WHERE: Limbo; outside & cafe WHEN: Saturday; mid-afternoon WHAT: Mason & Dove meet face to face, chat, and grab a coffee STATUS: Complete VIEW WARNINGS: ridiculously cute people being cute.
It had been a few days since the incident with the new girl and even though he’d apologised to Dove for upsetting her - like fuck was he going to apologise to the new girl - it was still kind of playing on his mind. He wasn’t completely sure why; normally this kind of shit just rolled off him like water off a duck’s back, but it was coming up to the three month anniversary of his mum being murdered and his subsequent rampage and maybe he was just feeling a little fucking sentimental.
Those thoughts could fuck right off, if he had his own way but apparently even his brain wasn’t working for him right now. He’d seen Tony walking around earlier and had changed direction abruptly so he didn’t have to run into him. That was a series of emotions he really wasn’t ready to process either: had Tony been kept by their birth parents and he’d just been given up? That thought stung somewhat even though his mum had been one of the greatest people to ever walk the earth and his whole world had been a little darker without her in it. Being locked in this place without access to his powers was a shit, too, and certainly didn’t help. He found wandering through the dreams of others to be really relaxing, even if he didn’t do anything with them, just seeing what other people dreamed about - considering he didn’t dream himself - was a gift.
He missed his powers and he felt vulnerable without them. Even the newer ones, the shielding and illusions, he felt more comfortable having access to them even if he couldn’t really do much with it. It was enough to know that if someone randomly decided to try and punch him that they’d break their hand.
He’d never admit it aloud, God no, but he was also lonely. Mason missed his crew, he missed London, he missed people that he could talk to and trust and that wouldn’t judge him if he complained about something. He missed his mum, and he just missed having people who appreciated his powers. He liked life better before he’d been told - for sure - that he’d been given up and his twin hadn’t. He liked it better when he understood what the world was about rather than being thrown into this fucking chaos and expected to take it lying down and just swim with the current when he’d spent his whole life bucking against it.
He just- Ugh. Fuck.
Mason raked his fingers through his hair and thought about lighting up a cigarette but changed his mind at the last minute. He put a stick of gum into his mouth instead and huffed out a frustrated breath, kicking a stone and sending it skittering away.
As he watched it skitter, it came to a halt beside a blue and white converse which was attached to a jean-clad leg, which was attached to none other than the person he’d been thinking about before his train of thought derailed into swirling pissed-offness and self pity. At least, he was pretty sure it was her. She looked like kind of person who would be called Dove.
He cleared his throat and ducked his head sheepishly, hand raking through his messy curls once more as he offered her a slightly lopsided, shyer than expected smile.
“It’s Dove, right?”
Walking around the compound wasn’t a common past-time for Dove; she liked being inside, watching people, or she’d head to the leisure room and hang out there, see if Raven wanted to do something, or if there was something she could maybe sneak out of there, take to Juniper and have a little fun.
But every once in a while, a walk was good. It helped her clear her mind and just pretend that she wasn’t in some secret facility somewhere, out of school and missing her family and trying to make life work. She could pretend she was camping with her brother and sister, and they’d run off, because they always would, and she could be trying to find them in a great big wilderness.
It felt like that sometimes, despite having Raven there and making new friends, it felt like she was in this great unknown trying to figure out where home was, what way she should walk.
Hands shoved into her jacket pockets, Dove scuffed her feet while she walked, just as a little pebble bounced off her shoe and she noticed she wasn’t outside on her own. “Hey, yeah.” She’d tried to learn who everyone was, but had to give up when she realised it was impossible to do. So she learned her team, and then the people in her suite, because it was polite. “Mason, right?” She knew there was another one of them, twins or something, she figured that one out early on. But Tony seemed… less approachable.
Besides, she’d interacted a little more with Mason, although not face to face, enough that she felt confident that this was the twin she knew a little better. “Getting some fresh air?”
Mason nodded when Dove got his name right, hugely relieved on the basis that she didn’t get him confused with Tony. The guy was probably alright, he might just be an arsehole to him, but he still didn’t want to be confused with some idiot wearing his face. Anyone who spoke to the two of them would be able to tell the difference after a second or so, but it was strangely pleasing that she got it right the first time.
