The start of something

Who: Medea and Porter
Where: Lakeshore, breakwall, Porter's house
When: night

The warning emails that were going around would've been nice if Porter had been on the list of those who'd received them. As it was, he'd simply gone into Friday night looking at it like any other. People were probably out partying, going on dates or getting drunk, doing plenty of fun things that didn't include him. He was used to the thought, Porter had resigned himself to his fate of solo Friday nights some time ago, but he never really looked forward to them. Why would he? They were always the same; dinner with his folks, a jaunt to the video store to pick up some movies and games for the weekend, and then solitary time spent working on his comic.

At least moving here had offered some break in that routine, in the form of a safe enough town to go for walks in. Back home, his mother had always objected to the idea, saying he'd get hit by a car or mugged. But Marquette wasn't Baltimore, so she'd only put up a little bit of fuss when Porter had grabbed his mp3 player and sweatshirt, and she'd given even less complaints when he pointed out his route. The lakeshore walk was easy and open, well lit by night and there were plenty of pay phones. Not to mention that Porter had his own phone on him. He wasn't sure why it was such a relief when he finally got out of the house, but the quiet disapproval of his mom and stepdad were bothering him. It was almost like he'd expected Carter to object as well, to ask if he was going to see Medea or warn him about her. And it was good that he didn't.

Porter had been quietly defensive over Medea for a day or two now; sharing less words with his stepfather than normal, trimming time off what he spent with his parents, and daydreaming about how that argument might go if he actually called Carter out. He acted like she was a slut, Porter brooded as he walked along the bike path, earbuds in and pumping music to his ears. He was expanding the problem far beyond what it probably was, but Porter liked the girl, he was defensive about her already. And she liked him! He had every reason to want to watch out for her, especially against things like his parents deciding they knew what was best for him. He'd put up with that for years and years, only to realize that they had NO idea of what he needed to be okay in life.

So, with his thoughts raging like that and gradually losing their frenetic nature against the cool, overcast night, Porter made his way along towards the harbor. Really, he needed to explore more of the town, but it was so picturesque and soothing down at the park that he just kept coming back.

Medea had gotten the note from Nate. Which was all fine and good, she supposed, but she was definitely a girl who didn't really like being told what to do. Particularly when the explanation given was not really existent. And animal attacks? Surely it couldn't be that bad, right? So, she was defiantly(even if it was only on a personal level and no one would ever know but her) going for a walk. She had on a long seventies-type coat, faux fur that she'd gotten from good will. It was great, with it's old style, big wooden buttons. Also, it was really warm, which was what she was looking for. Walking along the curve of Lakeshore towards Lower Harbor, she was eyeing the breakwall, and wondering if going out onto it might be a good idea. She kind of thought the view of the lake from being surrounded by the water would be interesting, and it granted some solitude. She stopped under one of the streetlamps, looking out over at it on the water, considering.

Thumbing through tracks on his mp3 player as he walked, Porter didn't notice Medea ahead of him where she lingered under a streetlight. Not at first, anyway. He didn't look back up until he'd found the track he was looking for, a smooth strum of music filling his ears as he walked, then stumbled over his own feet. She'd become unmistakable to him through a mix of fashion, poise, and his own infatuation with her... and there she was. Posing under that solitary light, looking out at the water like she was posing for another photo. He wanted to pull his phone to capture that picture, but he was too close to do it unnoticed, and it'd be creepy of him. One thing Porter didn't want her to think was just that; he could be nerdy or immature, but not creepy. "I swear I'm not stalking you or something," he called, tugging an earbud free and leaving the other, hoping the music would keep him calmer.

Looking around as she heard the voice, Medea was just a touch startled, but she covered well, breaking into a wide, pleased sort of smile as if she were immensely glad to see him. That, followed by a quick mock-cover, a gaze to the ground and then back up at him through her eyelashes. "Are you sure? If you were going to start, we could work on electronically tagging me, so it'd be easier for you." she teased lightly.

"Careful," Porter warned with a laugh, his cheeks warm from the smile she gave him, "All I'd have to do is get you a present. A phone or something, they all come with a GPS these days. You'd never know if I was watching... I'd be your own little supervillain." Wow, he was creepy. He knew it, that couldn't have sounded cool or friendly or anything. Porter grinned uncertainly and glanced down at his shoes, mentally singing along to the music as he tried to compose himself. And after six milligrams... he mused, breathing a little and glancing back to Medea.

"My very own supervillain?" Medea asked, walking over closer to him. "Does that make me a damsel, or a heroine?" she asked. "Or a damsel before I become a heroine?" she continued. "I've never had my own supervillain before. You're going to make a girl feel special." she warned in return, smile for him sweet and shyish.

He decided to try and meet her halfway instead of just standing there like an awkward goon, shuffling towards Medea along the bike path. "Well, it depends," he explained, pocketing his player and letting his earbud dangle, "Are you planning on defeating me? Do you want someone to save you from me?" Loaded questions? Maybe. "Maybe you're the girl who knows the supervillain and can stop him from firing up the doomsday device," Porter suggested, shrugging a little and stopping as he reached her.

"I hadn't planned on defeating you, but then, I don't know your dastardly schemes yet either. So, we'll have to wait on the full answer there." Medea told him, tone serious even if her lips were still turned in a light, amused smile. "I definitely don't want to be saved from you. You wouldn't hurt me. You're definitely not the type of villain who would want to hurt me. Maybe it's one of those things where we'd be eternally linked in together, dancing around one another because you won't bring harm to me, and I keep wanting to redeem you." she suggested. "Which would definitely fall into that whole stopping you from hitting the big red button of doom." she said with a nod. She leaned closer, and reached out to snag one of his hands. Bringing it up towards her chest, to hold between both of her hands against her heart, she looked him in the eyes. "Please, Porter...you don't want to do it. The world isn't so bad that it needs destroying...it just needs a little help. There are rainbows and summer thunderstorms, and kittens and snowflakes...don't destroy it all!" she said, a heartfelt performance as she put things into her voice like a light breathyness and devestated pleading. "You're the only one who can save us now..."

He was stunned, floored by the look in her eyes and the light grip she had on his hands, the soft pulse of her heart under his fingertips. Medea's words were just icing on the cake, stretching Porter's lips into a delighted smile that threatened to take in his whole face as he abruptly looked away, feeling his own heart start racing in his chest. "G-give me a second," he blurted, snagging the other earbud with his free hand and stuffing it back in, making no move to reclaim his held hand. She... she just... wow. He had to take a second to let the music soothe him as his emotions rushed and swelled, overwhelmed even if she was just joking around. When Porter looked back and freed up his ear, he was still grinning like a fool. "You.. uh, damn? You can act."

She smiled brightly at him then, though her face tipped down demurely just a little, her eyes going down to his shoulder before looking back up to him. "Thank you." she told him, sounding of course very genuine. Genuine, and pleased that he thought so. "I haven't gotten to have an outlet for it for a while, so a I have to find little ones here and there." she said. "And if I'm going to do anything, I'm not going to do it half way." she assured him. She was aware that she kept hold of his hand the entire time, still keeping it against her chest, but at that point she chose to make it appear as if she'd just noticed it there, and she let go, looking mildly embarrassed--but not entirely.

Porter's embarrassment flooded with Medea's, following the drop of her eyes and stepping a little closer to nudge her with an arm. "There's a lot to be said for commitment," he pointed out with faint praise, grinning more for Medea as he moved in closer. "I just hope I don't stop seeing you around once everyone else realizes how crazy-awesome you are." And it was a real fear, even if she'd been genuine and endearing and seemed sincerely fond of him. "Were you going to the Harbor? I could, uh, walk with you," he offered, nodding towards the empty parking lot, lit up by streetlights.

"I was actually eyeing up the breakwall." Medea said, pointing out towards it. "Want to come with me?" she asked. "I thought it would be really neat...sort of seeing the lake from being out on it." she continued. "And I'm not a boat person. What with not having money for one. Hey--do you or your parents have one? I know there's the marina over...there somewhere." she said, making a vague gesture. She'd seen it, taken note. "And you're not going to stop seeing me, silly boy." she added. "And thank you for the compliment, but I know I'm never going to be an actress. So, consider my talents just around for amusement value for those who care to indulge it."

