New Places, Same Faces (Open)

Ronin was not among the number of kids who were complaining about relocating again. Then again, he'd come to Hadley after the move from Louisiana to New York, so it wasn't as if he was being shuffled halfway across the country for the second time in as many years - and from what he'd heard, it hadn't even been that long since the last relocation. In that respect, he couldn't blame some of Hadley's veteran students for being upset, but he saw it as an adventure of sorts, an exciting new endeavor. It certainly wasn't as if he was leaving anything he cared about behind. Anyplace had to be more interesting than Phoenicia, and when they arrived at their new place of residence, he discovered it was even better than he'd imagined. Hadley, now known as St. Christina's, was set down on its own private island, with views of the ocean from their very backyard. Ronin had never lived so close to the ocean, and couldn't remember a time he'd actually ever seen it. As they rode the ferry from the mainland to Green Ridge, he sat in silence, his chin propped up on the rail, watching the water glisten happily in the sunlight. It stretched on as far as the eye could see in almost every direction, bringing with it a sense of peace and calm he hadn't felt in far too long.

The plane ride had been far less enjoyable. Even on a private plane, he had felt constricted and uncomfortable, his elbow constantly bumping his seat partner's until he scowled and tucked his arms in close to his sides. He couldn't sleep sitting up, so he spent most of the journey staring out the window trying to ignore the noise around him. Voices rose in an unpleasant discord, excited chatter juxtaposed by the low rumble of curses and complaints. He wished he could tell them all to shut up, but one voice among many meant nothing, and he'd probably get sedated for his trouble. He wanted to be awake to see where they were going, wanted to be conscious when they reached their final destination so he could scope out the landscape and see what he had to work with. Each student was assigned a ward upon arriving, and he was surprised to learn that he wasn't being relegated to the most severe the boy's home had to offer. He was one step down in Ward B, where the patients were given weekend island privileges. The unfortunates in Ward A couldn't leave the grounds at all unless they were accompanied by a ranking member of staff, while those in Ward C had off-campus privileges every day of the week. Knowing his own track record, Ronin wasn't sure how long he'd last in Ward B, but he intended to make it through the weekend for at least one taste of freedom. If he liked it enough, he might decide and to try and keep the good behavior going.

Still, what could he really do on the island? There were shops and restaurants, but he didn't have any money, and he definitely didn't plan on wasting his weekends by getting a job. He'd have no time to spend the money he earned. This meant that he was going to have to get creative. Ronin wasn't an outdoorsy fellow by any means, but he supposed he'd be spending a lot of time at the local parks and beaches if he wanted to take advantage of his new-found freedom. Okay, so it wasn't really freedom, but it was close enough to appease him, and if it meant he got to see more of the ocean, he was all for it. The sight of all that open water had been a revelation to him, and he had been a bit disappointed when it had come time to disembark from the ferry and set foot on dry land again. He could have stayed out there on that boat forever, watching the waves slosh against the side of the deck, wondering what kind of enchantments he'd find if he could dive in and disappear beneath the surface for awhile. Instead, he let himself be herded like a sheep into a pen, facility staff ushering him into the new building alongside the rest of the high-strung students. Naturally, he was subjected to a full body cavity search - unpleasant, but nothing he hadn't suffered through before - and given his ward and room assignments before the next in line was called.

Ronin barely skimmed the new patient handbook before stuffing it into his backpack. There would be time for that later. If he had trouble sleeping, he knew he could thumb through it and be out like a light in about five seconds flat. He heard others join him as he began unpacking and sorting through his clothes, but he kept his back turned to them, body language evasive and unwelcoming. The trip had been long, and he was tired and hungry and in no mood for pleasantries now. Maybe after a good night's sleep he would be, but depending on who he was roomed with, those inevitable interactions wouldn't be pleasant at all. As Ronin searched for a clean change of clothes, he cheered inwardly at the thought that uniforms were no longer required. It was about damn time! Uniforms were an unnecessary and archaic concept, and he didn't appreciate anyone trying to stifle his freedom of expression. Naturally, there were a few guidelines and ground rules as to what could and couldn't be worn, but for the most part, the full extent of his wardrobe was up for grabs. As lunchtime neared, he pulled on a pair of snug-fitting black jeans and a loose black t-shirt, slipping his feet back into the cheap plastic flip-flips he'd worn for the duration of the cross-country trip. As he surveyed himself in the mirror, his reflection showed a brooding blond with a devil-may-care attitude and the kind of slouched, "fuck off" posture that warned others away. He looked like he didn't give a shit, and, truly, he didn't. He wasn't interested in fashion contests. After several months spent in Hadley's grotesque green uniform, the one thing he wanted to exercise was comfort.