He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck again before clearing his throat. “Nice to meet you,” he offered, “face to face, I mean.” He hesitated before holding out his hand - social convention included a handshake. He wasn’t a luddite; he’d been raised properly. He just reserved his manners for people who deserved them. Or something. He was an arsehole to a lot of people but Dove hadn’t done anything to him that warranted him being a jerk to her.
Besides, it was time to try this whole… making friends thing. He’d started with Aidan, he wanted to make sure that he at least tried. Not everyone was going to stab him in the back, he had to believe that.
“There’s only so many times I can kick my own arse at table football before getting bored,” he told her with a little grin, having come to a halt in front of her. “You?” God, he felt like an idiot with such stupid conversation. “I mean- I was planning on wandering around aimlessly for a bit but… it’d be nice to have some company. I mean, if you’re not on your way to go see someone or anything.”
Shaking the offered hand, Dove found it really easy to put her troubling thoughts aside, smile sweetly at Mason and pay attention to the now. He’d been nice to her, first when she was trying to organise things for Juniper to have enough space, offering to help if she needed, and then after the conflict with Izzy and her power dampener, Mason hadn’t needed to give her the sweets, he hadn’t really done anything wrong, but it was such a nice gesture.
“Yeah, it’s not like you’re meeting someone down at the arcade or anything, right?” Planning to be somewhere with someone was different than here, just trying to find things to keep you occupied. It was why Dove was filling notebooks with poems and short stories she remembered, so that she could have something to read, a handwritten thing to read, maybe later she’d try and write out Raven’s favourite poems again.
“Just walking,” she shrugged her shoulders, “someone was really sweet and kind, and gave me a big box of candy, so I gotta walk around to keep from putting on a stupid amount of weight.” She was only teasing, poking light fun at Mason, but still very touched by the gesture.
“I’m not really needed anywhere, I’d like to walk with you.” Fresh air, it was good for them, company made it a little nicer too. “It’s weird how nice it can be, right? Just wandering around, not really going anywhere?”
“Nah,” he responded with a shrug of his shoulder, falling into step with Dove even though it meant he was walking back the way he’d come from. It wasn’t as if he’d been walking around with any intent or purpose, he’d just not wanted to be trapped in his room on his own anymore. He hadn’t been expecting to run into someone he actually wanted to spend time with, so this was a nice surprise. He wasn’t about to put it down. “It’s not weird. Lets your mind open up and shit,” he added, “clears away the fog of bad thoughts and can boost creativity-” looking away, Mason added, “or something, so I read,” so that it didn’t seem quite so much like he was using his own knowledge.
He chuckled, “Pretty sure you don’t gotta worry,” he told her confidently, “I mean, about having to worry about putting on weight.” He cleared his throat. “They work us pretty hard here, and all. But you don’t gotta worry, or anything.”
She couldn’t help the quirk of her eyebrow when Mason tried to brush off the information he shared, like he shouldn’t like being smart or something. Dove recognised that most of the time, in school, people didn’t like looking like they were actually really smart, like they knew more than others. Dove knew that she was smart, and most of the time she did know more than others, but she tried not to rub it in or make it a big deal. “I think that’s right,” it was, she knew that, “I like the change in scenery too. I guess I get a little closed in when I’m always in my room, you know?” Dove didn’t mind her own company, she didn’t mind spending time by herself. She knew that if Raven wasn’t busy she could just find her. And she was spending a little more time in the gym, working on her fighting, so that she could help people. But the days were really long when there wasn’t much to do.
“Wonder if they’d encourage our creativity here.” If she’d be able to get Marshall to agree to like a craft thing, getting people supplies to make pottery or paint or something. And then she was trying to think of JP in all his distant attempt to look ‘badass’ with paint streaks.
“They do, right.” Although most of her training was without powers, she didn’t really want to get into that right then, “I think you try fighting with Bear twice in one week and then I’ll be told I need to eat more for my energy’s sake.” Because that was a work out. “At least it’s not gym. I hated gym, climbing a rope like… why am I climbing the rope just to come back down the rope?”
“It’s pretty easy to feel claustrophobic here,” he agreed. There were only so many hours a guy could spend staring at the walls before he felt like he was going to be going insane. Mason had spent the first few weeks of his time here buried in his room, not wanting to see Tony because he knew he’d end up getting locked in solitary, and then by the end of the first eight weeks of being here he thought he was slowly going to go insane, crawling out of his skin.
