Beginning with the Basics, Open

[Raiden]

Domerin's silver-haired assistant couldn't help but smirk at Quentin's terse demand. He recalled a time, many years ago by now, when he had asked his sister the same question after she stood by and let him foolishly challenge the Ikeda family's eldest. Asako was, in his mind, the only one who ever really treated him well, and it seemed like a betrayal at the time. Now, what she said to him back then rushed into his mind as he thought of an answer to the other teenager's question, and they seemed like the most appropriate response. "If we warned you, you might have backed off this time, but you wouldn't have really learned anything. Right now, you understand the real price of recklessness. You can't help but understand it: you feel it in every muscle of your body." It sounded horribly deep, though Kuro hadn't meant for it to. He didn't think of himself as a very profound person, and to be honest, he knew others definitely shared that sentiment.

Grinning broadly, Kuro clapped Quentin on the shoulder and led him to another spot on the mats where they had plenty of room to work. "Come on, let's get back to work before Professor Pain comes down on you again. I can tell he enjoyed that a little." Now he was just trying to spook the poor guy. "Now, I'm not as good at this as the majors are, but that doesn't mean you can let your guard down. Always remember that strength and speed of body are important, but speed of thought and perception are even more. Major Lorcasf didn't beat you by out-racing you back there, he beat you by out-smarting, then out-maneuvering you. The most important thing to learn right now is how to spot an attack before it comes." Kuro's feet spread apart, and he eased into an offensive stance with his practice sword raised. "Keep your eyes on my shoulders, not my weapon." Kuro started the series of strikes off slow, giving Quentin a few seconds to get used to the rhythm of strike-block-strike-block before he started to pick up some speed. Just as his partner was getting used to the ebb and flow of their practice, however, Kuro suddenly broke rhythm and aimed a sharp under-arm slice at Quentin's right hip.

[Tag]

/Did he believe that?/ Not one bit; true, he DID now know that high speed wasn't a sure thing in a fight, but he REALLY would'a loved hearing that pre-fight advice. Like don't HAVE the fight to begin with. Q was like Bugs Bunny after he got a wad of TNT in the face. Similar facial expression, minus the blackened, charred visage [and sudden Negro ballad]. Quentin would allow those pearls of wisdom to shine for a moment, before restating in clear terms. "....I'd give you a head start....but it wouldn't do ya much good would it...?" Q wanted to murder Kuro! But didn't. Instead, he conceded to being led to the area of the mats where those two were instructed to practice with each other.

Q followed him slowly; as he said, he felt it. In EVERY muscle in his beings. Electric shocks tended to leave a nasty buzzing sensation in a human being. Thus his normally infamous pace was lessened by the soreness of his muscles; however, during the stroll over he managed to ask of Kuro. "So....other then being a Japanese Yoda, whats yer story? What's yer Ascendancy?" Q took his stance when Kuro adopted his, trying to take what just happened and learn from it. "....Right....see what's comin'....react before it happens..." And don't use his speed! Which was like a fish NOT swimming through water.

At first, Q dealt with all the strikes with relative ease; Kuro wasn't doing anything to funky or crazy. It all seemed rather mundane....until he suddenly altered his course and hauled off and whacked Q in the hip!! "OW! Dammit, ya Japanese.....idiot!" He was trying to match his ethnicity with the situation that just occurred and ran out of humor. So that would have to do for now. "I don't think it's just the Major who enjoys beatin' up on me!!" Why was everyone picking on Q now? He readopted his stance, and this time, was gonna focus on everything Kuro did. And, perhaps whack \his hip right back!\

[Shiv]

Despite the fact that Sean wasn't one of the people in the room that knew Domerin and Oversoul were one and the same, he nonetheless took a couple steps back when Kuro guided him to do so before the fight started. After all, Kuro and the Major seemed pretty buddy-buddy, at least to a point, so Sean could be fairly certain that doing more or less exactly what the Japanese kid did was probably in his best interests. Also, again in the vein of thought where he didn't know that Domerin was Oversoul, he was pretty sure that Domerin either was a lot like, or perhaps just was, a samurai. When Domerin went to the rack and grabbed a second practice sword, Sean took yet another step back. He couldn't help but feel mildly responsible for this, and think that if he hadn't been standing across from Quentin, they never would have gotten into this mess.