The communal dining hall wasn't much different from the one back at Hadley, and as he realized that, he wondered what was going to happen to the old building now that they were gone. Maybe it would be converted into an expensive private school for the terminally rich. He sniffed at the thought. Or maybe it would sit dormant while negotiations went on between high-powered businessmen in an air-conditioned board room, trying to determine a suitable use for the now-vacant grounds. Maybe it would be demolished, the woods around it stripped away to give rise to an ugly, modern strip mall. Either way, a lot of money was bound to go into it. America was all about revenue these days. Their problem citizens got shipped to a private island to be forgotten about so capitalism could run its due course. Ronin would have been more resentful if he hadn't hated the old facility, but as it was, he wasn't sad to say sayonara. At the end of the day, he wished everyone would forget about him, St. Christina's included. He didn't want help, he just wanted to be left to his own devices, and that was what he was hoping for as he carried his lunch tray to a free table, away from the ones clustered together in the center. Taking a seat, he shoveled food into his mouth indiscriminately, continuing to ignore the signs of less-than-intelligent life around him.

In all his sixteen years, Talon had never once been out of New York. His parents had never left the church, and all his family had lived in the state. He'd never even been to Pennsylvania or Vermont. So the flight out west had been a definitely new experience for him. He'd have been lying if he said he wasn't kind of happy about it. First of all, the farther away from his parents, the better--even if it did mean leaving Jackson behind, too--and second of all, it was kind of exciting to get to go on a journey. It was like an adventure.

Arriving at St. Christina's, he had been assigned to Ward C; flipping through the patient handbook, he learned that that meant he was considered the smallest risk, and that he stood a good chance of being rehabilitated and let out someday. The idea surprised him a little, but he guessed that since he had only been involved in one fight--and that not his fault, or at least mostly not his fault--he was given special consideration. It meant that he could get off of the facility grounds whenever he wanted, as long as he didn't have anything else scheduled. That surprised him, too, but then he remembered how long of a ferry ride they had had coming in. Talon got the distinct impression that it was a journey that could be made in one direction only, and he knew he could never swim the whole way to the mainland. Even if he could, where would he go? He couldn't just walk back to New York.

And honestly, he thought to himself as he finished putting his clothing away, he wasn't sure he even wanted to go back to New York. He kind of liked it here. And the town outside...there were normal people living there, too. Maybe he could stay on the island if and when he got discharged from the hospital. For that matter, even though there didn't seem to be a church on the island, maybe he could start one up. Pastor Talon Rogers. He had to admit that he rather liked the sound of that.

His stomach gave a loud rumble. Looking at his watch, he noted that it was noon--lunchtime, and maybe afterwards he could go into town for a bit and explore his new home. With that in mind, he tugged on a pair of blue jeans, slid his feet into his comfortable loafers, and pulled on a black hooded sweatshirt with a stylized logo NOTW on it. He knew it wouldn't be comprehensible to most people, but C28 had been one of his favorite stores when he had been at liberty and he had a good dozen shirts from their company. Thus attired, he headed down the corridors to the communal dining area.

It was...well, a cafeteria is a cafeteria is a communal dining hall. It didn't look that different from the one at Hadley. Remembering that made him think of Tara Anne, and wonder where she was--and which ward she was in. Talon didn't have many friends and he thought, if she was in Ward C, maybe they could go exploring together. If she was in Ward B, he'd be willing to wait for the weekend if she wanted to go with him. Thus preoccupied in thought, he took a tray of food and selected a random table, which happened to have one other occupant, a blond boy in all-black.

Talon offered the boy a warm and friendly smile. "Hi. Be with you in a sec..." Bowing his head, he quietly murmured through his grace. "If I waste not, I've learned one thing. Let not one crumb fall off my plate, for you will bless the foods I distaste, and you'll teach me to be thankful as I partake. Amen."

Raising his head and reaching for his drink, he smiled at the other boy again. "I'm Talon Rogers. What's your name?"

Ronin, like the boy he didn't realize was slowly closing in on him, didn't have many friends either. In fact, he didn't know if he had anyone he could call a friend. Pandora had been the closest thing to a friend he'd had since coming to Hadley, but she was gone now. He didn't know where, or why. Whatever the reason, she hadn't said goodbye, so as far as he was concerned, she could go fuck herself, the tempestuous bitch. Nate and Sophie were two people whose company he had enjoyed, but he'd only seen each of them on one occasion, which wasn't enough to constitute friendship - not in his eyes, at least. Considering the unusual circumstances that had occurred when he'd been with them, friendship might be possible, but Ronin wasn't the kind of boy who actively pursued companionship unless he was desperate to get off. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure he'd know what to say if he saw Nate again. "Hey, see any ghosts lately?" That didn't have the most pleasant ring to it. Then again, Ronin himself wasn't particularly pleasant, but that didn't necessarily mean he shouldn't make some sort of effort. He needed allies in this place, badly. How unfortunate that it was so hard for him to meet people he could actually stand to be around for more than five minutes at a time. Everyone had a story, opinion, or agenda, and he wasn't interested in hearing any of them. When it came to making friends, it was safe to say that he was his own worst enemy, but leaving his attitude at the door was easier said than done.