The isolation - even being surrounded by other people - was the worst.
“Probably,” he said after thinking about it for a moment. He hadn’t picked up a pencil for months. After his mother’s death it just hadn’t seemed right. “They’d try and suck the fun out of it though, they’d make it mandatory and stand over your shoulder to tell you your drawing’s too New Yorker or something.” He grinned at her and then shrugged a shoulder. “But it doesn’t hurt to ask. Worst they can say is no, and then you’re in the same position you are now.”
He had to think about Bear for a moment, trying to work out which one he was. He hadn’t bothered learning the names of a lot of people, just their presence over the journal network. He tried to think, Bear was… “Is that the big guy?” he asked, “works out a lot, eats even more and shags his mates?”
He had a point, about asking for things. If she didn’t ask, she wouldn’t know. Raven had asked about access to college courses, and that would be something that they both would like, but it was hard to really see the point when the SEA had failed and they were all stuck in there for however long. Did it matter if she had the college education she wanted? Would her parents even pay for it?
There were too many questions there, and it would likely take forever to know one way or the other. Dove would be best looking for something else to do until then. “That’s true, and while I’m not working on powers or training, then it’s important I keep my my engaged.”
Otherwise she’d overthink everything in her life.
She honestly didn’t mean for conversation to turn towards Bear though. “Yeah, that’s him.” Although the end bit was still news to her, maybe that was just how some people treated friends. And while she held no judgement towards the way of life, it felt… It wasn’t her. “He’s been showing me how to fight, so that I can keep myself safe. If I need to.”
Mason shrugged his shoulders, watching her falter slightly and wondering briefly if he’d made a misstep again, but they seemed to be talking alright, so he decided not to think too much on it. He was still wrangling with his desire to apologise again for the fact that he’d thrown her for a loop kicking up a fuss with the new girl. He wondered if Americans felt the compulsive need to apologise or if it was just a British thing. He had a feeling he knew the answer.
“That’s good,” he said honestly. “It’s a good skill to have. Is he teaching you about fighting fair or the shit that’ll actually keep you alive when you’re stuck in the thick of it all?”
He wasn’t a teacher, god no, but Mason had been in his fair share of brawls, with and without abilities. His hand strayed to his wrist where he tugged a little with the bracelet that turned off his powers. It blinked warningly, assuming that he was trying to tamper with it when really the skin underneath was itchy. He hated wearing things around his wrists, it was why he’d never in his life worn a watch.
Mason wasn’t one to judge who was friends with who, after all, the people he’d run with in his past weren’t exactly friendship material. “Boredom is the mind killer,” he told her seriously, lips twitching up in the corner a little. “I know I butchered the quote but we ain’t exactly talking about fear right now, are we.”
He was curious, though, about her powers and what had been shut off. He just didn’t know how to ask. Plus he didn’t want to reopen any old wounds. He was pretty sure a box of sweets wouldn’t fly as a second apology gift.
“I really hope none of us have gotta keep ourselves safe,” he added. “Shit, this place is the equivalent of Adolux Huxley and Orwell’s brain babies.”
“Mostly how to use my size and lack of strength against someone, I mean, if someone like Bear did come at me, seriously, I’d be in serious trouble without my powers.” It was good that no one at Limbo seemed hell bent of messing with people, that no one was cruel or bullying. Dove managed to avoid it at school because she was friends with nice people and she wasn’t exactly unpopular.
She wasn’t entirely sure what the difference between fair fighting and stuff that would ‘keep her alive’, because weren’t they the same thing? Unless he was talking hair pulling, eye gouging sorts of things, like those rough housing playground fights. “I’m not sure if that counts for stuff that will keep me alive if I need it.”
She hoped it did, because that was the whole point of it. When her powers were on, she didn’t need things like that -between her light daggers and her concussive force, she’d be a danger to anyone -even her team mates. And that was partly the problem, wasn’t it.
But when Mason started butchering quotes and referencing Huxley and Orwell, Dove didn’t bother hiding the grin on her face, nudging him a little with her shoulder as they wandered, “I knew you were smart.” Because no one who didn’t read would know Adolus Huxley, and no one who wasn’t thinking 1984 and Animal Farm would equate this place with Orwell. “So, are we all smart, literary babies, or are we all out of some dystopian tragedy that befell the world?” It was probably a lot more of the latter than the former.