The fight itself ended more or less the way Sean figured it would: with Quentin on the ground. Of course, the fact that the wooden sword that Domerin had attacked with was now zap-fried was something of a surprise. And Sean looked pretty surprised. When Quentin approached them again, Sean was still looking all freaked-out like at the sword. Then, he blinked a couple of times as Tag asked him something. "Huh?" he said, looking over at him. "Well, what was I supposed to say, man? 'Hey, maybe you shouldn't have a sword fight with the guy that's teaching you how to sword fight'?" He didn't have much time for verbal sparring with Quentin, though, as he was fairly quickly paired up with someone else. Fortunately, he knew the kid, as he lived like right down the hall from him. "Ricky from Accounting", he called him, because his name was Richard. And he was taking accounting. Just before they were about to begin again, Sean looked around, then leaned over conspiratorially. "I think Major Lorcasf is like Oversoul or something," he said. Ricky from Accounting, for his part, did not look impressed by that. "What? That's retarded."

[Oversoul]

Domerin gave his students just enough time to get themselves into their lines before he started to call out strikes. Many of the pairs fumbled through the first few strikes and blocks, desperately trying to get caught up to the pace he was keeping, but he was pleased to see that most of them fell into a comfortable rhythm after that.

As he usually did, Domerin flowed up and down the lines, gently correcting his students when he found them doing something incorrectly, doing his best to help them perfect the movements in the early stages, so that they would not get caught up when they moved on to more complicated training. He didn't expect anyone to do things perfectly at this stage in the game, and he was satisfied with the level that most of his students had reached. This exercise didn't seem overly complicated for them, and he was confident that, after a few days of practice, they would be ready to try some genuine sparring... though of course not at the level he had just demonstrated. That was still a long way off.

Though it didn't look like it, he was keeping a careful eye on his assistant and the young man he'd assigned him to work with. He had suspected that Kuro would be able to pick up on his intentions without him having to say anything, and he wasn't disappointed. If Quentin was anxious to get ahead, Kuro was the best one for him to work with. At least it would keep him out from under foot, as it were, and keep him from distracting the rest of the class with his desire for more of a challenge. If any student in this class was going to pose a challenge to him, it was Quentin. Then again, he wasn't just going to let the kid slip through his fingers because he was being difficult. He owed it to Quentin to make sure he got the proper skills before he got sent out to fight ascendants who would be able to do the same thing to him that Domerin had only a few minutes before.

He was certainly willing to let Kuro take things as far as he saw fit, so long as it wasn't really causing Quentin or the class any harm. He didn't think it really caused Quentin any harm either when Kuro's practice sword slammed into his hip - certainly he wasn't the first student in the class to miss one of the blocks. Somehow, however, he managed to be standing right behind Quentin when he made his comment - so that Quentin would once again miss the brief flash of amusement that crossed his features.

"The Major doesn't enjoy beating up on anyone." Domerin corrected him, though his voice didn't sound overly stern this time. If anyone in the room had known him well enough, they might even have caught the hint of amusement in his tone. "It just so happens that it's my job. Besides, that blow wouldn't have gotten through if you did what Kuro told you to do and watched his shoulders instead of his sword. It's the blocker's job to block his partner's blows, and you said you wanted a challenge."

It also just so happened, because he had paused behind Quentin at just the right moment, that Domerin caught the comment that Sean murmured to his companion, though he didn't give any indication that he had heard it. He did, however, pause long enough to give Sean a once over, once again making one of those assessments he had made on the first day. Sean may not have seemed like a formidable person, certainly he seemed down to earth, grounded and not the least bit intimidating. But he was clever. More clever than Domerin had given him credit for. He would have to keep an eye on that one, he had a feeling that young man was going to prove to be much more than he appeared to be outwardly.

