[Isaac Williams]

"You know." He started, looking up at the sky. "I've been thinking about getting a dog lately." He looked over to where his sister was standing, eyebrows raised. He'd yet to actually ask her why she'd come, though, he supposed it wasn't that hard to figure out.

He didn't know how she'd survived this long. At least he and Mina had gotten away early. Grace hadn't been quite as lucky. As a teenager, he'd always wondered if she resented them for leaving. For being mutants.

"We never had a dog growing up. I feel like we missed out."

[Grace Williams]

It was never easy getting to know a sibling who had a twin. They hadn't been the easiest pair to grow up with, if only because their connection and subsequent devotion to each other was absolute. Grace didn't blame them; how could she? They were kids, and then they were gone. But they never came back.

Hands in her pockets, she grinned as she looked towards him finally. The random thoughts that fluttered in and out of his head were still captivating, no matter how small. "They make a mess. You'll be bored of it in a week." She easily rattled off the excuses she remembered hearing when she was younger.

"Go on, then." Grace had never been good at not indulging in whatever the family wanted: "What's stopping you?"

[Isaac Williams]

She wasn't wrong, of course. Still, he couldn't quite hide his amusement. "You sound like mom." He quipped. He'd realized she'd become much easier to talk to now that he no longer was a child - and it helped that she'd moved closer, too. 

Looking towards the sky, all he offered was a simple shrug. He had never been one to commit to anything, let alone the life of another living being. While the idea was tempting, that was all it was: A fleeting idea. One of many. All bred and formed from the heat of the moment.

She was probably right: He would be bored after a week.

"How's work?"

[Grace Williams]

That shrug looked like his way of easing effortlessly out of delving further into the conversation he started. Maybe he didn't know the answer, or maybe Grace's swinging attempt at pretending to sound like their mother had uncovered some harsh truths for him. She was good like that.

Eyes searched out at all the idle people who wandered around this place. Nothing in particular was worth looking at, but the destination didn't matter.

"Hot." She retorted, and then she laughed. It wasn't an easy job to explain to anyone, so she offered the first word that popped into her head. "I got enough worrying phone calls from home in the last month to last a lifetime."

[Isaac Williams]

Isaac could only imagine what their mother had said about Grace becoming a firefighter. Truly, he didn't see the big deal in it. Granted, it could be a potentially dangerous job, but crossing the streets could be dangerous too, so what was the point in fussing?

"As long as you're enjoying what you do, that's all that really matters." He offered with a simple shrug. He wouldn't have cared if she was a firefighter - or a prostitute. Though, the latter did sound like it'd offer more shocking stories around the dinner table when they all went home for the holidays.

[Grace Williams]

It was nice for a change that someone seemed to accept and care about what she wanted. Kinder eyes turned their gaze on him at the remark he made. Grace hadn't been in town all that long, but everyone she'd met who knew him barely had anything nice to say. She was beginning to chalk all the talk up to bitter people over it being an accurate layout of his actions and attitude.

"What about you, though?" She had to ask, watching him with curiosity; "Is college just like you always pictured it would be?" Personally, she was incredibly glad she never went. It was never something that went down particularly well at home, but she'd never been one to fit the family plan anyway.

[Isaac Williams]

He considered her question for a moment; What, exactly, had he expected to gain from college? "I'm not sure I pictured it to be anything, really." He offered with a shrug. "It just... Is." His sister was the one actually enjoying it. He often felt like he was around for the ride, simply because he had nowhere else to go - and nothing else to do.

In that way, he envied his sisters. They'd seemingly known exactly what they wanted to do and while writing was a passion of is, studying it killed all the fun out of it.

[Grace Williams]

For Grace, the idea of college felt so striking in a negative way. She'd never liked school to begin with, but to do it all over again when it was a free choice felt like a total killer. For him, he didn't have a choice. That's what there was in the line he pursued. Or so he seemed to think.

"When you didn't come home, I figured you were sticking around for something good." She admitted, shrugging her shoulders. Easing down, she moved to sit against the grass, leaning back to let the back of her head hit it a second later.

"How do they even teach you how to write?" She tried anyway, arms swinging underneath her head, "Don't you just do it?"

[Isaac Williams]

"Mina." He said simply. Really, that was his only reason for staying. He'd spent his entire life by her side and he wasn't quite sure he was ready to break that connection yet. Even if it was hard for either of them to explain exactly what that connection was.

A chuckle fell from his lips as he joined her down on the ground. He brushed some grass away from his pants before settling. "Yes, one would think." He mused, closing his eyes. "We get assignments. A set of rules to follow. If we don't follow them correctly, or don't use proper grammar, we lose points." It was tedious at best, but it did make him a better writer.

"How do they teach you to extinguish a flame?" He countered. "Don't you just do it?"

[Grace Williams]

Despite how some may have seen Isaac, there was something very obvious about how much he cared. At least, it seemed that way to Grace. Would any of the people he knew really believe he'd stick around just for his sister? She doubted it. His reputation preceded him so easily.

"Points." She repeated the word he used. She wasn't really the creative type, and he obviously knew that, but it all sounded so stifling.

"Oh well that depends on what kind of flame." Grace mused, like he really meant the question; "Sometimes water just makes it worse, and then all those firefighting for dummies classes just end up being a waste."

And with that, she was pretty sure she'd snuffed the counter out. That wasn't what she wanted to talk about. She wasn't done with him yet; "But I'm serious about you. How important is a college degree to writing like, a book? Do you feel like you learn a lot?" Grace had never read his work, but she automatically assumed he was naturally good at whatever he wanted to do.

[Isaac Williams]

A simple smile was all he offered at her joke: It was fairly obvious that his point hadn't hit home quite as he'd hoped, but it didn't really matter. He wasn't prideful enough to really let it, he realized. It was quickly made clear that the focus of their conversation was meant to be on him and the blonde simply huffed at that.

"Not much." He admitted with ease. "But it does make me a better writer." At least there was that. His schooling was sharpening his ability to write. It made him more aware of his weaknesses.

Pushing off the ground, Isaac stood. He brushed some grass off of his pants and stretched his arms. "I've started it. Might as well finish."

[Grace Williams]

There was something positive in the way Isaac spoke about his studies. At least he didn't hate it. And even better for that, he found it to be an important part of what he was hoping to achieve. He was right in a way; training in every field must have been important.

Had she been their mother, she would have started in on how it wasn't the best choice to make a living off. Thankfully, she didn't share the view.

"Come on," Grace tried then, a grin to her lips as she kicked him with her foot lightly, "You gotta be writing something at the moment. What is it?"

[Isaac Williams]

While Isaac would never go as far as call himself insecure about anything, there was something about showing off his writing that struck a chord. He did it for class, naturally, but never anything he wrote in private. It was always something he'd prepared for an assignment.

Hands slid into his pockets and his lips turned downward. "I'm writing a story about a woman taming fires for a living. She's very curious and the two rarely goes well together." He turned to look at her, his head tilting. "She's also nearing her thirties and it's starting to show."