"How do you know?" Porter asked, silently agreeing to the breakwall by swallowing his nerves, taking Medea's outstretched hand, and starting in the direction of the breakwall. "If you want to be one, you've gotta try, right? And you have talent, at least from what I've seen." Which, admittedly, wasn't much. But when you were smitten with someone, you believed they could do anything and everything. "But no, my folks don't own a boat. We went on some harbor cruises back east, but owning a boat out there is just... ridiculously expensive. Like, you'd better bleed money when you get cut."

She laughed. "Well, I definitely don't do that." she said, smiling at him taking her hand, and she laced her fingers through his, letting him lead. "And...I don't know. I just want to be a therapist. I don't know if I could ever really help anyone by being an actress. I'd probably not get to do the kind of projects I would want, and who wants to wind up another true hollywood tragedy?" she asked. "Plus, I couldn't keep up with the lifestyle of the cool actors and actresses. If I picked up a drug habit, I'd probably be dead inside a week, if I didn't drop dead from the first taste."

"Well, I'll just have to cast some other beautiful unknown when the Conduit gets bought by a movie studio," Porter teased, shaking his head at the ridiculous idea, "Coming to theatres in summer of never." But her statement was humbling, making him shrug a little and reach into his pocket to finally pause his music. Medea deserved nothing less than Porter's full attention. "I don't know how many people would rather pursue a real, beneficial career over fame. Most people would take the fame and say they'd help others once they were famous. So... yet another piece of evidence in you being completely singular."

She laughed softly, but she made it look like she really liked the statement, and she looked at him as they started out onto the breakwall proper. "Throwing money at charities and everything...it's good, don't get me wrong. I'm sure a lot of that money goes to help a lot of people. I would just rather do things on a singular scale. Not just...faceless people that benefit, I want to sit in a room with someone, and help them deal with their lives." she said, putting light conviction beneath her tone. Like she really truly believed in it. And in some ways she did. Her motivations were just different. She wanted to mess with people from the weakest point they had. Plus it would be entertaining to build them up, giving them coping skills for some things while undermining others. "...though if you did get a movie deal...." she added, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "I could possibly be talked into going in to at least read for a part. I'd probably ruin it if it was a big one though. So...Girl On Street Number Two...maybe that."

He watched as she spoke, the light breeze folding his hood in on itself. If Porter knew just how good of an actress Medea was, he'd be floored. As it was, that subtle edge of conviction, the real belief in her eyes? It was humbling and endearing, inspiring even. "And here I just wanted to draw pictures of guys in capes for money," he murmured with a light smile, realizing how trite his dreams for the future sounded against her own. But really, what could he do on that level? Not much of anything, freak, he mused as the rocks along the breakwall loomed below them. Some people were just meant to help; people like Medea, people who didn't think you needed a mask or heat vision to do so. "As for the movie?" he murmured, flipping through his phone to pull up the picture he'd taken the day they'd met, "There's my first promo image for the press releases."

"Annnnd drawing pictures of guys in capes is something that's very important too. it's part of culture. It's part of what forms a lot of people's minds, if they get into comics. So...I don't see what's wrong with that." Medea told him. She paused when he brought out his phone, and when she saw the picture of her, she smiled. It was a shy looking thing, but pleased. There was a dash of surprise and wonder to it as well. He looked at him a moment, and smiled again, eyes going down to the cement they walked on. "Now you're just messing with me." she said.

"Am I?" Porter asked with a shrewd grin. "When Sin City was coming out they did like nine different posters, each one was a single character. People loved them, too." And you shame Jessica Alba, he mused but couldn't say. "Maybe I'd try that in this fantasy where I got to make a movie. One of the Conduit, one of the Thirst, one of the as-yet unknown female lead. Gotta draw in all the other women out there, after all, since I think you're one of like five who's interested in this little world I made up." He looked away with that, staring out towards the path ahead of them and the gentle clips of wave slapping the sides of the breakwall.

Medea stopped and blinked at him, before she hurried to catch back up. "Female lead?" she asked. "Are you..." she trailed off, as if she couldn't quite bring herself to ask if she was going to be inserted into the world he'd made up for himself. Which really, was exactly what she wanted. It was perfect, really, and she hoped that he had indeed thought about it and intended to follow through.

He couldn't help smiling, thinking on the early reference sketches he'd done from both that one picture, for the close details about her, and from memory for her poise and stature. She was an excellent model for translation with her willowy build, and though he hadn't done it yet? Porter thought he could insert her quite neatly into the comic. "I'm just daydreaming," he told her with a wink, "I'd want to ask before I put you into a comic or something. But thusfar there's really only the two main characters, and I think people get bored of a villain the hero never manages to catch."

She laughed a little, though she made sure it was a cross between delighted and a little nervous. "Are you actually thinking about doing that? I mean...me? Or...some version of me, I mean i'm sure it wouldn't be actually me, or anything, and maybe just what I look like or something, I'm sure I'm not interesting enough to float in that world, where things are so...dramatic and exciting." she said, making it sound like she was rambling, even if all the statements there were fairly specifically aimed. There was just the lightest undercurrent of hope to the whole thing, though, like it was something that she kind of wanted but didn't want to get her hopes up about. Just enough self deprication to make him think that she thought she didn't quite deserve it in spite of the hope for it as well.

"Well, I've never tried writing women? And, uh... guys who write superheroines? They don't do so well, they're normally sassy-but-sympathetic? You..." he trailed, stopping to look at Medea, "You're more layered. Nuanced. I don't think I could capture you on a page no matter how hard I tried." The praise came with a hesitant smile as Porter stepped a little closer, nodding towards the distant end of the boardwalk again. Dramatic? Exciting? Okay, the second part was true, but it had to be in the world of superhero comics. "Maybe if I think I really get you, I'll see how you fit in that world. I know you're pretty great in this one."

Medea looked positively charmed. She looked down, then back up at him with a smile on her lips, making it clear that he touched her with his statements, and she greatly appreciated. She put out the impression that he'd done well, made her feel good about herself. "That's probably the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me." she said. "The sweetest sentiment. I--thank you." she said to him, and she leaned closer to give him a kiss on the cheek, though she made it closer to his lips than anything. Like she'd almost gone for a real kiss, but at the last moment wasn't sure enough of herself to complete the action.

It was close enough for Porter. He liked this girl, was pretty sure by now that Medea liked him. They were on a boardwalk in the dark of night, surrounded by the rush of the lake and odd glimpses of the moon behind clouds, it could have been a panel straight from Sin City. When she moved in, Porter forced the shake from his hands and slid one around Medea's waist, holding her there long enough for him to turn his head and make it a real kiss. A soft, hesitant one, granted, but a proper one all the same. Her lips felt every bit as soft as he imagined they would, and Porter couldn't help smiling as he pulled back a little, arm still around her. "...thank you too," he murmured, lingering like that.

Internally, Medea felt a little surge of triumph. Pretty much, she figured nowish, she had him. She kissed him back, and when he pulled back, she didn't immediately, hesitating just a second afterwards before she smiled at him. It was bright, happy, and she looked like he'd just made her world a better place. She didn't pull back at all from their stance either, letting him remain in close, wanting him to feel like he had permission there to do as he wished.

He didn't move back, or move much at all for that matter. Porter's face lit up with a warm grin; an extension of the little smile he'd had, eyes twinkling as the only move he'd made was one hand leaving Medea's back, reaching up to hook a lock of her hair behind her ear. He breathed deep, seeming like words were hanging just behind his lips, when he saw the police lights cutting through the darkness of the night off in the distance. Chalk it up to too many comics, but he felt like Spiderman in that moment; ready to dash off, pull on a costume, and see what the calamity was. But he wasn't a superhero, he was just a lucky guy with a gorgeous woman in his grasp and a delightful look in her eyes. So Porter blocked out his curiosity, that hand lingering with fingers threading Medea's hair. "I chose a good night for a walk," he murmured.