He didn't pause for very long, however, not wanting Sean to catch on that he had noticed anything, and not wanting to give Quentin time to pick another fight. He swept forward again and continued the rhythm of called strikes.

[Raiden]

Kuro, being the good-natured sort of person he was, only laughed at his partner's indignation and the comments from Major Lorcasf it spawned. Words like the ones Quentin fired in his direction, especially words as uninspired as that, didn't tend to bother him. He knew all too well that practice sessions like these could become heated, especially in the beginning stages of a training regimen that usually involved beating some degree of humility into its students. The teenager had certainly reached the point in his own training where he'd been 'broken in' before it was terminated, and truthfully, he felt envious of Quentin rather than sympathetic. Major Lorcasf at least had a concept of 'mercy'. Learning how to fight with skill was going to be a lot easier for Q.

"It's better to get beaten up in here, in a training room with pads and practice weapons and per... paro... para... fast-doctors nearby, than in a real fight with someone who wants to hurt you seriously," the silver-haired teenager pointed out as they picked up the rhythm of strikes conducted by Major Lorcasf once again. Thanks to a certain theoretically-benevolent Greek dictator, he'd learned that lesson too. "You probably could have blocked that easily if you used your ascendancy. You are full of openings, but until now you could rely on your speed to stop anyone from taking advantage of them. But there are a lot of people out there, like the major, who might have the speed or sheer skill to perceive them.

"Being fast could be enough in 99% of situations, but all you need is to encounter that one out of every hundred opponents where talent isn't enough. In that situation, you need to fall back on the skills that you learned - and just like learning how to ride a bike, you're probably going to scrape your knees a lot."

[Tag]

\"....Ow, man....Sheesh..."\ Whilst going about rubbing his hip, as it throb more than he would have liked it too, the Major's voice rung out again, rolling Q's heartbeat back a notch or two. How the heck had he gotten so close to him?? Again??? He turned, and looked Oversoul in the face, his own showing an expression of surprise. "....!" Luckily, it was merely a pearl of wisdom his instructor wanted to impart, and not another charred sword. "Y-yes, Major...!" He was so flustered, he performed an unneeded salute, smacking himself in the forehead with the sword in his hand. "...Ow...!" Nice one, Q...

When that was over, he turns back to Kuro, a young man apparently as spunk-filled as he. It seemed the combination of youth and powers that afforded unique options for movement and accessibility created energy-junkies; where as Quentin could be on the shores of California in under an hour, Kuro could survive falls from low orbits like he were composed of cotton. What, indeed, would a partnership formed between these two be like? 100 mile an hour leaps that covered several miles in a single vault? Time would only tell. For now, Q had one thing on his mind. Smacking Kuro right back!

Oh, he listened to the speech given by a lad Quentin found easy to entertain. Nothing about Kuro was hard to digest, or a push-away. Hell, he even liked the guy a little. However, none of this would save him from Q's competitive nature. At the very mention of using his Ascendancy, an evil idea took form. "Yea...you're right. Before, I never had to think longer than a split second and undo anyone's attacks. And, I've been totaled before, but....not like that! .....Still, ya hit me pretty hard, so..." Q would invoke the one thing he wasn't supposed to...his Ascendancy.

Whack! Of course, that whack was dependent on how fast Kuro could react, and making sure to wait until Oversoul turned his back, and Kuro was well into a feeling of safety brought on by his own words, Q's wooden sword was sent to impact with Kuro's forehead with enough force to make him reply aloud to the sensation it caused. Yes. Quentin cheated. But, what was Kuro going to do about it?

