schedule is pretty pathetic, but I pull it out and take a look anyway. Icebox is right on.

"Apparently so. I'm surprised the Professor actually teaches. I mean, well, I suppose there's a reason for his title, that's obvious enough, but it seems like he has so much to do, it's hard to imagine him having time to lecture on in front of a class full of students."

Bobby gives me one of those winning, toothy smiles every dentist would love. "You'd be amazed at what Professor Xavier does have time for." Well, the man has time to give me detention on my first day of school. Score one for Icebox.

"C'mon y'all, we'll be late for class!" Rogue rushes toward us. Picking up our things, we make for the exit and snap-dash to the elevator. A short ride up and we're off down the hall and into another class room. I've never been one for spiritual studies of any sort, so things such as philosophy and ethics seem a little useless to me. I'm all for other people dedicating their lives to it, but if I have to sit through a serious lesson on Descartes I might just slap myself, he had shitty ideals as it was. Thankfully, though, the Professor spared us all the trivialities and actually gave us some food for thought. It wasn't unexpected, but it was certainly a nice change of tactic from the expected hum-drum of bullshit.

And then, rather abruptly it seems, as I was beyond lost in the steady calm of the Professor's voice, class is over and I'm looking for seclusion. And somehow I've still managed to collect an armful of notes, this is insane. It's that very thing, I realize as I go back outside to the little alcove Prometheus and I hid out in earlier, that causes me to duck out of sight. I've only been here a day and already I'm turning reclusive, yet I've my reasons, as we're all bound to. Time, great Chronos is my foe in this battle of dawning comprehension, in which my present reality hits me like the proverbial ton of bricks and sets me scrambling with eager hands for my cigarette pack. I've only been here a day. The sheer magnitude of my current surroundings is enough to plummet me through the earth and back out somewhere in China. Fumbling with a cheap lighter in my pocket, part of me curses inwardly, wondering how in the hell all of this has even happened and why St. John isn't here with his Zippo being useful. I'm a leper in a circus of freaks, I note wryly, finally managing to get the flame to catch at the tip of my Camel, I can barely use my own powers to any vast extent. Even without the sheer willpower and concentration required, something I'm sure Professor Munroe will assure me is a fucking cakewalk the next time we meet, I'm too guarded, too edgy with it. It's almost as though there's something lurking, dark and strange, in the corner of my vision, though the moment I turn to glimpse their face they disappear into the night. There's something else buried and locked within the silly antics and built-in Super-Soaker abilities and, like any sane human- mutant- being, it scares the piss out of me.

Maybe this is what it feels like to be Rogue, to be Logan, hell, even Professor "I really do have a poleax rammed up my sphincter and yes this totally explains why I'm such an insufferable jackass to everyone" Summers. It seems like everyone here has a fucking chip on their shoulder, something to make the innocence that should radiate from their youthful beings seem diminished and subdued. Goodness knows it's rude to presume, but I've never been known solely for the merit of my polite conversation and pleasantries. Saying this isn't fair would be the obvious answer, and also the understatement of the century, but it still pops up in my head as I take a leisurely drag off the filter, watching as little smoking donuts come popping out of my mouth. I'm the worst faux-cook ever, even my smoke rings have taken the toll of my uneasy thoughts.

"He whistles and he runs…"

The song comes without thought, easily rolling off my tongue as I enjoy my seclusion. In a place like this, especially with three girls as one's roommates, it can be understood without any fear of misinterpretation that the word "privacy" is a relative term. Among teenagers it varies from reading over your friend's shoulder whilst you stand obviously behind them in a computer lab or giving your roommate a little alone time so that he and his hand might have an intimate exchange. With Jubilee and Kitty, I wonder what I'll have to do short of bolting myself shut in a closet in order to obtain any sort of discretion. Rogue is someone I don't see myself having a problem with any time in the near future, we've too much in common, insofar as I can grasp. We're fairly reserved, guarded people, though we're personable enough when we have to be and then there's, well, Logan. We're two of the only people in this place, which may as well be the entire fucking world where this subject is concerned, who have actually really spent time with him, caught a rare glimpse of him for who he truly is. I appear to be her stage at the next level, part of me almost wonders who will come to usurp my current position.

Shaking my head, I banish such idiotic thoughts from my mind and crush my cigarette butt out, heading back inside. I've still got detention tonight and I'll be damned if I didn't get some sort of homework in every class but Logan's, as one can hardly consider buying a few pairs of sport's bras and some sweat pants an after school assignment. Reluctantly I head back inside, seeking out the cloistered comfort of the library to complete my studies in. As always, there will be plenty of time later for thinking. Just for giggles, I concentrate on images of the elderly in compromising positions. With a school like Mutant High, there's bound to be some fun to be had, though somehow I think the telepaths are inclined to disagree. A grin that would make the Grinch and the Cheshire Cat positively shake with envy works it's way up my face; this is going to be one hell of a semester.

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Lyrics belong to The Strokes' 'Red Light'.

Lyrics belong to Interpol's 'A Time To Be So Small'.