Thorn • Scott Summers

twenty four

After her talk with Charles, Florence had been sent to Hank's lab to get patched up. On her way over, she earned more looks than she could count from students in the hallways, and it seemed like they all moved out of the way to get away from her. She rolled her eyes, but at the same time it bothered her. As if she didn't already have a bad reputation at the school, the fight from earlier had solidified it.

Upon entering Hank's lab, she saw him with a younger student who was on a stool. Florence noticed a red scrape on his leg, and she figured it must've been from a fall in the various playground games the younger ones had outside. The child noticed her in the room before Hank did, and tilted his head at her entrance.

"Woah, what happened to you?"

Hank looked up and saw Florence. Her lip was busted, a light black eye was forming, and she looked like an overall mess. She stared at the kid whose name she did not know, nor mutation.

"It's not as bad as it looks," she said, her voice quiet.

"I'm Barry," the boy said, and she smiled.

"Florence."

She leaned on another table, waiting for Hank to finish healing the boy.

"Wait, are you the Florence that grows a bunch of plants when you get mad?"

Hank stifled a laugh, to Florence's surprise. She shook her head lightly, chuckling quietly at the notoriety she had gained. "Yeah, that's me."

"Awesome!"

"Okay, Barry, I think you're good to go," Hank said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Doctor McCoy!" He said, standing up. He headed to the door and waved good-bye to Florence.

"Bye, Florence! It was cool meeting you!"

Florence waved back lightly, her eyes widened in amusement. She turned to Hank who had the same expression on his face. He patted the chair Barry had been in and she wobbled over, feeling again the pain that seared through her body. She pushed herself onto the stool, suppressing a groan from her pain.

"So, what's the damage?" She asked. He examined her face, his eyes running over her injuries.

"Busted lip, some cuts, and you do have a... nasty black eye forming."

"Cool," she replied monotonously, and he shook his head at her indifference.

Hank started grabbing glass bottles and other first aid supplies. Wetting a cotton bud with something from one of the bottles. He held it on a nick that she had on her nose, and she winced from the stinging. "Florence, why did you get yourself into that?" He asked.

She sighed deeply. "They said a lot of stuff. Horrible shit. My anger just kind of took over my rational thoughts."

"I thought you didn't care what other people say," he added.

"That's different- They weren't just talking about me, they were talking about the others, too. They called them freaks."

"You know, some people have claimed that word again, using it within themselves without a negative connotation."

"We're mutants, not freaks. I hate that word."

They were silent while he cleaned off the dirt and small amount of blood from her face, and when he moved on to for bandaids, she spoke up.

"Hank?"

"Hmm?"

"What's Anatoly's mutation?"