Holding his sword while his face held a smirk, he decided to tease his training buddy over it. "...Gotta be fast, Yoda....!" This was either the start of a beautiful friendship....or a beautiful /prank war.../

[Raiden]

Even before he had struck the opening blow on the other man, Kuro was anticipating some kind of reprisal from Quentin. After all, he wouldn't just let something like that go of the roles were reversed and he was on the receiving end of a hard lesson like the one he'd just dished out. What Kuro wasn't expecting, though, was for Quentin to flagrantly ignore Major Lorcasf's number-one rule for these lessons and use his ascendancy to get in a quick shot. Even if he had predicted the underhanded move, Kuro would later doubt he could block it or dodge out of the way in time, so quick did his practice partner's hand and the wooden sword grasped by it come down that it seemed like a faded blur, a faint smear of colour on the canvas of his sight. The wood struck the teenager on the forehead with a sharp, echoing thwack!, and he was sent sprawling back from the force. Kuro reeled, stars exploding behind his eyes, and he felt his knees very nearly buckle under him until he managed to regain his balance. "Itatatatatata...! Shimatta!" he cried out in pain and surprise, and pressed the palm of his hand flat against a brow that now felt as large as a ripe melon.

[Tag]

/And, Quentin?/ What was he doing while Kuro was acting like an Anime character? Laughing. Not so loud that Major La...Lan....Ah, the only dag-gone Major in the room! could hear him. "Ya-ya even cuss like an Anime dude!" Quentin took his eyes off Kuro, as his head went back, and the sword holding hand came across his eyes. Which, considering Kuro's skill, was probably a bad idea. But, he did it anyway.

"I-I guess we ALL have lil lessons ta learn!" Would Kuro take that lying down? Quentin surely \thought so!\

[Oversoul]

What Quentin failed to realize was that little escaped the notice of Major Lorcasf in his weapon's class. He was paying very close attention to the actions of all of his students, even when he didn't appear to be. It was his job to find out where their weaknesses were and to help each and every one of them eliminate them and turn them into strengths. After all, if anyone in this class ended up on a combat team, they were going to need these skills and they were going to have to be able to rely on them, in any sort of situation, to keep them alive. That was a job which Major Lorcasf took extremely seriously. As seriously as any of his combat instructors had when they'd had to turn the young upstart Domerin Lorcasf into a well honed warrior.

He'd also been keeping a special eye on Quentin and Kuro... partly because he remembered what it was like to be young and knew that any youngster with a bruised ego was likely to want to lash out at someone for having received the bruise. His error in judgment was believing that said lashing would be aimed in his direction, rather than at another one of his students. There was no way he would have missed Kuro's reaction to that blow. The crack of the wooden stick on his head was enough to draw the entire class's attention, but Domerin knew for a fact just how skilled Kuro was; there was no way an inexperienced swordsman like Quentin should have been able to land that kind of blow on him.

But even if nothing else had managed to tip him off, Domerin would have noticed the laughter - it was quite out of place in his class, which was always conducted as an extremely serious affair. Laughing as he was, Quentin was unlikely to notice how the Major managed to cross the room so fast, he must have seemed some sort of speedster himself, though he wasn't capable of moving at faster than human speeds. One moment he was pacing up and down the room calling out the rhythm of the strikes, the next moment the only sound in the room was Quentin's laughter and Domerin was hovering over him, glowering down at him like a storm cloud ready to unleash an unholy storm.

"Get out!" He practically growled, a great deal of barely controlled anger seething just under his strained tone. The practice sword was practically snatched out of his hand - and none too gently at that. There was a no-nonsense, no-argument look on Domerin's face as he pointed to the door with the stolen practice sword. He was severely tempted to knock Quentin on the floor again for what he'd just pulled, but he restrained himself for the time being. He hoped the youngster would be intelligent enough to leave the room before Domerin did something he might actually regret later.

"This isn't a game!" He growled, his tone loud enough that everyone in the room could hear him. "You think something like that is funny? You aren't here to dick around! You're here so that I can train you for a genuine combat situation. Not only were you expressly forbidden from using your ascendancy inside my class, but you could have seriously hurt your sparring partner pulling a stunt like that. Get out and don't come back until you can learn to take this seriously. And be glad it's me because if you had pulled something like that in front of Major Barrow he'd have cracked your skull by now!"

