Episode: 4.1

--- Solaris Grey ---

“On to the next order of business…” The woman in the magenta sweater began.

(More?) He whined internally, only because doing so verbally would make this whole… thing longer.

“Regarding the recent incidents involving…”

His eyes drifted down to the brownies on a paper plate in front of him, the really shitty brownies.

(You know I appreciate the thought, really, I do… but I’d appreciate it more if they just got some generic store brand, even the shitty worse-than-store brand, rather than trying to bake, when they. Can’t. Fucking. Bake!)

The woman in the magenta sweater sighed, before giving him an irritated look. “You’re thoughts, Mr. Grey?”

(I really need to remember to bother to remember the names of these people…)

He was smart enough not to say that out loud.

He really wanted to though.

“About…?” he asked, since the majority of his thoughts at the moment involved mind-numbing boredom and killing the annoying people at this meeting in the confines of his head.

Someone laughed, he was pretty sure it was one of the more annoying people.

Magenta sweater inhaled deeply, before exhaling slowly, visibly restraining herself.

“We were just discussing the recent incidents around the school involving the local rift phenomenon.”

He blinked.

“You want my… scientific opinion?” he tried to clarify, since he still didn’t quite understand what they wanted, after all the local rifts were fairly tamed compared to the global scale. Sure, they were pretty frequent, but (still fairly tame in comparison.) So, with that knowledge, his scientific opinion on why they were so common was the only constructive thing he could really contribute to the topic.

Magenta sweater did not bother hiding her glare this time.

It was actually kind of cute… (when you ignore her rampant case of bitchiness.)

“No, I was asking about your thoughts on…” Magenta sweater seemed to visibly restrain herself from her initial description, “the local mask group?”

(Ah, that’s why she’s talking to me…)

He sat a little straighter, made himself seem just a little more professional, as he channeled his inner Alastair.

“Well, in my most professional opinion,” he paused, noting the undivided attention everyone was giving him, “can we really call them a mask group if they don’t wear masks?”

A few of the parents snickered, the rest however seemed to glare at him, both acts only making him grin all the wider, something Alistair rarely did.

(This lot should see a Deadman, or Malcontent’s glare, if they want to see how it’s really done. I mean their eyes aren’t even glowing!)

“So, you have no intention of keeping those… children in line?”

Something about that line, irked him.

He met the woman glare, before forcing himself to take a calming breath; he’d dealt with worse people than some woman in a tacky sweater.

“Look, monsters and criminals come out of half of those Rifts, and attack people. ‘Those children’ as you put it, do everything they can to try and help those people.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “Those children should wait for Sanctuary to come and handle the situation, rather than risking their own lives to deal with such a threat.”

He’d had arguments like this before, and he didn’t mind it so much when they were advocating protecting the kids playing ‘Good Guy’ as it were. Plus, he knew her family had just moved to town a few months ago, so, he could force himself to keep calm as he explained why that was a bad idea.

“Okay, I understand your concerns for the kids’ safety, I do, but you have to remember Graceful Hills is a Haven town, Sanctuary keeps their… assistance to a minimum, and they don’t put as harsh of restrictions on our kids, something a number of us were willing to trade for.” A number of the parents with Deviant children, or whom were Deviants themselves nodded in agreement.

The woman paused, considering her words before arguing a different point, “Perhaps you’re right about Sanctuary, but there must be at least a few adults whom are licensed to deal with Rift threats in town, and they should be the ones to deal with them rather than children.”

“Look, in order to get a license like that, a person had to have a number of hours signed off. If a few of the kids who know how to handle themselves and have their parents’ blessing as well as the approval of people who are actually licensed to deal with these threats, then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem with that Mr. Grey, is that when these children fight the Rifts, while unlicensed, these same children are not only a threat to themselves but the community around them as well, and to let them continue to do so is irresponsible as a parent.” The woman glared at him.

(Alright… I tried the ‘nice guy’ approach.)

A hand ran down his face, before meeting the woman’s glare, with his own apathetic stare.

“Maybe on some level they are a threat…” he admitted, because (damn straight my kids are a threat,) “but they’re still less of a threat to people than your brownies.”