"So did I." Medea agreed, voice and tone matching his. She added an undercurrent of pleasant shyness, something she could 'get over' in time. She kept ticking her gaze away, then having them immediately tick back, like she was trying not to stare at him but she was failing. Then she just broke into a wide, sweet soft of smile, like she was struck by the moment again, and was still immensely happy with it.

The level they seemed to be sharing through looks, smiles, soft-spoken voices? It was wonderful to Porter, and Medea's soft smile bolstered his confidence. This was real, it was happening here and now, and for once he didn't feel shy or awkward or uncomfortable with himself. He drew her up towards him again, wanting to feel the smile she wore and share his own as well, kissing Medea once more as his fingers stroked the curve of her ear. It seemed too perfect, which of course meant that it was. The lights of a police car cut the night air again, this time echoing the wail of a siren as they streaked along the lakeshore, distant from their spot on the breakwall. Porter pulled back with an apprehensive glance after the lights, sighing as he realized that he was letting them interfere in this private little heaven. "Wonder what's going on," he murmured as concern flashed across his eyes.

Medea had kissed him back, but then followed his gaze towards the bright lights and sirens. "No idea...maybe a car accident?" she suggested, figuring that could be likely due to the icy roads or...something. She hadn't heard a crash or anything, though. "Or maybe the animal attacks are happening again. I heard something about it on the news..."

"Maybe," Porter agreed, sighing and shaking his head. He so needed to not be dwelling on all of this right now, not with her here and this stunning first step towards... whatever it was going to become. Porter didn't want to get his hopes up, but it was hard not to with Medea held close. "Whatever. Unless you secretly work for Animal Control? It's not our problem, is it?" he asked, looking back to her with a little smile and loosening his grip enough to move his arm around her shoulders. "C'mon, let's keep going. I think I want a picture of you at the end of the wall."

"If I secretly work for them, it's so secret that they haven't even informed me, so I think we're in the clear. I have deniability." she told him, smiling a little and letting him lead her again towards the end of the wall. She was good for it. Really, whatever was happening was a mere annoyance unless she could use it, and currently she couldn't.

He chuckled softly, starting off with her and drinking in the night air. Nothing could ruin this; the idyllic view, the first-kiss high, the feel of walking in stride with her. "Maybe you're a sleeper agent," he teased, "A robot animal control agent who's only aware of it when your protocols kick in. Heck, maybe you don't even remember when they kick in." Maybe she'll let you check for seams again, he mused, a blush creeping into his cheeks as he chided himself for even having that idea.

"You never know." Medea said. Then she hummed, musing. "Maybe if I was going to make an appearance in your comic, I should be a clockwork girl." she said thoughfully. "But then again I don't know if the idea fits in with your universe, but I could picture a storyline for it." she continued. "Could be a spirit trapped inside the doll, could be the doll spawned a spirit. Could be a confused, lost soul trying to find the right 'parts' to complete herself..."

He wondered faintly how he'd feel about the idea if he hadn't just been kissing her a moment ago, but since he had been? Porter liked it. He could see her in the world he'd created where there wasn't much definition beyond the hero and the villain he always pursued. "Okay... so picture it. She's standing in an alley, back to a wall, motionless. And there's a silhouette cast over her, like someone's watching, trying to figure out what she is. And... maybe her clockworks need to be maintained, they need a spark. So there's a hero who only ever fights with his power, and now? He can sustain too, maybe long enough for her to find what she needs." He smiled, liking the idea, the image of her in a panel in that retro fur coat. "Think I'll call it 'When She Sleeps'."

She smiled and looked over at him. "Yeah?" she asked. "I like the idea of the sustaining someone. Sort of...an alternative outlet, it would add another dimension onto things. Of course, there'd have to be tragedy involved somewhere. Like she can't ever quite be completed. It's not like the happily ever after ending of pinnochio where she'd suddenly become 'real', but that would have to be found out later, after a lot of trial to get that far, only to fail, and have to deal with the incompletion of 'life'."

"Would you believe I don't plan that far ahead?" Porter asked, musing on her idea. The tragedy angle definitely fit into the context of it all; a hero who had to kill to survive, a villain who represented the dark urges of the hero's own powers, what would compliment it better than a gradual realization that his powers could only help so much? "I mean, I love the idea, but if I do more than a few pages of scripting, I end up rewriting stuff... you could help, though. Do frameworks or something." Wow, get ahead of yourself much? he wondered, though he wasn't about to take the offer back.

"Frameworks?" Medea asked, looking surprised. "I'm not sure what that is, but...would you even trust me to help you with something like this? I'm just kinda...thinking out loud and everything, I don't actually expect you to do any of this...I mean, you obviuosly don't need me, y'know? You've done absolutely fine all by yourself. I think I might be afraid of ruining things..."

"It's all just ideas," Porter assured her, "You can't really ruin one of those until it takes a physical shape. So... maybe I'll just toy with some sketches for now, you can give me feedback? Like a possible story to try out down the road." Really, he wished his parents could've seen that. The type of girl they were worried about would be eager to get some influence in Porter's work, whereas Medea seemed panicked by the idea of changing it with her presence. "Whether I need you or not? I like having you around... in case you missed me finally showing you as much."

That had her smiling sweetly and looking down for a moment as they walked. "I did catch that bit..." she said. "But only if you're sure. I really--I don't want to intrude." she said firmly. "If you want me to give ideas, or just brainstorm, or just stand there in interesting positions so you can draw me or something, I'm all for it, but I don't want to do anything you don't want. And I definitely don't want you to feel like you have to listen or be obligated...that'd just ruin everything. So...how about we agree that anything out of my mouth is just me thinking out loud and it has no relevance to your work unless you decide to take it on your own?" she asked, putting into her tone that she was nervous about the connotations and wanted to be sure that she wasn't messing things up.

Porter smiled, stopping his progress as they neared the edge of the breakwall itself, leaving only the rough array of rocks leading out to the lighthouse. "I can agree to that," he told her, grudgingly slipping his arm from Medea's shoulders, "As long as you can give me honest criticisms of whatever I try to do. People online... they just sorta gush praise? And it's nice, but I need real feedback too. It's not a real thing yet, and it won't be if all I'm told is what they think I want to hear." He took a step back, digging out his phone and smiling. "But you said something about interesting positions for me to draw? So give me a good reference photo to play around with later when I'm wishing I didn't have to walk you home."

"I can promise to do that." Medea told him firmly, smiling and sounding honest about it. Then she grinned at him, and considered for a few long moments. "Promise me you won't laugh." she said, moving onto one of the rough rocks, boulders, really, and she first sat carefully, then laid down, letting her hair frame out around her head, the fur of the collar of her hood around her shoulders. He had one arm laid up to arc around her head but she didn't rest her head on it, the other was resting lightly against her ribs. Then she looked up at him. "Interesting enough?" she asked.

It certainly was. Unforgiving rock or no, Porter wanted to join her. Which meant that sometimes? Social anxiety was a good thing to have, since in this case it meant he just smiled wide and raised his phone towards her. "Absolutely," Porter murmured, moving closer to angle the phone down at Medea and clicking off a picture. "Don't move just yet," he went on, rounding one side of her and squatting to get another angle of the pose. He studied both photos with that same smile, eventually offering a hand to Medea. "I don't think there was anything to laugh at in there," he told her as he pocketed his phone.

She finally smiled when he offered her his hand, and she took it, taking the help back to her feet. "That's comforting." she said. "You realize that if you do draw something based on it, that I'm going to want to see, right?" she asked. "I mean, I can wait like a good girl til you're done, but..." she trailed off, looking like she was excited but shy over the prospect.

It was good that she was so light, since he wasn't a strong kid by any means. "You'll see it before the ink's dry and my scanner lid is open," Porter promised as he helped her up. Hell, he'd give her the original if she wanted it, though some people, Porter included, were weird about art of themselves. Medea could use it, though; he still wasn't sure how a girl like her could seem so shy and uncertain of herself at times. "So... did you want to keep going to the lighthouse? Hang out here? Can, um, can I walk you home whenever we head back?"