[Tag]

\It was bound to happen\. Quentin’s youth, achieving what some many foes in the past had failed to; it caught up with him. Apparently, he’d been taking this class a bit too lightly, and went off and struck Kuro, a blow that wasn’t meant to injury him in any severe manner, but was illegal nonetheless, and unfortunately for Quentin, garnished the attention and disapproval of Oversoul too boot. Before he knew it, he felt the superior strength of the Major yanking the sword out his grip. Laughs ended abruptly, and he turned on his heels, ready to explain himself, but it was far too late for it. “…Major, I…!”

The hammer was dropped like whoa! Q’s face was like he’d seen a ghost. “….O-out…?” He repeated the sentencing like he couldn’t believe it. But, it was what he had coming, after all, and the humility of being yelled at made it sink in. Still, Q tried to speak on his behalf, but to no avail; the Major left little room for any rebuttals. He had Q dead to rights. “But, I…. I mean….!” The part about being cracked across the head by Legion was the nail in the coffin. He didn’t fear Oversoul, but knew better than to try and stand up to him when dead wrong. Legion, on the other hand, was a barrel of prime rib ass whuppin’ he was not about to even introduce into a dialog. He said nothing after Oversoul finished. Only turned to look at Kuro, with an apologetic expression; he was only foolin’ and didn’t think….his speed would injury anyone. He usually had great control over it. “….Kuro….I ….” Though too ashamed to say another word, head drops and he makes for the door, sheepishly, stopping once to peer back at Kuro, and the Major. Both of which he truly only wanted to be closer too at some point in his life. “….M-major….” But, there was no point, was there?

And, so, he vacated the class. It only took him a few minutes to leave the hall, then building, and then the entire institute grounds. Though he didn’t use his Ascendancy to; somehow, he felt like he’d used it enough for one day. So, where did he go? There was a park not too far from the grounds; he’d find himself there, seated on a bench, still in the training uniform. He looked like a champion that struck out and lost it all in one inning. He mumbled aloud to himself what he finally realized. “…..Stupid!” His skinny fist bangs the bench next to him. Now he saw what Major Oversoul meant about taking risks and doing things without thinking about them. And, he involved Kuro, as well; what if he did hurt him? He never stopped to think about that…. “So…..stupid!” The little Speedster beat /himself up over it…./

[Oversoul]

Major Domerin Lorcasf did not consider himself a hard man. A hard man was a man who was so set in his ways that he would not budge an inch, not even for the sake of family or family union.... not even to accept his ascendant son. A hard man was the kind of man who would try to kill his son and then bitterly fume over the fact that his son had not only failed to die, but had ruined his military career with his continued survival. Domeirn Lorcasf was not that kind of man - he wasn't his father - but he could be hard when he wanted to be, when he needed to be.

He wasn't a heartless man. One misstep wasn't enough to loose Quentin a chance at his good graces, or even a position in his class. Domerin didn't consider this a personal affront, the way Tag was likely to take being thrown out of the class. This was purely a disciplinary action between student and mentor. Quentin had to learn certain lessons, and it seemed that he was only capable of learning them the hard way. When Domerin's temper had cooled, and he was sure that Quentin had learned the lesson he was trying to get across, he would get his second chance at rejoining the class, if he sought it.

But the amount of time it took his temper to cool was going to depend directly on how badly Kuro had been hurt by that blow to the head. Domerin could abide by a youngster disobeying a rule, either because they didn't yet see the point to it or thought that nothing could hurt them or whatever other reason young people had. He'd been young once. He still remembered what it was like. But hurting another person by being careless or fooling around, that was something he couldn't abide by, not when it was on his watch and he was responsible for the people in the room.

He glared at Quentin's back until he was out of the room and far enough down the hallway that he couldn't see him any more. The weight of his gaze would follow Quentin that far and perhaps even further, as his eyes remained locked on the empty doorway for several seconds after the young man was gone from his sight. The weight of his gaze would help to bring the message home, if getting kicked out of the class still hadn't reached the part of the young man that Domerin was trying to get through to.