Mason was gently knocked to the side with the nudge from Dove and he rolled with it, laughing softly under his breath as she called him out. Honestly, though, normally he hid it a bit better. Ask the others on his team, ask Tony. He just didn’t want anything to expect anything of him and the best way to do that was to make them underestimate him. He’d learned that the hard way.
“We’re squished somewhere between Big Brother is Watching and being controlled by the D.H.C., mollified by soma,” he told her. “Not quite at four legs good, two legs bad but I think we’re probably close.”
He nudged her back a moment later, “Just don’t tell anyone I’m not as stupid as I look.” he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, lips curled up into a small, shy smile, “I got a reputation to keep after all.”
It was just about right the right comparison, so followed that perfectly. And while it wasn’t a ‘four legs good, two legs bad’ situation, it was very close to supers bad, non-supers good. Which could really be used for the whole thing too. “I think we’re getting there, with the SEA failing, people probably think we’re not even people anymore. We’re just… things.”
Certain animals had more rights than supers.
“I won’t tell anyone, although I don’t know why you’d wanna pretend to not be smart.” She didn’t get it, the ‘dumb’ rep, or even just playing up not being too smart. There were jocks who did it at school, like being smart made them unpopular or uncool. Dove’s entirely personality was shaped around how well she did, and she knew part of it wasn’t a great thing, but she was exceptionally proud about how smart she was.
“It can be our little secret though.” At least it would mean she could talk to someone else about this kind of stuff without worrying they wouldn’t understand her references or comparisons.
Uncharacteristic though it was, Mason slung an arm over Dove’s shoulders briefly and tugged her into a half hug. He was taken with the bizarre urge to kiss her temple but he didn’t, he just hugged her briefly and then let go because it was enough of an invasion of her space that could have been unwanted without any additional behaviour. He dropped his arm and then stuck his hands in his pockets, overcome with awkwardness with his own behaviour.
“You’re not a thing,” he told her seriously, “none of us are. Some people might buy into this bullshit a lot more than others but… but none of us are things.”
He might not have had the drive to fight for a lot, but he would fight for that. He was a person, they all were, and they mattered.
He wrinkled his nose, “Where I come from, it doesn’t pay to be smart. I like the idea of it being our secret though,” he told her honestly, nudging her gently again as his hands were still in his pockets. “Besides, I gotta keep some secrets to myself,” he added with a little smile. “Or at least shared with a few select folk.”
She didn’t really mind the half-hug. A lot of people around here avoided contact, and Raven was so careful about it now, given that the slightest touch would lead to a body swap, it was likely something that she tried to do as little as possible. So she just grinned broadly at Mason, making sure he knew she didn’t mind without having a talk -she didn’t think a feelings, boundaries or social cues discussion would be apt right then.
“Makes it easier for them though, right? It’s easier to oppress a group of people if you stop thinking of them as people. Black people were slaves, they were just a commodity that white people traded and bought. Supers are just weapons, stored and used and kept ready to be fired.” It seemed like the way many people were starting to think, and in some respect, some of the people in here, hidden away from the world and raised on the belief of these people, that it was safe here, that they needed the protection, that they were dangerous. It was propaganda, and they learned how that went in for Germany.
“How can it not pay to be smart? Smart people are in charge, smart people understand things better. They must’ve just been scared of smarter people than them.” She didn’t actually know a lot about Mason’s background, where he came from or what all happened to lead him here. It could be something simple like her, or something complex. It felt like the kind of thing people needed to want to share though. “But yeah, it’s kinda nice to just… know stuff that other people don’t.” Inside jokes were like that. This would be the same, just not a joke.
“Makes it easier for people to swallow that they treat us so badly if we’re considered second class citizens,” Mason agreed, kicking a stone and watching it skitter away from them, disappearing off the path and into the grass. He wrinkled his nose again. “Never was any good at footie,” he shared as if that explained the terribly trajectory of what he’d just kicked.
The whole situation was a mess. He would have wondered why the American public swallowed it, but thinking about the current mess the world was in? It was hardly difficult to comprehend. People were fed on hate, fear and false information all the time, drip fed like an IV. Mason caught himself before he started wandering too far down that thought path, though, because he’d get stuck in it and had no desire to sound like the others in here - like JP and Alejandro - spouting like fucking prophets.
