the department of mutant affairs

So this was the Rao Institute. Pete stood by the driver's side of his rental car, leant on the roof and studied the building. It didn't look like the pictures in the various brochures or on the websites. Well, no. That was stupid. It obviously looked like the pictures. The pictures didn't make him think that the whole place was just ever-so-slightly fucked-up, though. This place? Gave him goosebumps.

He fought the urge to light up one of his limited supply of Regal Kingsize, and went round to open the boot. Three suitcases were lifted out and arranged by the side of the car, and he absently wondered how much shit Betts actually needed. Then he was over at the passenger door, holding it open and looking every inch like an extremely worried boyfriend. Very aware of the two people standing at the front door watching them - and not-so-secretly hoping that one of them was the guy who carried the luggage- he held his hand out to Betts, then waited for her to take it and get out of the car. "You got everything you'll need, luv? All sorted?"