Stabbing the tines of his fork into a spear of broccoli, Ronin lifted the vegetable to his face and eyed it critically, his mouth turning down at the corners. His eyes narrowed as if the leafy green stalk had done him a wrong turn somewhere. It hadn't, of course. He just hated the fact that he couldn't get a piece of pizza, or a basket of fries, or a burger with all the trimmings (he could have also done with a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Jack, but that fantasy was laughably far-fetched and he knew it). The lack of savory grub burned him almost as much as the whole no sex thing. Then again, he'd heard there was a diner in town, and surely the food there dripped with grease, much the same as any American diner worthy of its name. He frowned again when he realized that he'd need money to eat at the diner, and that he had no one to write to who might send him some. His grandmother might, but that was assuming he could get a letter to her. Security was strict about the mail that went in and out of the facility, and if by chance his grandma did get the letter and sent him some cash, he'd probably be in Ward A by then. Ronin's outlook was bleak, but that had been the way of it for many years. His pessimistic disposition was not a new development.

He heard, before he saw, a body drop into the chair opposite him, and the subsequent squeak of plastic against plastic as the other boy's tray scraped against the table. Oh, fuck. That was the blond's first thought as he realized he was no longer alone. It usually worked, picking a table near the windows and as far away from everyone else as possible. As far as Ronin knew, that was the universal signal for leave me the fuck alone. But sometimes, despite his best efforts, a kid got really ambitious and decided to join him anyway, ignoring the signal or disregarding it completely. Some kids were smart but others just didn't care. Either way, they usually didn't end up sticking around for long. Ronin's abrasive nature was enough to unsettle even the most serene hippie idealist in the place, and he supposed that was the point. He didn't want to hear some deluded stoner's philosophies on life any more than he wanted to voluntarily sign himself up for ECT, or whatever it was that they did in the mysterious depths of the building. He wasn't positive, and none of the patients could prove anything, but they all had their suspicions, and the rumor mill was on a continuous grind. Teenagers needed something to gossip about, after all, and though Ronin didn't take part in it and gave off the impression that he couldn't care less, he was guilty of eavesdropping all the same.

All things considered, he supposed he should try to play nice. As he looked up from his tray and surveyed the new addition to the table, he noticed that the boy sat across from him looked as docile and harmless as a mouse, nonthreatening in almost every way. Perhaps he was another outcast seeking refuge from the infuriating flock, and for that the thought of being rude to the boy made Ronin feel guilty. It had never stopped him from being an ass in the past, but as thoughts of friendship - or lack thereof - weighed heavily on his mind, he knew it might benefit him to change his tune by making an effort to be nicer every now and again. Despite his determination to be nice - or as nice as he was capable of being, anyway - Ronin couldn't help but grimace as the other boy excused himself to pray. Religion, the tonic of the feeble-minded, or at least that was how it had always seemed to him. Not all religious folks were nuts, but the way they were portrayed in the media certainly made it seem that way, and it had turned Ronin off to religion. He knew he wasn't the only one who viewed most belief systems with a measure of suspicion thanks to the fervent, widespread crazy surrounding them. Nevertheless, it was too easy to judge a person based on the simple matter of whether or not they believed in God, and Ronin wanted to think that this kid - Talon - was alright. He wanted to give him a chance. He was positive about one thing though - if the guy tried to talk to him about Jesus, he was out of there. He needed friends and secretly craved a sense of belonging, but not so badly that he was willing to convert from atheist to believer for it.

Ronin tried not to give the other boy hairy eyeball too badly, but his discomfort and distrust were nonetheless plain on his face as his eyes skirted him. He kept his body language reserved without completely shutting the other kid out, voice low and affectedly casual when he spoke. "Talon, huh? Nice name. I'm Ronin. I'd ask you if you always pray over your food but I'm afraid that might make it seem like I'm looking for a lecture or something...and just so we're clear on that, I'm not. Anyway, if you're not going to damn-and-blast me for being a godless heathen, I think we'll be cool, and I won't try too hard to frighten you off." At that, he flashed Talon a sly smile, an expression so rarely seen it served as evidence to his sincerity.

Talon hadn't realized just how hungry he was until he sat down, but he made himself act like a civilized human being. So he quietly sipped at his glass of orange juice as he waited for the other boy to respond, and while he did, he studied him a little. He didn't recognize him specifically, so he was either a new patient or in a different class than Talon--the latter being the more likely, although he didn't look too terribly much older. A year at most. Then again, Talon had only just turned sixteen a few months before. The other boy had blond hair, blue eyes, and--he couldn't help but notice--kind of a nice-looking body. He hadn't had sex with anyone, or wanted to, since before coming to Hadley, but looking at this other kid, he had to admit, if only to himself, that if he had still been a "working man" he might have been willing to let this guy have a few freebies.

He couldn't help but grin in response to the other boy's smile. It was a nice smile, kind of attractive, and definitely well-intentioned. "Nice to meet you, too, Ronin. Don't worry--I'm not really into the whole hellfire-and-damnation-convert-everyone-you-see thing. It's a personal thing for me and I wouldn't try to force it on anyone else." It was the truth--Talon had always despised the sorts of people who insisted that the whole world convert to their ways of believing. His relationship with God was his own business, and what Ronin chose to do was his. There were other people he could have religious debates with if he really wanted to.