"I would love for you to walk me home when we head back." she said first. "But I'm not really ready to, quite yet. What would you like to do?" she asked. "How adventurous are you feeling?" she asked, looking out towards the lighthouse. "We could go out there." she said. "But we might want to do that sometime when it's daylight out. I'm not that strong a swimmer." And that was pure truth, there. She wasn't. Plus, if she fell on the rocks and hit them before she hit the water she could be screwed pretty fast.

"I just read about other peoples' adventures, I don't look for them myself," Porter told her, smiling a little and shrugging. "It's probably better to wait for daylight." He didn't feel up to repeating a dive-rescue just yet, after all. "We could just hang out here? Or go down to the harbor park, it's pretty nice at night." Of course, he was hanging out there plenty, but he had good reasons. Really, Porter was game for anything. It wasn't the surroundings he was interested in so much as the company. "If we do go for the lighthouse and you fall? I'll go all Aquaman," he added with a grin, "I'm a decent swimmer."

She laughed. "Well, I completely trust you to save me." she said. "Buuuut after growing up with a constitution like mine...I figure daylight is best. So...here or the park. I've walked past the park, it looks like it has a really nice playground." she offered. "And last time we hung out with a swingset involved, I enjoyed it."

"The park it is," Porter decided with a nod, "I liked that day too... best first day I think I could've had." Really, she was still the high point of Porter moving here, and without Medea? He'd probably be miserable with being stuck in this town. THere were little upsides, sure, but this was a big one. "And the playground's pretty cool, they have a big tire swing I think you need to be pushed in," he insisted, starting to lead the way back off the breakwall.

Walking with him, she laughed. "I like tire swings." she said. "So...sounds good to me. And you were very good at pushing the last swing so I have faith in your abilities in that capacity." she added. She thought she heard more sirens, and looked up as they were walking. "Is it me or is that another siren?" she asked.

Porter had half a comment formed when she pointed out the sound, and it only took a moment for him to hear the same keening of the siren. He didn't see lights yet, which meant it had to be coming from around the bend, back towards both of their respective streets. And the last siren had been going past the harbor, towards downtown. So it wasn't a car crash... "Something's going on," Porter murmured with a frown, "I should probably just get you home. If things seem okay, we could just hang around outside for a bit, but I don't want to take any chances." He didn't want to ruin things by being pushy, but in a town like this? So many police cars at this time of night definitely wasn't normal.

Frowning, Medea nodded. "...okay. You can probably come inside for a while...let's just get there first." she said, sounding far more nervous than she was. Obviously, something was going on, but she doubted it was anything to truly be afraid of. But, if Porter wanted to play hero? She was catering to that. Which had her sliding her arm around his, like she had every faith he'd protect her from the unknowns of the night.

And he did want to play hero. It was nearly reflexive of him to think like that in a situation such as this one, so when she took his arm he breathed a little easier. If trouble actually showed itself, Porter would have to confront the fact that he was playing the hero, but for now he felt good about how Medea leaned into him a little bit. "We'll get there okay, I promise," he murmured reassuringly, picking up the pace a little to lead Medea back to the bike path.

She kept in close to him as they walked, and personally was hoping they came across a grisly scene, or at least something he could 'shield' her from. It would go a long way towards keeping him wrapped around her finger, which he seemed to be. She wasn't stupid, though. Keeping someone yours took work, and she was willing to put that in. Which meant always looking for the angle, never relaxing to complacency. So, she didn't say anything and just let him do what he was going to, as they walked along the path.

As much as he liked the slightly-needy way she stuck close to him, Porter couldn't relax. They were off the breakwall after a few brief minutes of walking, but somehow it only made the worrying worse. Out there, there had only been one way to them. Here, there were side streets, corners, yards and brush full of shadow. He chided himself for being scared of the dark; feeling as young as he looked, and gave her arm a little squeeze as they walked. The low growl that started to carry just around the bend from the breakwall seemed like the kind of thing he'd imagine, but with the animal attacks in town? Who knew. "What is that?" he murmured, eyes narrowing into the darkness as his steps slowed a touch.

Despite the fact that Medea hadn't been afraid a minute ago, and had just been using whatever was going on to manipulate Porter--that sound actually gave her chills. She shivered, and slowed with him, looking around. "...I don't know but I heard it." she said, voice a quiet whisper. One thing she knew about herself was that she flat out was not physically strong. She bruised incredibly easily, her skin tore if pulled too hard...she couldn't take a hit to save her life. And anything that growled had teeth, claws, most likely. Shit.

He breathed deep, deciding that since he'd volunteered as a protector? he couldn't stop now that there was something to actually protect against. "Okay," he murmured, "Just keep walking. Keep on the road side, and if some dog runs out? We can run, okay? Just... stay calm, and head for your house if we have to run." Of course, talking wasn't the best way to keep from attracting attention, and the growl grew noticeably louder, carrying the edge of a snarl with it as the brush filling the hill between the bike path and the lake began to rustle and stir. Shit, Porter thought with a tremble, We need to run. "Medea... count to three, then run. I'll be right behind you."

"Porter, I---okay." she said, since really there wasn't any other plan. Besides maybe running for the nearest house and forcing her way inside. Or a car, or...something, anything. So yes! Fear was definitely a factor right now, and she hoped it was for not, just an overreaction.

He slid his arm free from Medea, sucking in a shuddering breath and starting his own mental count. One, two, thr--. he couldn't even finish the thought as the growl became a full, menacing snarl, accompanied by a heavy footfall from behind them. "Go!" he blurted at Medea, turning with a forearm raised on the chance that it was a dog. If it was? Protecting his throat was key. But what he saw when he turned was anything but. It towered over Porter, dark and lanky, indistinct in the dark aside from baleful yellow eyes and gleaming fangs. It reeked of carrion breath, old blood, wet fur... it was big enough to bite his protecting arm right off, by the look of things. Act. The voice wasn't his, but it echoed through his mind as he found his wrists slamming together, palms outstretched. "Hadouken!" he snapped, releasing an orb of shimmering energy that smashed into the beast and staggered it back a step, then turning to dash after Medea. "Go! RUN!"

She'd started to take steps away when the thing showed up, and Medea was something Other. She knew that. But she didn't have much experience with anything else that was. She wanted the experience, hell. She wanted to know what she could use, what kind of pets she could aquire. But that huge thing could shred her, and she knew it. So she was terrified. And then, Porter did--whatever the hell that was, and she saw it get knocked back. Eyes wide and blinking, it took her a second to come back to herself enough to follow the advice to run, and she turned to start doing just that.

The time she was taking was time wasted, time that should be spent getting clear of that thing. Porter had never seen anything like it, or anything that wasn't human, period. All he knew was that now was the time for running. He reached out low to push Medea forward as he ran, worrying that she wasn't going to be fast enough. Porter ran track, and while he wasn't The Flash, he was used to running. Medea, on the other hand, was an already-frail girl. And that thing behind them? Well, it hadn't fallen, and suddenly a roar resounded behind them that made Porter's blood run cold. "Don't stop!" he snapped at her as a sudden rush of claws on pavement started behind them, "Don't look back!"

Medea let out a short scream, nearly ditching it when he pushed at her, but she stumbled roughly and managed to keep her feet--barely. But she was off balance, most certainly and knocked into one of the cars that lined the street, clipping herself pretty good on it. That more than anything sent her sprawling, dropping off the side of the bike path into the dark ditch.