“Firstly when you’re on benefits, no one thinks you can be smart,” he told her, “treat you like shit and like you’re a drain on the system cause your mum’s struggling.” His voice caught a little when he said ‘mum’ and he cleared his throat. “Anyway, the people I fell in with didn’t give a shit about brains, more about what I could do for them. And how we worked as a team. ‘Sides, the schools in my part of London were pretty shit too.”
He rubbed a hand through his hair, “You, uh- wanna go get a coffee or something? Do you drink coffee? I think the coffee place in the cafeteria does hot chocolate and tea too. I don’t get the big fuss about coffee, or tea, to be honest.” He snorted, “Somewhere, thousands of tea cups from outraged Brits are smashing to the ground as we speak.”
The attempt to limit them, not just in powers, but in rights, was one that had to be started early, and Dove had been part of those history classes, talking about the birth of Supers, how they were wrong and bad. How nature had gone wrong somewhere and these people were the outcome, how they needed to be contained and controlled, and how that was a great achievement by the American government.
But places like Regiment were never brought up, they never mentioned that Supers were being treated like objects to be used, that the safety of the country, the world sometimes, was relying on Supers and their help. No one brought that up, ever.
“I have no sense of direction. My coach at school was always saying I’d get lost in a wet paper bag.” It was why she didn’t play ball sports, after the second time she’d thrown a ball into someone’s face and broken a nose they stopped picking her for teams anyway.
But the remarks about benefits and his mum, that made her take a more serious approach, grabbing his wrist with her hand to give it a squeeze, “No one around here will think like that, circumstances don’t determine who we are.” She figured that benefits were like the state assistance stuff, lower class working people needed the help, and London sounded like it had some rougher areas than the tourist boards tried to let people know.
They hadn’t walked terribly far, but it wasn’t like the place had acres of land to walk either. And inside might be a little cosier for talking. “I’d like that, yeah. I’m more of a hot chocolate girl, I tend to not need coffee too much.” She hardly needed extra stimulation. “You’re an affront to the British people. Just as well you’ve been transplanted to America, huh?”
Mason snorted, “Direction’s overrated, love,” he told her with another gentle nudge to her shoulder with his own. “Besides, if you and I get outta here, I won’t let you get lost.” He shrugged, “Though… how’re you with parkour? Tends to be my favourite way of getting around. Good at helping you lose people you don’t want following you.” Like the police. He’d done that a lot.
He wondered if Dove had ever been in trouble with the law before. He assumed not; she was the type that would have looked down on him back in London probably for his behaviour and associates as much as for his benefits status. He knew that was an unfair assessment: she wasn’t actually one of those girls but back in London she might have been. He found himself glad that he was meeting her here, that at least here he was only judged for having his powers off and being a bit of a dick to most people.
“Hot chocolate’s my drink of choice too,” he told her with a pleased smile. “C’mon,” he took the curve of her elbow with his hand and led Dove towards the cafeteria, where the small pop-up coffee shop sat in one corner. “Coffee tastes way too bitter and tea is just… leafy water.”
When she called him an affront to British people, he laughed - and then looked surprised at himself for actually laughing. He felt like he hadn’t laughed in months. It felt nice.
“I just gotta find some kind of American tradition to fuck up here,” he told her with a wink, “something that’s precious to you guys that I can not wanna eat, and then you guys can kick me outta this country too.”
If Dove was asked to do parkour, she was almost sure she’d fall over something. She wasn’t completely pathetic, she was coordinated enough to manage on the cheerleading team, she was fairly athletic, it was just organised sports that she really sucked at. “I mean, I can run, and jump, I’m not sure how great I’d be at jumping over things while running.” If she were honest, it was sweet that he was even thinking about them getting out, escape or release. She was pretty sure it was a pipe dream right now, but there was no harm in dreaming.
Heading inside, enjoying the slight up in the temperature from the cool air of outside, “Leafy water, I like that description.” It was more polite that what some people called it, so she really preferred it. “I like hot chocolate because you can make it suit your mood. It can be sweet, or bitter, it can be sharp or creamy. And any drink you can put marshmallows in? That’s a win.” She didn’t really have a preference for putting the flavourings in her drink, but she liked to try them out when she’d been able to. Starbucks was grossly overpriced, but they had some very inventive and creative drinks.