Spearing a piece of broccoli, he tried to sort through the long catalogue of questions he could ask to perpetuate the conversation. Questions about Ronin's background, about his age, about he himself....The words Are you by any chance gay? almost made it all the way to his mouth before he gagged them with the woody vegetable. That was not a good opening move, and besides, he reminded himself sternly, there were rules. Letting himself get too lost in fantasies might lead to him going to far, and then he'd lose a lot of the privileges the school had trusted him with. No, tempting as it was, he decided not to ask what Ronin's sexual preferences were. Better that he didn't know.

Instead, he settled on the more general opening question, the one that it seemed every student at Hadley had asked or been asked at some point or another. "How long have you been--well, not here, obviously, but--how long were you here before the move? I've only been around since December."

Ronin's smirk would have grown deeper if he'd been able to hear Talon's thoughts. He appreciated knowing when someone found him attractive, even if he wasn't interested. Admittedly, it didn't take much to get him interested, not when sex was on the table. Naturally, his brand of paraphilia made it more difficult for him to get off than most people, but it was always nice to know that he had options among his fellow inmates, even if most of them weren't capable of delivering what he wanted, needed, couldn't live without. He realized that he cockblocked himself most of the time by not mingling with the others, but St. Christina's did a good enough job of that on their own - they'd even installed cameras in the dorm rooms, for Christ's sake. Were there similar cameras strewn across the whole island? His stomach sank to think of it. Couldn't there be just one place where he could get away from the constant surveillance and scrutiny? It was hard to feel normal, or believe that he could ever be normal, when every move he made was recorded for observation and dissection. Big Brother was a possessive bastard.

He nodded, his relief growing as Talon spoke, the tension slowly draining out of his shoulders and corded muscles of his back. So he didn't have to worry about being converted today; that was a good start. "Good to know," he murmured in response, and the sarcasm that usually dripped from his words was remarkably absent. "In that case, I guess we can avoid a theological debate." He laughed softly and took a leisurely sip of water, studying the other boy's face with piercing blue eyes as he did so. He didn't quite know what to make of Talon. He was interesting-looking. Not stunningly attractive, but not ugly either. Cute. Yeah, cute. That was what he was. Again, the mouse comparison came into his head, but he knew he couldn't judge him on that alone, because some said it was the quiet ones you had to watch out for, and Ronin supposed that was true. He was fairly quiet himself, most of the time. His explosions were great and unpredictable, the hot lava of perpetual anger roiling beneath the surface of an affected calm until a crack in the facade appeared long enough to provide an opening, an escape route. Ronin was a volcano of feeling and emotion that, if remained unchecked, could yield disastrous results.

Ronin considered Talon's question as he twirled another piece of broccoli on his fork. Plastic. As if only metal was capable of piercing the skin. He supposed the staff had to make some concessions though, else they'd be eating with their hands like their evolutionary ancestors. Maybe it would have been more fitting if they'd been forced to eat like savages; god knew they were already treated like animals. Ronin sighed a little wearily, and his smile and eyes, when they returned to Talon's face, were a bit sad. The blond had never been overly prone to melancholy, but there was a tiredness about him today that momentarily took the place of angst. "I came in October. So that makes it..." He paused, ticking off the months on his fingers, brow furrowed. "...eight months I've been here? Shit, I didn't realize it'd been that long already. I mean, some days it feels like it's been forever, but others, it feels like I only left Detroit yesterday."

Ronin's hands fell away from his tray, and he reclined against the back of his chair to run his fingers through his hair. He eyed the remaining food in front of him disinterestedly as he laced his hands behind his neck, elbows flanking either side of his head. The light streaming through the dining hall slanted across the line of his throat in such a way that, if Talon was looking close enough, he'd see the long, thin, fading scar that bisected the flesh there. Ronin didn't realize he was doing it, not at first, but when he did, he only tilted his chin a little higher. He wasn't ashamed of his scars, didn't have anything to hide, and if nothing else, it was an interesting conversation piece. "So what did they get you for anyway?" It wasn't the most original question, but he was genuinely curious. Was he delusional? A drug addict? A sadist? Masochist? He was eating, so he obviously didn't have an eating disorder. Ronin couldn't peg Talon, and that interested him about the other boy.

Talon felt tension he hadn't even known he had roll off his shoulders as Ronin laughed. He could usually tell when someone was being sarcastic or patronizing, and the other boy had meant what he said. A lot of times people got turned off or disinterested when he said he was a Christian, and thsoe who didn't a lot of times tended to move on when he said he wasn't evangelical. To have someone to talk to who was okay with his beliefs was a pleasant experience.

He nodded in understanding at Ronin's comment about time. "I get that. When you're in school year 'round, the passage of time does tend to become somewhat of a guessing game." A thoughtful look came into his brown eyes as he absently tapped the plate with the tines of his plastic fork. Had it really been six months he'd been at Hadley--six months since he had tasted freedom, six months since he had been to church, six months since he had, not to put too fine a point on it, gotten laid? He guessed so. Six months, and so much had happened. Unexpectedly, his mind floated to a crystal-clear memory from the last month of his Hadley stay--a shawl, a spray of flowers, a small collection of photographs, two girls, and the words of a Hebrew prayer. He'd kept an eye out for Keziah since seeing that shrine in the hallway, and he'd especially paid attention on the plane. He'd seen dozens of people whom he recognized--he even remembered seeing Ronin, now that he thought of it--but Keziah Heron had been conspicuous by her absence. It lent credence to the brown-haired girl's theory that they were dead. One had only to look at the picture the pretty blonde had brought to see how close they were to one another; if you didn't see one, you wouldn't see any of them. And it was obvious that none of them had come on to St. Christina's; since the students hadn't been given a choice, they obviously weren't there anymore.