"Medea!" he blurted as she fell, stopping to look where she'd dropped off the bike path. Porter stopped just in time to see that dark mass rushing in at him, claws lashing out for his throat. He screamed in terror, dropping low enough to avoid losing his windpipe, but not to avoid being smashed into by what felt like a hairy bus. He hit the ground, rolling back as another thunderous roar sounded, looking up with stars flooding his vision at impending death. It would've eaten either of them, but he was right there, she was out of sight. Porter felt tears of panic coursing down his cheeks as he raised a scraped hand. "Flame on!" he blurted desperately, twisting his hand and pushing with every panicked bit of focus he could. Rainbow energy exploded out in a glowing stream as he felt his vitality falter, flowing into the knee of the werewolf with a sharp crack and toppling it in a thrashing heap. Porter rolled clear as it lashed out at him, stopping when his back hit a parked car. "Medea?!" he snapped again, trying to get his feet back under him.

She'd gotten a little dazed. She didn't pass out, but she was in pain. Rolling onto her hands and knees, she let out a sharp, choked little cry as her elbow protested, and she took weight off of it immediately. "Porter--" she started, just coming into view as she stumbled up out of the ditch. She stopped as her eyes landed on the werewolf, watching it thrash and claw, trying to get it's damaged leg beneath it but it wasn't working out. The issue was that it was an animal, and had three other limbs to use. "--no..." she said, not even fully aware she'd spoken as she stood there, frozen as she watched it getting back up.

Porter was on his feet, his head swimming and the world around him spinning. He'd never thrown energy that hard or fast, he'd never tried it after taking a hit like that, and he felt like he was going to pass out at any moment. Dimly, he recognized the dark shape rising back up with a sick cracking of bone from it's damaged leg. Medea's voice was faint and echoing, he could taste bile in his mouth, but beyond all those details? There was a sharp feeling rising up inside of him, a dark filter sliding over his vision. Watch and learn, little bro, he thought nonsensically, surprised to realize that he was suddenly staggering forward on both feet, hands raised. Porter lunged in dangerously close as the werewolf stood back up, slamming a hand into each of the creature's shoulders. "Shazam motherfucker!" he screamed, gagging as life force flooded out of him through his palms and wrenched the wolf's shoulders apart with a sickening pop.

The sheer force of it hurled the beast back with Porter right on top of it, both hands coming up again and swinging down at the wolf's head. "Shazam!" he shrieked again, his voice high and strained like a child as the darkness lit up again, energy impacting the creature's ears and snapping it's head back with a tortured whine. The dark haze had become a deep red as the mass beneath his twitched and flailed, ruined limbs scrabbling helplessly, but Porter didn't stop. He closed both hands around the wolf's throat, forcing open the chakra there and crying out softly as energy rushed into him like a torrent of icy water. Drink, brother. Drink.

Medea watched, blinking as she took it in and she didn't know what was happening? But Porter was beating it. And...she had no idea. Staggering forward, arm clutched to her body close, she walked up behind him. "...Porter?" she asked, reaching out hesitantly with her good hand, to touch his shoulder lightly.

It had to look, to her, like he was choking the beast to death. It had torn it's own claws away as it raked the pavement desperately, and it's tongue was hanging from one corner of it's extended jaws by now as he squeezed, a savage smile on Porter's face as he shivered with each pulse of energy he drew in. It was stronger than anything he'd ever felt, coursing through his limbs and filling the emptiness he'd created by fighting this thing faster than he could've imagined. He twitched when she touched him, head tilting her way though his eyes were closed. "Not Porter," he growled in a low voice, shivering against another wave of bliss. "Thirst..." it sounded like, his voice dropping to a low moan without finishing as the werewolf in his grip choked and wheezed, eyes bulging as it finally went still. Porter stood back up, shoulders heaving as he panted for breath.

Medea drew back, taking a full step back as she witnessed that, mind trying to put it all together, make sense of it. She definitely caught the 'not porter' thing, and that was fascinating. And just as soon as her heart stopped feeling like it was going to race itself to death, she would put a lot more thought to it. For right now, she was still putting everything together in her mind. Lining it up, figuring it out. "Then who?" she asked, voice quiet. Low. She didn't even know if he was listening, but she had to give it a shot.

Every breath seemed to grow a little steadier, a touch more even as he stood over the corpse, his hands losing the glow they'd bore a moment earlier. With that fade came clarity returning to his mind, pushing away the dizziness and the stars. The darkness, though, seemed to cling all the heavier. But Porter had never felt stronger in his entire life. Medea's words registered belatedly, and as for what he'd said? As far as Porter knew, he hadn't. "Then who... what?" he asked, looking at her in confusion, then back down to the body with a look of shock. "Holy shit... we need to run."

She watched, transfixed for a few long moments, still working things out. His voice sounded different. When he's spoken before, and now. Hm. Interesting. "I don't know how fast or far I can go right now." she told him, voice a light, slightly winded whisper. She was starting to seep acting into her real reactions, because hey--she really had just been terrified, and injured. She was just coming down quicker than a lot of people would, because the immediate danger was gone, which meant there were angles to play.

He reached up to rub at his eyes, trying to rid himself of the lingering haze of shadow that seemed to cling to his vision. Problem was, it didn't seem to do a damn thing to help. And then it hit Porter; she'd seen him, what he could do. He felt his gut go cold in contrast to the delicious warmth of the life force he'd just drained from that... thing. Secret's out. She knows you're a freak. Porter squinted at her, doing his best to focus on the strain he thought was in her expression, it was certainly in her tone. "Then let's just... go. Are you okay to walk?" he asked with a worried frown, wanting to help but thinking she didn't want him too close, seeing what she had.

She took a step closer, and nodded. "I think so...my arm hurts..." Really a lot of things hurt, but he could discover that soon enough. She knew she'd be covered in bruises, and she'd play the 'I'm being strong' card, so when he found it later, it would strike him deeper. Sink in further. "Can we go to your house?" she asked, sounding a little pained, frightened, as she looked around again. "I just...want to be inside right now...if we can't, or I can't stay, I'll call my foster mom..."

And even though Medea didn't make that sound threatening, it made Porter worry. She was hurt, and her foster parents would notice. It would snowball bigger and bigger until he was arrested, then he'd end up in a lab somewhere, being dissected. "Yeah, let's get to my place," he agreed, deciding that he couldn't cut out on her so abruptly. She'd do that for him once it all really sank in. "Do you... do you need any help?" he asked hesitantly, stepping away from the body without noticing the slow decline in fur, thanks to his altered vision.

"Ice?" she suggested. "Maybe a sling, if you've got something I can use for one..." she started, already starting to walk. "We should get out of here though, Porter, come on, we can...we can talk about it when we get to your house." she said, putting the hesitations in there, the vulnerability.

He just nodded his agreement, hesitant as he moved in towards Medea and reached out to help her, starting off towards his house again. What did he say after all of that? How did he even begin to explain what he'd done, necessary as it was? "Medea, I..." he tried as they took their first few steps, faltering and hitting a brick wall of anxiety.

"Porter, shhh." Medea said first. "Don't try right now, okay? Let's just get to your house, and we can...we can talk there." she said. She paused. "Maybe you could let me in your window, your parents wouldn't have to know I was there at all. Is there anyplace in the house we could go that we won't be interrupted? Or..." His house had seemed pretty big, she was willing to bet there was somewhere. She wondered if his room had it's own bathroom.

"You can't... you can't climb up to my window with your arm like that," he argued, shaking his head. "But it's late? I think I can sneak you in." Even if his parents were awake, he probably could. He'd just have to get her upstairs, get the door shut, turn on a movie to cover their voices. Because as much as he didn't want to? They probably had to talk, even if it was just so she could get scared of him and run. "We'll figure it out when we get there," he promised, wanting to reach for her hand, but shoving his hands into his pockets instead and hissing at the scrapes from his fall.

"Okay, I'll just...be very quiet." she said. There were more sirens, a few as far as she could tell as they walked. Thankfully, it wasn't that far a walk. She was definitely feeling it, the bruises on her form rising up to the top, and her arm really did need ice. She'd jarred her elbow, possibly sprained it. She was not built for this, that was for certain.