“Thanksgiving, or Fourth of July. You can either lord about the true origins of Thanksgiving while everyone wants to pig out on food forgetting the massacre of an entire race, or just point out how stupid the whole Independence Day thing is, and that’ll probably get you blacklisted.” Dove was mostly joking. Except about the Thanksgiving thing. She never joked about that. Even when her mother got mad at her for bringing it up during their Thanksgiving meal.
Mason chuckled, “Tea is just hot leafy water, and coffee is just hot bean water.” He shrugged, “It’s the truth, and I just don’t get it. It tastes gross. Maybe that’s ‘cause technically I was born in Louisiana? So I’m not officially a Brit. My adopted parents were.” His smile faltered just a touch at the mention of his parents, a sadness flickering across his face before he caught it and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I just put a shit ton of sugar into my hot chocolate, I guess I just have a really sweet tooth? Cream on the top and like, nine sugars. Though you guys have the weirdest sugar- uh- pourer things. Like the ones at Starbucks rather than little sachets.”
Once they were inside, he nodded, “I’ll think about which of your sacred traditions I want to customarily get my hate on for, but while I’m doing that- you wanna grab us a table?” He tipped his head at her, that soft smile back on his face again, “Hot chocolate is my treat; whaddya want?”
She wanted to ask him about his adoptive parents, and his birth ones, wanted to ask if he knew anything about the birth ones or if he’d looked for them, but it sounded like it was still a sensitive subject, so she didn’t want to pry. Maybe later, when they had their drinks and were settled, she could ask. “Maybe some people just aren’t meant for coffee and tea?”
Sweetness was something she liked, the package of all kinds of candy was pretty much perfect for her because when she got peckish, a little bag of sweets was good enough for her. “Yeah, those dispensers are super weird. The little sachets are better, it’s easier to know how much you need.” And you didn’t need to work out how long to count and pour for.
“Okay, um, just a hot chocolate, normal one, and maybe see if they have any marshmallows.” She wouldn’t hold out hope, but it’d be nice to make little faces on the top with them before drinking. She gave Mason’s elbow a squeeze in thanks, already thinking of the next time when it could be her treat, and went off to find a table with a nice view of outside. No reason why they had to sit and stare at all the other agents and the walls.
Mason hummed in response to some people not being made for tea and coffee. She was right, but oftentimes when someone realised that he didn’t drink tea or coffee it was followed by an aghast expression and someone jokingly checking his temperature. The last person to do that had been quite quickly slugged across the face.
As she gave him her order and squeezed his elbow, Mason fired off a salute and a wink, moving away to go and place the order with the person behind the counter. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he’d ask when he got back if she wanted him to grab her anything from the other side of the room. She might have been peckish.
It took a few minutes and more than a little negotiating to get double the normal amount of marshmallows but once he had been successful, Mason carefully walked over to the table Dove had found, sugar dispenser between two tall glasses of hot chocolate. She hadn’t mentioned wanting cream, so his was topped with a swirly foam for him to stir in, but hers only had the tiniest little bit on the top.
“Two hot chocolates, milady,” he said as he put the tray down on the table. “Along with sugar, extra marshmallows and the added bonus of long fake-silver spoons for stirring.”
He didn’t take a seat immediately, glancing over his shoulder and clasping the back of his chair. “You want anything from over there?” he asked, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. “Like cake or anything?”
Extra marshmallows, that was just living the dream right then, “Oh, posh spoons and fancy glasses.” Not that there was anything fancy about the glasses, “If we pretend hard enough, we could imagine we’re just in any old coffee shop, sight-seeing through the grassy outback.” Yet more fantasy’s sure, but there wasn’t a harm in it, and Mason was doing wonders for perking Dove’s mood too.
“Hot chocolate and marshmallows are totally okay,” and there was sugar and a little bit of cream, perfect. “I have to eat in spurts, I sort of trained myself into it while I was studying, and it’s just carried over since, like forever.” It was a poor calculation on her part, and while she was most definitely not suffering an eating disorder, her eating habits were odd at times. She hadn’t realised it was part of a power set she had, because endurance levels weren’t really easily seen.
Now that her powers were primarily in the off position, she was dealing with not having that endurance and eating in oddly spaced intervals. Thankfully, there was a little kitchen in the suite that she could bake in, and Mira had a habit of making a point in keeping food on the go almost all the time. “So this is pretty much perfect.” Except for the Limbo part, but Dove was getting used to that too.