Shaking his head, Talon returned to the present when Ronin asked why he was there. He smiled ruefully. "Sure you want to know? I was a drug addict. I got arrested three times for mainlining cocaine. And I was feeding my habit the way most addicts do, I guess--I was working as a prostitute. Got arrested for that twice." He shrugged. "The straw that broke the camel's back for my Jesus-freak parents was that I was gay, but that wouldn't have been enough for 'em to get me here."

He took note of the way Ronin was sitting, leaning back, pointing his chin as though to draw attention to his neck. Talon noticed a long, thin scar on his throat and wondered about the blond boy. Had he tried to kill himself by slitting his throat? That was original, certainly, most people who tried to commit suicide with razors slit their wrists. Or had somebody else done it for him? Talon wasn't sure. "What about you? Why'd they send you here?" In the back of his mind, he thought that he couldn't wait until he knew Ronin well enough that they could have conversations without all this idle chitchat crap.

Ronin wasn't necessarily okay with Talon's beliefs, but he could tolerate and even accept them to some extent. What he wasn't willing to accept were the beliefs of someone who was intent on making him believe the same, someone who insisted on arguing that his lack of faith was wrong. When that happened, Ronin would insult their religion all he liked, but he wasn't going to bash Christianity to Talon when the boy was being perfectly gracious about it. Ronin didn't feel like he was being judged, and in turn, he was willing to try his best not to judge Talon. If religion was what made him feel better at the end of the day, so be it. It wasn't as if Ronin's own beliefs and behaviors weren't questionable or even morally reprehensible, and he couldn't deny it either, even if he took up a defensive stance most of the time. He felt he had plenty of good reasons for why he was the way he was, and Talon was likely the same. When it came to religion, they might have irreconcilable differences, but didn't mean they couldn't get along or discover other things they had in common.

"You're exactly right. A guessing game. This whole place is a guessing game." Ronin's eyes took on a thoughtful, reflective look as well, though the overall effect was rather stormy, his blue eyes flashing and churning like the ocean when dark clouds were rolling overhead. He didn't glower at Talon; rather, he directed that look inward, at the dismal, depressing nature of his own thoughts as he considered the number of days and hours spent wasted since he'd passed through the gates of Hadley's Phoenicia campus. His youth was disappearing right in front of his eyes, and it was one of the reasons why he was so angry all the time. His mother had taken his innocence, and as if that wasn't enough, St. Christina's was stripping the rest of his youth from him. He'd get no enjoyment out of it for as long as he lived bound by convention and restriction. It was a crime, a damned shame, dare he even say a waste of his potential? He wasn't interested in being groomed for society, wasn't interested in leading a dull, banal life working nine-to-five in some corporate office tower, but that seemed to be what everyone else wanted from him. Why was that kind of life championed by the media? Why was that the kind of life people professed to want? It wasn't true. Humanity was a darker animal than they led themselves to believe, and there would always be monsters under the bed. Refusing to acknowledge them wouldn't make them go away. Masking the problem only ever made it worse, and that was exactly what St. Christina's was doing to him with the unmarked, unnamed pills they gave him every morning. Medication was nothing more than concealer, like the kind girls applied in front of their mirrors before school. It could hide the ugliness, but it couldn't destroy it. Nothing could.

A Christian, drug-addicted prostitute. Okay, that was one Ronin hadn't heard before. He leaned forward on his elbows in one smooth, swift motion, his attention held rapt. Now this was one story he wanted to hear. "Oh, I always want to know, Talon," he uttered huskily, fingernails clicking against the tabletop as he tapped his fingers. "I love hearing everyone's dirty little secrets." His smile was sharp-edged and feline, a sulty, razorblade smile, like shards of broken glass draped in dark, velveteen fabric. And he's gay too? Well, wasn't that just the cherry topping on the sundae. "Oh my, it certainly does sound like you've led an interesting life." He rearranged his body under the table, shifting one hip so that he could crook one leg over the other. What did Talon's God think about that? He would have asked if he wasn't trying so hard to steer clear of the "religion" debate. Pushing his tray away from him, he bent one arm at the elbow to run long, slim fingers through fine, golden hair. Ronin looked like an angel, but his outer radiance was deceptive, because there was nothing but darkness inside of him. Lascivious thoughts were never too far from his mind and he would never live up to the whole "innocence-and-light" routine his hair color seemed to suggest. Can't judge a book by its cover. Cliche? Yes. But also true.

