Thorn • Scott Summers

seventeen

Florence walked into Hank's lab, looking around.

"Charles said you needed me, what's up?"

Hank turned around, pushing his glasses up. He smiled at her, waving her over. "He told me something changed."

When she got closer, he tilted his head in surprise. "There is something different," he said, examining her face. "Your eyes?"

She nodded. "Happened during my outburst yesterday, I guess."

Hank hummed in thought, then abruptly turned around. He went to a filing cabinet against the wall and pulled out the bottom drawer, hunched over and running his fingers through files. He pulled out a folder and looked through the papers inside it.

"This can be common; a change in something physical. In times of high stress or intensity, that is. I'd say that's the case with you."

"So it doesn't affect anything with my mutation?"

"Usually, it shouldn't."

Florence nodded in acknowledgement.

"Oh! By the way, I have something for you."

Florence tilted her head. He walked over to another table, out of her sight. Seconds later, he came back holding a black garment and something clutched in his other hand. He handed the clothing to her, and she held it up.

"A suit?"

"Charles told me to make you one. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but..." he said, whispering the last part. "You guys are all training together today."

"Wait, what?"

"In the danger room."

Florence raised an eyebrow, shaking her head. "Remember the last time I was there?"

"That was Raven's fault, honestly. No one will throw any plants this time."

He held his other hand out, unfolding it to reveal two bracelets.

"You'll be doing that."

Florence grabbed the bracelets from his hand. They were dark green and a thick width, and made from some kind of hard plastic, like Scott's glasses. There was a slit opening on them, and Florence felt slight energy from them.

"Wait, what's in them? What's the slit for?"

"There's soil on the inside. You can grow anything from it. Vines, stems with thorns, et cetera, et cetera."

Hank grabbed them from her again, pulling them apart to open them. She held her wrists out and he put them on, clicking them back closed.

"Your suit has pockets filled with these," he went to his desk, grabbing a container filled with something that looked like brown marbles. "They're filled with soil as well. Throw one on the ground and it cracks, or in your hand, or with your power, you know. So if you're someplace that you can't grow anything, you've got these." He held the container up, examining the small contents. "Sort of like magic beans."

She stifled a laugh, grabbing the container from him. She plucked one out, crushing it in her hands. Soil filled her hand and she grew a small stem from it.

"How do you think of all of this?"

Hank stood, shrugging. "I don't know, it just comes to me, I guess."

"Well, however it happens, keep doing it." She patted his shoulder, and he grinned. Gestures like these were rare with Florence.

"Charles said your training starts at twelve."