Porter scrutinized his house as he and Medea drew closer; the lights were off aside from the porch light, the car was in the drive way, maybe he was going to be lucky here. C'mon Carter, be asleep, he hoped as he led Medea up the front steps. "Okay, you remember where my room is, right?" he asked as he opened the outer door, lingering on the inside one, "Just head up, shut the door behind you. I'll be up once I get some ice." He took a deep breath, trying to send an unspoken apology her way with a look before easing the door open and ushering Medea inside.

She nodded, then indeed headed up as silently as she could. And while she wasn't necessarily a master ninja by any means, she knew a thing or two about sneaking around sleeping authority figures. So, she made it to his room just fine, and she shut the door when she got there. Once there, she kicked off her shoes, and took off her coat, sitting down on the end of his bed. Sliding her sleeve up, she looked at the dark purple bruises already on her arm, and the elbow was swelling. She listened for him, so when she heard his footsteps, she could pull her shirt up a little to examine her ribs on the side she landed on, which were just as prettily colored.

Her timing was deviously perfect, the door easing open as Medea studied her ribs. Porter froze halfway through the door, a plastic bag of ice and a bottle of soda in hand as he blinked in surprise. Sure, he'd just killed a werewolf. But the girl he'd been daydreaming about was sitting on his bed, checking the bruises he'd technically caused her to suffer. "....sorry," he muttered, averting his eyes and slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. Porter deliberately circled with his back to her, turning on his TV and firing up whatever was in the DVD player without checking the disc, then handing back the bag of ice.

She dropped her shirt quickly, but not fast enough that he didn't get a look. Then she took the ice, and held it against her elbow, which she curled in against her chest again. "Are you okay?" she asked, wanting to shift focus to him, but also, she wanted him thinking that her concern, her mind was on him. That she held his well being above her own.

Porter was still giving her the courtesy of his back, fiddling with his stereo to keep the volume low as American Splendor started up on the TV. It was a dual-use diversion; he needed the time to compose himself, to try and be ready for the shock and confusion in her eyes. When he eventually turned around, Porter looked strained, though unharmed. "I'm fine," he half-lied. Physically, it was true. Aside from his scrapes and the odd change in his eyesight, he felt wonderful. Mentally? It was a whole other story.

She kept her eyes on him, and had had them on him when he turned, so it was clear that her attention was centered on him. "You don't look okay." she said, voice a whisper. She didn't say more than that, waiting for him to fill in blanks. She figured if she gave him enough room to, he would, and she could just gently nudge along the way.

"I..." Porter murmured, his eyes aiming down at his feet, "...I don't really want to talk about it." Some part of him did, of course. He'd never gotten to, had been carrying his secret for a long time now, never thinking people could understand. He was a parasite, after all. A human-shaped leech. "We need to get your arm situated," he said instead, moving to his closet. He had an idea, and after a moment of rummaging he came up with the strap from an old messenger bag that Porter had been given for Christmas and refused to use, since it was essentially an oversized purse. "Let's try this," he murmured, looping it and moving over, "Can you pull your arm into place?"

She nodded, moving as he needed her to. "Porter...you just saved my life." she told him. Which actually was probably true, even if she was playing it because it would suit best here. "You're--" she started, then stopped. Then she made a show of steadying herself to continue. "You're my hero. I...that thing would have killed me so fast, and you just..." she trailed off, like she didn't have the words and she was getting a little emotional and needed a minute.

He was in the midst of slipping the looped strap around her neck and under her elbow, gently tightening it to let her arm rest easily when her words hit him. "I'm not a hero," he protested, shaking his head and stepping back, "It was going to kill both of us, whatever it was... I don't know what I did, okay? But I had to do it. I wasn't going to let you get more hurt." Which made him scowl a little, since the injuries she'd sustained were Porter's fault. "Just... take your time, okay? Don't force yourself to think about it. Breathe." He was quick to dig out a handkerchief just in case her emotions got the better of her.

"I'm not forcing myself to think about anything, Porter." Medea said. "I'm thinking very, very clearly. That thing would have killed the both of us, yes, but you still saved my life. You did, and you can't take that away from me. I don't know how you did it, but...that doesn't really matter. I mean...I would like to know, but just...it's part of you, and I want to know you." she said, putting the pauses in delibearately so she didn't sound like she was pushing too hard. Like she was still dealing, but there was confidence in her tone.

"I get that," Porter sighed, shaking his head and stepping back as he secured Medea's arm to the best of his ability. "But I... I don't want to scare you off, okay? Seriously, for your own good? It's better, the less you know." She wouldn't be in danger if she didn't know anything dangerous, right? And the fact that she hadn't already freaked out on him? Well, it was feeding a shred of hope. "I'm just glad you're okay," he added as he sat in his desk chair, turning it to face Medea. As he settled, Porter twisted open his soda with a grimace, finally really looking at his scraped up hands and scowling at the gradual rise of pain from his back.

"Not knowing something is a lot scarier than seeing something and making up my own probably wrong story to go with it, Porter." Medea told him gently. "I need to know what I just saw there. And...I'm not afraid of you. I can see you did something there, but you didn't...you saved me. That's what I'm going to remember. But don't--" She paused as if she needed a moment to think of her wording, which she didn't. "Don't keep me in the dark. I think I deserve a little more trust than that."

He couldn't. Could he? Porter frowned hard at his hands, feeling his stomach lurch around. It was so twisted, so unimaginable... how did he explain the sick, empty feelings he'd get when his life tapered away? How the power he'd used to save her was his own essence? Maybe I can leave that part out, he mused, deciding she had a right to ask. But Porter was paranoid over it all, nervous about the connections she could make if he told her and she'd been reading the comic online. "I have this... ability," he said at last, "This power. I don't know where it comes from, okay? I don't... I can't let people know about it. I'm some kind of freak, what would they do if they found out?"

She watched him, then looked away. "I don't think you're a freak, and I didn't ask where it came from." she said. "I'm pretty sure things like that dont' come from anywhere, they just are. Something you're born with, or whatever, like...good eyesight, or a lousey constitution." she said, putting herself in there for the down example. "And so don't let people know. But...I saw it, I was there, and I just...I thought were were...and--" she made it seem like she was having trouble, just not necessarily with what he was, more the lack of trust in her. She wanted him to see that she was hurt, and trying not to be. Throw in there that she'd thought they were starting something, and she figured he'd do the rest of the work for her.

"Medea, it's not you," Porter blurted out with a flash of concern in his eyes, shaking his head as he hopped from his seat and moved over to her. He grabbed the ice as an afterthought, a reason to step in like that, reaching out hesitantly to press it to her elbow. "It's not you at all... seriously. It's me. It's this whole thing I still don't get, and what happened tonight? That means it's all even weirder than I thought," he said in attempted explanation, "That.. thing out there? I didn't think there was anything like that, or like me even. I didn't... didn't think I'd ever have to do something like that."

She gave a weak smile, and let him do the ice thing all he wanted. "I think I'm still wrapping my head around everything." she said. "Like, I don't even know that I'm dealing yet with the whole...that was a werewolf, wasn't it. Seriously. A werewolf." she put in, realizing from his statement that she needed to play up the shock factor more than she had been, and remedying accordingly. "I think I'm still stuck on the...we both could have died, and you saved us."

By yelling Street Fighter and comic book lines, Porter mused silently, smirking grudgingly at her praise. He wished he could work his powers more subtly, but they only worked about half of the time without his bits of flamboyance. "Yeah... I guess it was one, huh?" he agreed with a thoughtful tone, "Here I always figured more on zombies than werewolves." The joke was as weak as Porter's smile as he shrugged, lifting the ice and taking Medea's hand so he could manuever it for a better look at her elbow. "I got really lucky, never knew how this would work on something that big."

"Well, it definitely worked well." Medea said, smiling faintly, and moving her arm so he could see. At least she didn't have to fake that she was hurt so he'd have to take care of her--she was hurt. Not that big a feat in her world. "So...what was it? What did you do?" she asked, wanting more detail on what he was, basically. She could look more up when she went to work at Nevermore.