He was beginning to learn this with Talon too. The last thing he'd expected of the boy was exactly what he was hearing, because if Talon looked like anything, a prostitute was not it. The drug-addict thing was negotiable, but he would never in a million years have guessed that he'd been a prostitute. It was an intriguing shock, to say the least. Before Ronin could ask him about any of it, Talon was already moving on, asking him why he was there. He supposed the real discussion could only begin once he'd confessed his sins too. "I'm a danger to myself, apparently. Possibly to others as well. I say I've got a weird kink and should just be left to my own devices, but the powers-that-be beg to differ." He lifted one shoulder in a shrug that was at once careless and elegant. "Danger is my drug. But apparently I'm not so dangerous that I can't go into town on the weekends." Another razorblade grin, flashed so quickly it might never have been there. "I'm not sure how long that's going to last, but I'm really looking forward to it. You figure they've got cameras all over this island?" He tilted his head into his palm, piercing Talon with questioning eyes and wondering what kind of havoc he could wreak before he inevitably got shipped off to Ward A. It was only a matter of time before that happened. Ronin was not, and never would be, a good boy.

Talon was currently undergoing a battle between two equally powerful forces. In the blue corner, there were the raging, roiling hormones of a teenage boy--especially a teenage boy who had been sexually active since the age of eleven, and prostituting himself since twelve. The way Ronin was sitting, the way he moved, the aura that seemed to surround him--had he let the hormones have control, it would have been all he could do to stop from pulling the other boy into a broom closet and stripping. In the red corner--and a slightly more powerful opponent, although the hormones were more agile--was Talon's rational thought. You're in a mental institution, it chanted at him. So's he. Neither one of you is here because you stole a dime from the candy store. Besides, the last time you let your dick take the lead you got arrested for taking it up the ass on a trampoline. Down, boy. He wasn't going to do anything--yet--but damn, it was going to cost him a bit of effort.

Ronin's voice, as he said he wanted to know, sent a shiver down Talon's spine. He masked his feelings with effort and merely smiled in response. "Interesting," he echoed. "Well, I guess that's one word for it. 'Insane' might be another. But I guess considering I grew up in an environment that was basically one step away from being a cult, I got off lucky. I could have had--" He stopped himself. He had been about to make a snide comment about polygamy and sexual proclivity, but remembered two things. First of all, he hadn't exactly led a morally blameless life when it came to sex...obviously...and therefore was not in a position to judge anyone on their sexual proclivities. Second of all, Tara Anne had been a member of a church that could have been considered a cult, except that it was a recognized religious denomination, and she had been in a polygamous marriage and ended up with a child. It wasn't something to joke about. "Anyway, I got off lucky, all things considered. Really lucky if you consider that I'm healthy as a horse." The temptation to leer and add that he didn't have any STDs was easier to squash than most. After all...remember Jackson.

He pushed his tray out of the way as well and propped his chin on his clasped hands, studying Ronin. A weird kink, huh? Before he could ask, the other boy had already explained that he got off on danger. Talon nodded. "I'm inclined to agree with you. You're not hurting anyone else--how do you deserve to be locked up here?" He shrugged. "The consequenses of being underage, I guess. Do you think we'll be given any say over whether or not we get to leave when we turn eighteen, now that there's an adult facility here too?" Somehow he doubted it, though. Those forms they had been given to fill out had been pretty thorough and left Talon with the impression that G. R. Biotech now owned his body, soul, and firstborn son. Although maybe since he was in Ward C, that meant he would be more than likely able to leave the facility at eighteen...although he may not be leaving the island. Especially not if--he terminated that line of thought as quickly as he could. Boy, you're just foaming at the mouth to be hurt, aren't you?

Ronin's next comments, however, stunned the rational part of his mind, giving his hormones the slightest advantage. You figure they've got cameras all over this island? A seemingly innocuous statement, but..."I don't know," he answered honestly. "I would guess not. I mean, they've got normal people living here too, and they didn't sign their rights to privacy away. They can't monitor them all the time." He hesitated, and then decided, what the hell, he would go for it. "I'm in C ward, so I can go out whenever I want, but I haven't yet. Want to go to town one of these weekends and find out about the cameras?"

A part of him couldn't believe he had asked that, especially since he was pretty sure Ronin would understand the question beneath the question. At the same time...

Ronin watched Talon's reactions carefully. Somehow, he had gotten under the boy's skin without having to try all that hard. But that was often the way of things with Ronin. It was in his nature to be suggestive and predatory, and if that didn't scare a person away, then it inevitably compelled them, urged them closer, like a fly into a spiderweb, wrapped in gossamer silk with no chance of escape. They were only free to go once he'd either grown bored or had his fill of them. Ronin had had to turn a lot of people down over the years. He led them on, toyed with them, and then disappeared when the next shiny enticement came into view. It wasn't deliberate cruelty; he just knew when something was worth pursuing and when it wasn't. The fact of the matter was that most people simply weren't worth his time. He could smell the potential for violence on people - or at the very least, obedience - and one or the other had to be there in order for Ronin to be interested. He needed a partner who was into risky sex, someone who wouldn't balk and pale when he asked to hit or choked, someone who was willing to do anything to help him achieve that elusive release.