When his errant student was gone, Domerin allowed himself half a moment for a small sigh, then turned that terrible glare on the rest of the class. "Back to work!" He barked in a tone that suggested they better stop gawking and start at least looking like they were trying to work on their swings and blocks. "Start at number one and work your way through strikes and blocks in sequence. When you get to the end, switch roles and start over." He gave his students a long, hard look for a moment or two, until he was satisfied all of them had been spurred back into motion, then he made his way quickly over to Kuro and knelt in front of him.

With a soft sigh he lifted Kuro's hand away from his face so that he could examine the place where he'd taken the blow. He took careful note of the skin color and amount of swelling, then he peered even closer, his intense dark eyes peering directly into Kuro's, checking for dilation or mismatched size of his pupils. He knew quite well the symptoms of concussion and how to deal with it. And god help that boy if he gave another one of my students a serious concussion... I'll crack his damn skull so hard...

"You okay, kid?" he asked once he was finished examining Kuro's injury. "You still only seeing one of me? Remember your name, address and phone number alright?"

[Raiden]

With his thoughts and senses still addled by the blow, Kuro either didn't notice, or simply was unable to process, the heated exchange between Quentin and the weapon combat instructor as it happened. It was only when the door closed behind the brash student that he even really realized what had just happened in the wake of him being struck in the head. When Domerin knelt in front of him and moved his hand aside to examine the spot where the wooden practice sword had struck somewhere over his left eyebrow, the teenager was co-operative. By that point, the initial sharp stab of pain had subsided into a sustained ache and a constant, heavy pressure. A dull discolouration was already developing around the spot in prelude to a much darker bruise that would come later, and an angry red welt traced the precise point where the object and his head had made contact. Despite the colourful tapestry that the left side of his brow had become, though, there were no signs of concussion or serious disorientation; all he would likely need is an ice pack after the session.

The injury to his pride was milder still, and Kuro even managed an easygoing chuckle at the instructor's questions. "I still haven't gotten around to getting a phone yet. I'm fine, sir." A bit unsteadily, the young ascendant picked himself back up to his feet, though he made sure not to push himself too quickly in case the injury was more serious than he thought. "Don't worry about me, I know how these things go. This isn't my first time doing something like this. More importantly, you shouldn't be too hard on Quentin. There's always a chance of accidents like this happening."

[Oversoul]

It was only after Domerin was satisfied that Kuro hadn't suffered a concussion at the hands of the errant ascendant that he finally allowed the young man to rise to his feet. If Kuro thought he was going back to the lesson, however, he was mistaken. Getting to his feet at the same time as the young man, Domerin neatly imposed himself between the younger ascendant and the class going on behind him, positioning himself in such a way that the only path Kuro could take was the one leading to the door through which Quentin had so recently retreated.

"Don't you worry yourself about Quentin." Domerin said somewhat sternly. After all, who was the teacher here and who was the student? "Accidents happen, yes, but this one wouldn't have if he had listened to me. There's a reason why I forbid the use of ascendancy in this class, and your forehead there is one of them." He motioned vaguely in the direction of the colorful mark that had already begun to spread across Kuro's brow. "He's one of the ones that has to learn lessons the hard way. Trust me, I know how to deal with those. Now get yourself down to the infirmary and get the doctors to take a look at you, then relax for a few hours with some cold steak pressed against your forehead. You'll feel alot better."

Lest Kuro mistake the fact that he had been dismissed, at that point Domerin turned pointedly on his heal and went back to leading the class through their drills, calling out strikes and counters by number and correcting those who were performing them incorrectly. He trusted that Kuro could take care of himself, after all. His anger had faded somewhat, now that he knew Kuro wasn't seriously injured. But there was still the question, ever present in his mind and looming larger and larger as time passed... what the hell am I going to do with that kid?