"There's this energy? This force, without sounding too 'Star Wars', that I can tap into and project. And I'm guessing it hurts to be hit with," he explained with another smirk, holding the ice in place and slowly extending Medea's arm, ready to stop the moment there was tension in her eyes. He hated calling it life force, that just reminded him of the parasitic side of his existence. "But it's stronger than I thought it was, lucky for us."

"Very lucky for us." Medea said. "So a force, huh? Interesting." she said. It didn't occur to her to ask where he got it from, since he made it sound like it was just there for him to grab. She sat for a few long moments, appearing to be thinking it over. "I don't think you're a freak." she told him, tone firm on it.

Porter wished Medea was a little less intelligent; far too many answers were going to fall into her lap if she ever read his work. Then? yeah, her opinion was sure to change. "if I could figure out why I could do all this, it'd be interesting," he protested, smiling more securely at her appraisal. "Right now, it's sorta a pain in the ass? i don't do anything with it, and it's a huge secret waiting to get me in trouble. I wanted to bounce this guy at school off the lockers."

"What if there isn't a why?" Medea asked. "What if it's just who you are, and what you do with it is up to you?" she suggested. "I understand what you mean with how you think about it, but...you've got something. Secret that can get you into trouble or no, you have something. You saved me...maybe you could save others if you got good at it all, just...like your comic." she said. Then she paused, as if she was just putting things together, even if she had figured it out earlier. "That's your inspiration, isn't it."

Okay, full panic wasn't needed yet. She'd only said inspiration; that didn't mean everything was the same, not even close. But it was enough to get him flustered, nearly dropping the ice as he fought to keep from lacing his hands together. "Yeah," he admitted with a slight nod, "I'm the Conduit. Or... he's supposed to be me. Kinda disappointing, isn't it? Like when they took Vader's mask off." But her words were reassuring all the same; maybe he could be a hero, Porter believed the idea more if Medea somehow thought it too.

"I don't think so." Medea said, putting conviction into her tone. "Not at all. I think...I prefer the reality." she told him, looking down a little shyly. "...You might've caught onto the fact that I like you." she said, voice a lot softer. "That...that hasn't changed. I mean, I have a lot to think about, but I'm pretty positive nothing is different about that. I don't care what you can do or why if you ever figure it out, you saved my life. When I needed to be rescued, you were there to do it, and you did it. A lot of guys would have just...left me and run." Which was actually true.

He would've liked to deny that, but he couldn't. Hell, without his ability, Porter might've run too. That creature would have mauled both of them without batting an eye otherwise. "I'm glad it was me, then," Porter told her with a drop in his own voice to match Medea's, "And that this hasn't changed things. I'd really hate to see you panic and bail because of this? But... I sorta expected it too." So chalk up yet another point for Medea surpassing what he expected from the vast majority of the world. "I have a lot to think about too? So if you ever feel like it's too much, maybe we can be overwhelmed together."

She gave a light smile at that. "That sounds good to me." she said. "Getting overwhelmed together. I'll...I'm not going to bail on you." she said. "We just kind of started something, I'm not giving up now. So...dont' think that. I'm here now. And I'm not ever going to forget what you did for me." she said, voice softer. She leaned closer to him, like she wanted to kiss him, but wasn't sure it was okay.

'I'm here now', he repeated, smiling warmly. Whatever doubts he had, she seemed determined to push past them and hang on tight to whatever it was that they'd started together, which made Porter feel good. "I trust you," he murmured with a nod, gently letting go of Medea's arm and reaching up to cup her cheek in his palm. "So I won't let go too easy either, promise," Porter finished, too happy to seize the security that was offered in the slight lean and hopeful look Medea wore. He closed the gap, kissing her with a soft appreciation for far longer than their first efforts had lasted.

She kissed him back, glad he was someone who took hints so easily. It allowed her to play the girl who was just that little bit unsure of herself. Later, she could pull things to other levels, but it was important that the start of it all was really with him, to give him the 'power' or percieved power over things. She didn't pull back from the kiss, letting him do that, instead she made a soft sound into it, just for effect.

That little sound almost made him forget she was hurt. After all, Porter was a sixteen year old guy who was locked in a soft, slow kiss with a beautiful girl. The urge to stretch out on his bed with her was, essentially, totally natural. Aside from his scrapes, her sling, both of their bruises. But at least the hunger wasn't there; he could touch her temple, her neck, without feeling the energy beneath. And of course, the moment couldn't last. A soft knock sounded on Porter's door as he lingered in the kiss, and he yanked his head back with nearly as much panic as he'd shown in the street. "Hide," he whispered in a rush, yanking down the blanket of his bed and tugging the pillows free to help her obscure her form. Porter rose to face the door, breathing deep as he moved for it. "One second," he said, stalling to give her as much time as possible.

Medea did hide--something she was actually not that bad at. She laid down, moved her coat and shoes under the bed. Then she hid down more beneath blankets and the like, to be as still as possible, her breathing slowing down as she listened intently, but otherwise was pretending she wasn't there. Getting caught right now wouldn't in any way help her cause, so it was in her best interest to keep herself from that scenario.

Porter yanked his door open as late as he could, waiting for the blanket on his bed to settle before he revealed his step father lingering in the hall, dressed in his robe. "Hey," Carter said to the younger man, "Thought I heard you talking to someone... everything okay?" he peered beyond Porter with a thoughtful glance, studying what he could see of the room while he could. "It's fine, Carter," Porter was quick to say, his brow lining together, "I was just watching a movie, doing lines with it." The TV behind him was good evidence for the story, but Carter didn't entirely seem to buy it. He glanced at Porter's hand on the door, frowning a little. "What happened there?"

Sighing tersely, Porter shook his head at his stepfather. "I had to hop out of some rollerblader's way on the bike path," he lied, his patience running short. Why were they checking up on him? Was he twelve? "Slipped on some gravel, but it's just a scrape." He shot his stepdad a challenging look, welcoming him to test the story and breathing easier when Carter finally nodded. "Well, get some band-aids on that, you know how your mother is. I'll let you get back to it," Carter finally said relentingly, stepping back and smiling a little. "Goodnight Porter," he said, stepping away and leaving room for Porter to sigh after him. "'Night," came the bare reply before Porter shut his door, moved to turn his movie up slightly, and then went back to the bedside. He reached out to tug the sheets down from Medea, smiling a little as he uncovered her. "All clear," he whispered softly, "We just need to be extra-quiet for a little bit."

Medea stayed laying where she was, looking up at him. She smiled softly, wanting him to keep the mental image of her there, in his bed, long after she was gone. "I can be quiet." she told him in a bare whisper, basically doing it quietly enough that he would have to get closer to hear her properly at that volume.

I bet you can, Porter mused as he leaned in to hear her, smiling gently. That image? That was going to skyrocket up his list of favorites, for sure, and stay there for a long time. "Good, we'll just keep this up," he murmured as he leaned in, helpless against the urge to nuzzle her a little bit. Medea just looked irresistably inviting in his bed like that, her hair fanned out behind her head. "Or... go a bit without words," Porter added thoughtfully, smiling a little before he was suddenly kissing her again.

She smiled, and she kissed him back, since really, this was all going in her favor. Him saving her, there was still the conflict creation between his parents and him due to her, where she was on his side. She couldn't have plotted it better if she'd orchestrated the attack. She reached up, good hand sliding in against his cheek, then down his neck to grasp the collar of his shirt lightly, to pull just the tiniest bit. He might even think coming down onto the bed with her was his idea.

It wasn't his idea? The little tug on his collar was a quiet proposal, asking him to join her. But it was his decision, and Porter overwhelmingly voted 'yes' as he brought his legs up onto the bed, stretching out parallel to Medea to keep her injured arm clear. And as much as it all favored Medea? It favored Porter too, in his mind at least. He'd saved her, she seemed hooked on him, she wasn't scared, she was kissing him like she didn't want to stop. When had Porter ever been so lucky? He ran his hand down her good arm as he deepened the kiss slowly, then back up and over her shoulder to tease her neck softly.