Talon didn't strike him as a violent person, but if he'd been a prostitute, he'd probably done some exceptionally weird and freaky things over the years. People didn't pay for sex because they were looking for a little tenderness; they did it because only in the anonymity of some cheap motel could they lay down with a nameless stranger and do the sorts of things their spouses would never permit, and they didn't care if they had to pay a little extra for it. The kind of thing that Ronin wanted probably wouldn't even make Talon flinch, and if the other boy wanted him bad enough, surely he'd do it. Ronin wondered how hard he could squeeze, how much power and stamina was contained in that deceptively slight body. How much was he capable of? How far would he go? It struck him briefly that maybe he shouldn't be flirting with a kid who was trying to get on the straight and narrow path to good behavior, but he wasn't going to force Talon to do anything. Besides, he seemed to be enjoying the temptation. Ronin was hardly in a mood to cease and desist considering this was the most enjoyable conversation he'd had in weeks.

"I'm not sure my sexual history is as colorful as yours, but I'm happy to say I've got my health too." His mother had never bothered with protection of any kind, which meant that Ronin was doubly careful now. Diseases weren't the only things on his mind; he also didn't want any little Ronins running around, not now, not ever. The thought was horrifying. He couldn't bring a kid into this fucked up world, even if it was an accident, so he was careful, ever so careful. It didn't matter whether he was with a woman or a man, because there were risks that accompanied each one. He thought he deserved some credit for that, because most kids his age didn't seem to understand that little slice of common sense. "Anyway, I'm glad we see eye-to-eye, Talon. It's nice to hear that at least one person doesn't think I'm crazy, though you might change your tune if you heard the whole story." He raised an eyebrow, questioning whether or not it really would sound that crazy to someone like Talon, who'd more than likely been through his fair share of horrors too. "You're welcome to hear it any time of course, but I'm much more interested in all this talk of the weekend." He leaned his chin on his fist, grinning brightly.

"And, you know, I'm not sure," he added, contemplating Talon's earlier question. "If they think we're not 'fixed' by the time we turn eighteen, we'll probably get moved to the adult facility. I'm actually shocked as hell they put me in Ward B and not A, but you'll hear no complaints from me. Ward C...that's a lot of freedom. A lot of time to fill. I'd love to go into town and test that theory, if you're sure you really want to... I don't want to pressure you into anything." He shrugged, feigning harmlessness, but both he and Talon knew that what they were discussing was anything but. Ronin, however, didn't feel that he had much to lose. Was it the same for Talon? "I could use a little excitement in my life, that's for damn sure."

The rational part of Talon's brain caught up to his hormones, and he hesitated. Was he really going to take this step? Time to weigh up the facts. Fact One: he was probably right. There probably weren't cameras all over the island. And as long as they were back on the grounds by the time curfew rolled around, there shouldn't be any suspicions, any issues. There had to be places where a couple of consenting adults (okay, they weren't adults yet, but they were both consenting) could enjoy a little...personal time...without being watched by security and staff. And without it being recorded, or going in their files.

Fact Two: he was, to be perfectly honest, horny as hell. He hadn't had sex in more than six months and it was starting to drive him just the slightest bit crazy. Masturbating didn't particularly help, as most people who paid for sex--at least the people who paid him--weren't paying to bottom. He wasn't a dominatrix or anything like that. Men who hired male prostitutes--and, for that matter, women who hired prostitutes--were usually out for power. They wanted to prove they were better than he was. Talon honestly preferred bottoming; he was used to having little or no control over his sexual situations, and when he had been prostituting himself, he would have done anything to get his drugs, or the money to obtain them. He got the impression that Ronin would be the sort to top, and that would be helpful.

Fact Three: Ronin had already told him his kink was danger. That was the first "con" Talon had come up with. He had put up with a lot of things. Men who hired male prostitutes, especially married men, usually felt guilty as hell about doing it. Hiring female prostitutes was practically normal, but hiring for gay sex was...well, a lot of married men saw it as shameful, but they needed it. So they would take it out on Talon. None of them had ever left permanent scars, but they had come damn close. And Henry had only been gentle the first time. He didn't get off on danger, but he got off on pain. Talon wasn't sure how much he was willing to put up with.

Fact Four: the administration, for some unfathomable reason, trusted Talon. He had been given all the freedoms of Ward C. Could he really bring himself to abuse those privileges? Because they were privileges, not rights. They could be taken away at any moment. Was one afternoon of pleasure worth the risk?

After the longest thirty seconds of his life, Talon reached a decision. They were only talking about going and exploring the island, after all. And he could--hopefully--convince Ronin to put a safeword in place if they did decide to do anything physical, and if it started going too far he could ask him to stop. He was grasping at straws and he knew it; this wasn't traditional sadomasochism, where the masochist was actually the one in the relationship with the power. If things progressed too far, even if Talon said no, once they started he didn't think he could stop them.

"Sure. It's a d--it's a plan." He smiled, knowing he probably wasn't fooling anyone--he was nervous. "What do you say to Fourth of July weekend? It'll be a holiday, so people will probably be paying less attention than usual. We can...explore uninhibited."

