Frederick had come over to the Haven today, supposedly to check on his car. The truth was he wanted to get away from Omega base, and these days any excuse was as good as any other. He could barely stand to be among normal humans, because the guilt of what he had done threatened to choke him whenever they were around. So, he'd spent most of his time around Mutant Town, hiding from his teammates, his shame and his guilt over his actions. It was there that he had met Nicholas, an émigré from Monaco who was one of the Haven's most recent refugees. His mutation consisted on the ends of his extremities looking like glass in which the night sky was trapped. They felt like skin, sort of, but very smooth and tough like sealskin, and the "stars" underneath were alive, pulsing and moving around in the dark spaces between them. Nick could make the stars light up and glow brighter until his hands and feet were like pure light beacons at will. Sort of. He wasn't yet in full control of his ability. After the fiasco that had been his second outing ever as an active operative, Frederick simply thought that it was a blessing to have an ability that was limited to bringing beauty into the world, unlike his hands that could only fight and kill.
He had also come to the Haven to see Nicholas, and perhaps take a drive somewhere, maybe find a Bed & Breakfast and drive back in the morning through the beautiful upstate New York countryside. The trees already had their Fall colors, so it should really be a treat. However, Nicholas was late in meeting him, and Frederick got restless, so he decided to stroll through the grounds until his new friend showed up. That's when he saw Kurt, looking sleek in his sparring outfit. The indigo furred mutant was surely a creature of the night. His coloring and bright yellow eyes gave him an aura of danger and majesty in the dimming evening light.
"Hey, there," he called out. Seeing Kurt with his swords made his pulse race, but Frederick had taught himself to be the kind of man who jumped in the deep end to face his fears. He had gotten over his fear of cars with a vengeance, even after the horrible accident that left him a cripple for years. He could do this too. Maybe he could find a way to look at his mutation again as something other than a source of death. What better way than to try and have some fun with it? His right arm elongated into an elegantly curved scimitar. "Care for a spar?" he asked, going through the motions of a semicircular parry.