The class wound it's way to it's natural end, and when Domerin was satisfied that he had worked his students all just hard enough that they would curse his name but wouldn't feel too horrible when the time came to return for the next lesson, he dismissed them to their own devices or whatever other lessons they had for the day. As for himself, his task was not yet completed, at least not for the day. With a soft sigh he made his way out of the training area of the institute all together.

A quick shower and a change of cloths later, the wind was flying through his unruly midnight hair as he sped down the streets of the city at about the same speed Tag usually took, though in his case it was the motorcycle underneath him which did all of the speeding while he simply enjoyed the feel of the wind brushing past his face. He had to admit that he didn't begrudge his search for the young upstart... partly because he would have wanted to take a ride anyway and partly because any amount of time on his motorcycle always eased his nerves. It didn't take him too awfully long to find the youngster however, and he was somewhat grateful for that.

Domerin didn't bother with being overly stealthy about his approach. If the youngster had looked around at the sound of the motorcycle pulling up to the curb and coming to a halt, he would have seen the familiar face of his dark skinned, dark haired instructor, but he did pull up behind the young man instead of riding around the park to a place where he would have been easily able to see his approach... he didn't want the youngster running off again. After all, he'd be awfully hard to catch at full speed. Once the motorcycle was safely parked, he reached into a pocket and pulled forth a cigarette, placing it in his lips and lighting it before he turned and made his way in the direction of the bench where the youngster was sitting. Inhaling deeply from the cigarette, Domerin settled himself down on the bench beside the youngster without even asking if the seat was taken and leaned forward to exhale a small puff of grey smoke.

"Kuro's okay." He said by way of announcing himself. He didn't sound angry, in fact his tone was quite casual. "He didn't have a concussion or anything. Just a nice bruise. I'm sure he'll enjoy showing it off to the girls as a 'battle scar' or something." He reached into his pocket as he turned to Quentin, exhaling another small cloud of smoke. "Smoke?" He offered, not really knowing any other way to open the conversation.

[Tag]

/Quentin/ didn't think he'd see the Major so soon. Partly because he was sure he'd want nothing more to do with him. And partly because he wasn't sure he could find the wherewithall to face him ever again. So, it was with a modest amout of humble surprise that he realized the Major was approaching him. And, he need not worry about him speeding off; his was too heavy a heart to carry at such velocities. No, Quentin remained on the bench, in shameful silence, as Major Lanscroft approached and sat.

The news of Kuro's recovery made his heart flutter. He surely figured it would be far worse than that. Luck, it seems, was with both Ascendants. The offered cigarette was declined. Naturally, Q held an aversion to anything that might affect or slow down his metabolism. If it wasn't a Redbull, he didn't want it. "No... I, uh.. don't smoke, Major..." And, of course, more silence. Seemed neither knew what to do at this point. However, a young man's wish to be forgiven at times bared a striking resemblence to bravery.

"....Major Lanscroft... I-I made a decision. I don't think I'm cut out for the Institute. I mean, if it wasn't for me, Kuro wouldn't have been hurt like that. I only wanted to show you and Major Barrow what I can do so... so you'd think I was cool, but... I only ended up looking like an idiot, so... so, I'm just gonna leave; you guys won't have to worry about me anymore..." Yet, there was a certain quality to his tone that seemed as if he didn't truly want to leave. But, guilt did strange things to a young heart. It was only with experiance one learned to contend with shame and failure, as well as rise above it.

"I guess I'm just gonna be another rich C.E.O...." He sighed. Oh, that's right. No one yet knew Quentin was the heir to Wright-Bright's fortune, chosen by a unanimous vote by the board of Directors; announced as such on Wall Street, some years ago. His secret life, of which he neglected to include on the entry application, loomed over him. Suddenly, the little Speeder grew angry; his fist rose and fell, punching the bench between them in spite. "Dammit! I...I don't want to be some stuffy 'suit'! Skygate was supposed to help me prove to everyone that I can do more...! ...And, I blew it..."

Of course, Major Lanscroft would have to inquire to put the pieces /together.../