She kissed him in return, letting him set the tone and pace of everything, accommodating accordingly as fluidly as she could. It was all calculated, of course. She wanted him to have the impression that she was made for him. that everything he did was the right thing, and it all worked well for her. She smiled into the kiss as he teased her neck a touch, and as she shifted slightly more towards him, she added in another tiny, soft sound in the back of her throat.

That little sound worked wonders, raising a whole other kind of hunger in Porter, one he couldn't give into any more than if he'd needed vitality. Porter was reaching to caress her, to run a hand down Medea's side, when he knotted it in the bed sheets and broke the kiss with a sigh of frustration. "I... damnit. You're, um, hurt? And if you keep kissing me like that, I'm gonna forget," he whispered, smiling shakily down at Medea. It was the truth, he wanted to touch her, bad elbow or no. Even if it was fast for how long they'd known each other, Porter had ended up exposed to her, and that exposure made him feel all the closer.

She let out a little whine of a frustrated sound, like his pulling back was almost physically painful. She sighed, and leaned back a little, though she reached up to touch his cheek, lightly brushing her fingers over it. "I know what you mean, I...." she started, then laughed softly, quietly, and she grinned at him. "I'm not usually like this, but with everything..." because yes, she wanted him to think that it was all him. that he was just that irresistible.

"I know," Porter agreed, turning his head to kiss at Medea's fingers and curling closer to her on the bed, "Me neither? And now I... hell, how late do you want to stay?" he asked hesitantly, thrilling to the reactions he seemed to be getting from her. If it was a mutual feeling, laying like this? Porter would have far less reason to fight it off or feel like he was out of line.

She smiled, looking gently delighted at what he was doing with her hand, there. "I don't know...I don't want to go out with all of this going on..." she whispered to him. "I'm scared. I could call my foster parents, but would I be putting them at risk, just having them leave the house?" she asked, turning her voice serious again. Concerned.

His smile dimmed a little as he considered that, nodding. The way the police cars were heading in different spots earlier, Porter didn't think there was only one of those things out there. And with Medea's earlier confession about losing her family once? Porter didn't want to do anything that might put her new one at risk. "Don't be scared, okay?" he murmured soothingly, reaching up to stroke her hair, "You can stay here for however long you like, promise. Tomorrow's Saturday, my folks'll let me sleep in. So we can sneak you out once the sun's up, if you're feeling okay then."

She looked like she was hesitant, biting into her lower lip lightly, both to add to the impression she was unsure--and to distract his attention to it. "I'll...can I call them and tell them I'm safe? That I just am going to stay at a girlfriend's house or something?" she asked softly. "Are you sure you wouldn't mind? I...I don't want to get you in trouble, or..."

Nothing was better for a guy's bravado than a scared girl looking to them for reassurance, and Porter was no exception. "I'm sure I don't mind," he murmured, reaching up to nudge her chin, coaxing her lip free from her teeth, "You can use my phone to call, and I'm not scared of getting in trouble. If I handled tonight? I can deal with my parents." He smiled at that, fingers lingering at her jawline for a moment before Porter scooted grudgingly away, digging out his phone and offering it to her.

She took his phone, and dialed her house, telling her foster mother a tale about how with everything looking kind of weird outside, that her friend's mom said she didn't want anyone going anywhere. And, to Medea's delight, her foster mother more than agreed, and said to just be home in the morning. Hanging up, she held Porter's phone back out to him, and she sat up a little. "...do you have anything I can wear?" she asked, voice barely audible. "My clothes are dirty."

Oh... wow. Porter wasn't ready for that question, his cheeks burning a little as he involuntarily remembered the glimpse he'd gotten when Medea had been checking her bruises. Just the idea of her in his clothes was a good one, the same as her changing in his room. "Yeah, you can borrow whatever," he insisted, feet slipping off the bed so she could get up too. "Flannels in the bottom drawer, shirts in the top," he informed her, ready to leave her to change until he considered her arm. "I'll get them for you, then I'll, uh... go to the bathroom, give you some privacy." He hopped up, tugging open dresser drawers softly and plucking a couple of shirts free. "Green Lantern or Fantastic Four?" he asked, stacking both on top of a pair of pajama pants.

She got off the bed, and walked closer, smiling faintly. "You choose." she told him, figuring that was best. then he'd see her in what he wanted to see her in. Reaching out, she took his injured hand, and pressed a light little kiss to one of the scrapes. "When you're in there, take care of your hand, okay?"

"Green Lantern then," Porter decided easily, biting his own lip as she kissed his hand. "And I will, otherwise I'll hear about it from you and my folks. That'd drive me crazy." I'm already getting there, he mused, handing over the clothes and gently withdrawing his hand. "I'll be back in a few," he told Medea, awkward against the urge to reach out for her again as he turned and shuffled out the door, easing it closed behind him.

Medea changed fairly quickly, or as quickly as the pain she was feeling allowed her. Then she curled back up on his bed, leaving room for him as she put the ice back on her elbow. Stupid shit. Now she just had to try and be careful. She didn't necessarily want to show Porter the red rashes on her skin, the ones that were spreading, and she covered with make up. If he did see, she knew she could play it. But she wanted that reveal to be later. So she would need to sleep carefully, and not rub the make up off on his pillowcase or anything. She was fairly sure she could manage it.

Porter was mostly wasting time in the bathroom, since it didn't take long to clean and bandage his hands up. He stole a look at his back in the bathroom mirror, spotting what looked like some forming bruises from when he'd been bowled over. He'd need to be careful with those, they looked like the sort of thing that'd get Carter accused of beating him. Slipping back into his room, Porter was visibly pleased by the sight of her in his bed, clad in his clothes. She just looked... Perfect. She's perfect. Something as simple as a girl in his clothing was so powerful, especially one he was smitten with. "You need anything else?" he asked quietly, lingering by the door as he fought the urge to join her and resume what was inevitably going to frustrate him.

Medea smiled at him and shook her head. "No, I don't need anything." she told him, and she put an appropriate mix of shy, and comfortable into her look, her expression. She looked like she hesitated before she held her hand out to him, to beckon him back into bed.

He was stunned by that simple gesture and all it could entail, looking to her open hand with a nervous smile. Porter reached down to tug off his sweatshirt, uncovering his own superhero logo beneath. It was fitting, given the night he'd had. He was a hero, a real one now. I need a mask, Porter mused as he headed over, taking Medea's hand and curling into the bed with her. "Did you want me to put on something else?" he murmured as he settled next to her, nodding over at the TV. "I can do some movies through my Xbox or something." She probably just wanted to sleep, but he had to offer. It was something to offer that didn't reek of his smitten feelings, at least for a moment.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not really paying attention to it anyways, and I don't think I'd be able to do so no matter what was on." she told him. "I'd rather just...curl up with you." She hesitated on the wording there so that he could fill in his own blank on what she might have said. Imagination was important to foster, after all.

The movie could run, the animated menu could loop over and over all night to provide some kind of strange rhythm for their sleep, Porter didn't care. She just wanted him close, and really? He didn't want anything quite as much as he wanted that closeness. "Consider your wish list filled, then," he murmured, scooting under the blanket on his bed and drawing it up to both of their rib levels, then sliding an arm over Medea. This was new territory, even if all they did was sleep, and it had Porter so enthralled that he didn't really have room to panic over it. "I... I'm glad you're not scared," Porter whispered, drawing her a little closer and butting his forehead up with Medea's, "I like this, I don't want to lose it before it even gets to start."

Medea smiled at that, and nuzzled at his skin for a moment. "Me neither. You make me feel..." she smiled. "I don't have a word. Just know it's really, really good. I don't want it to end before it starts either. So...let's just keep on going. I think we'll work it out somehow."

His breath caught in his throat when Medea nuzzled against him, fingers lightly gripping the material at the back of her shirt. "If we both want to? We'll find a way," he murmured in agreement, eyes raptly fixed on her as he brushed a foot against Medea's under the blankets. "There's precedent, y'know. I've got a whole book case full of weirdos like me figuring out how to make it work." And if she was serious? He'd find the strength to fight his own paranoia, to hold onto this. To be a hero, if only for her.