If Talon was worried that any possible encounter between he and Ronin would leave him with scars, he didn't have to be. Ronin wasn't all that interested in hurting other people, though he could get into it if they asked or if he thought that was what they wanted. The only time he was deliberately looking to hurt somebody was when they pissed him off to the point of blind, uncontrollable rage, and so far, Talon hadn't. He wouldn't have said no to a fight at this point, anything to get his blood boiling, but that wasn't what he was going to find with Talon. He didn't mind. Anything to take the edge off, that was all he was looking for, and that could be done in so many different ways.

Ronin wasn't a sadist, nor was he really a masochist. Pain helped him get off, but it wasn't a necessity. Even the thrill of getting caught might work for him at this point. Maybe it wouldn't be all that dangerous, but he didn't know much about the sorts of people GR employed. Who knew what might happen if he got on the wrong side of a trigger-happy security officer, or one who just liked to wield their weapon with authority. He doubted any of them would shoot an unarmed kid, but just seeing a gun pointed at him might be enough to give him the sort of rush that would last for days. And if that didn't happen, maybe he could convince Talon to hurt him just enough to get that old adrenaline flowing...

A host of possible scenarios flooded his mind, scenes involving the water, the rocky edges of cliffs. He knew very well he might prove to be too much for Talon to handle, but there was no harm in trying. If nothing else, at least he could say he'd befriended the boy, and that was undoubtedly a point in his favor. It was better than having no friends at all. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed having someone he could confide in, rely on, someone he could vent to when he got tired of listening to the circular, ceaseless nature of his own thoughts. Maybe he could at least get a lid on his anger if he had someone to talk to instead of keeping it bottled up all the time. That was one thing he wouldn't mourn being free of. Having IED was like walking around with a bomb strapped to your back. You couldn't see the clock on it, never knew when it was going to go off and the next explosion rocked you and the poor, unfortunate soul that happened to be standing in your blast radius at the time.

Talon was clearly nervous about their arrangement, even though the date he was setting was nearly a month away. Perhaps it was those very nerves that made him set it back so far, but Ronin realized that he had a point about the Fourth of July weekend. He wasn't sure about island staff, but most of the residents would probably be going away, which might give them more privacy, and even if they didn't leave, they'd be getting drunk, singing songs, starting fires and setting off fireworks, presumably, like anywhere else in the country, which would keep security on their toes. Adults were known to get rowdier than teenagers during holidays, especially Independence Day. The last thing anyone would be worried about was what the kids were getting up to, and besides, there would be plenty of stupid troublemakers right out in the open to keep security busy without them having to look for the sneaky ones. Ronin wasn't stupid and he didn't think Talon was either; with their brains combined, there was doubt in his mind they'd find some way to break the rules and not get caught.

"A plan it is. It'll be fun." Ronin didn't like the idea of waiting so long, but if nothing else, it was something to look forward to, and at least he'd have some alone time to enjoy the psuedo-freedom of Ward B beforehand. He could do some scouting on his own before he and Talon went out, see what he could find, maybe even sniff around the locals, play normal and nice and hear what they had to say, how much information they were willing to part with. "So what are your plans between now and then? Just trying to keep your nose clean? I guess what I'm trying to ask is what you normally do for fun around here." He smirked, hunching over his tray to disinterestedly pick at the remnants of his meal.

Talon had no idea why he was suddenly nervous. It wasn't like he wasn't interested in Ronin--he was. It was just the idea of actually acting on it. For the last six months he had been, essentially, celibate. Clean of both his drug addiction and his sex...thing. What if giving in to his desires, letting Ronin do his thing, led him back down the path that had led him here? What if he ended up trying to seduce residents of Green Ridge? What if--God forbid--he somehow acquired a vial of cocaine and a needle? Would St. Christina's be able to save him a second time? And would the temporary bliss from either activity really be worth the loss of privileges he would be sure to get? Only that morning he had been looking through the classified ads at part-time jobs he was allowed to apply for as a Ward C resident. He could lose everything--just for one afternoon of ecstasy.

Mentally, he grabbed himself by the shoulders and shook himself. Get a grip, Rogers, he told himself sternly. All they were talking about was exploring the island together. Maybe fooling around a little, but there wasn't necessarily any talk of going the whole way--maybe just some kissing, some heavy petting. It didn't have to go all the way to actual sex. And since it was the Fourth of July, maybe they would just end up watching fireworks together. Then again, they had to be back on the St. Christina's grounds by eight, and the sun didn't set 'til closer to nine, so they likely wouldn't be out during the fireworks displays. Although that also meant that anything they did do wouldn't have the added security of the cover of darkness, but...he had a feeling that was the way Ronin would like it.

At Ronin's question, Talon hesitated again. "Well...I don't know, really. I read a lot, so sometimes I'll just go out onto the grounds with an apple and a book and just sit and read. And I love to sing...if I can find a piano anywhere on the premesis, I'll probably spend a fair amount of time there." He tried to remember what else he had done at Hadley that he might be able to do here, and failed. "I'll probably wander around town a bit, too...just to get my bearings, you know? Do some exploring. I might even get a part-time job." He regretted that as soon as he'd said it--it almost sounded like he was bragging, which wasn't his intention. He just wanted to be able to have some pocket money in case he wanted to treat somebody to something at some point. "What about you? What do you do for fun?"