<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/iN6N3iL.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Salem Summers<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Field, track, bleachers<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Sept. 1st, 7:10 am<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>OPEN<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Salem's just finished with a morning run. Not connected to other scenes, but nearly simultaneous.<br/><hr/>Salem had been too focused on feeling for the sun’s energy when Bishop came walking toward her to hear his steps. She tried to be extra observant at every opportunity. Cyclops didn’t have any heightened senses as a power, she had to keen the senses she did have in order to stay up at the center of the curve, or better. So when she heard his voice, she had to be patient, and careful. She had to be aware. Her glasses were off. She could feel them in her fingers. She focused on the sensation of the material. A less focused Salem might have looked over without thinking about it. That Salem didn’t exist anymore, she couldn’t, not if she wanted to control her own life. The first step was always the same. Always.<em>'Keep your goddamned eyes covered, Salem.’</em>She smiled, recognizing Bishop’s voice.<strong>“Yeah.”</strong>there was a slight uptick in her voice that almost made it sound like she was asking a question. Calmly, she returned her ruby quartz to her eyes and settled the frames into place. She turned to the incoming masculine masterpiece and opened her eyes.<strong> “Always improve, right?” </strong>She was still breathing heavily, but her health was obvious in the chipper crispness of each syllable in her tired chest.<strong>“I need to do something about my legs, I’m not getting as fast as I want to get. Something’s holding me back.” </strong>She didn’t know what it was, it could have been strength training, or it could have been her form. She knew that Bishop wasn’t the man to ask, he wasn’t exactly known for his sprinting.<br/><br/>Salem’s wild teenage life had stretched into her twenties. She’d yet to be treated like a woman by a man. So, many things were still unknown to her, tantalizing in their very nature for that reason. Men were still a puzzle for her that she’d not yet solved. So naturally, most men intimidated her, Bishop was no exception, even with his age, that didn’t bother her anymore<br/><br/>However, the young mutant had no inclination as to what kinds of thoughts a man could have. She didn’t have the slightest inclination as to how she might make one feel. So, Bishop’s train of thought was right on course. She was no more than a school girl happy to see a friendly face.<br/><br/><strong>“Ha,” </strong>Salem started to gather her things. It wasn’t the first time these two had crossed paths on this routine. He would know full well that she only had a few minutes to chat with him. So, she gathered her things early while their whereabouts were still fresh in her mind. Everything was put away as she responded to Bishop. It was well known to most of the staff that Salem’s most destructive habit was in her inclination to skip meals.<strong>“Me and breakfast? Because those two things go together.”</strong>She liked to shrug it off with whatever comedic bone she had in her body.  Finished packing, Salem shrugged the strap of her book bag onto her shoulder; turning to face Bishop with her bright red stare and flushed cheeks.<strong>“Do you have any tasty suggestions?”</strong>The only thing she could usually ingest before eleven am was water and yogurt.<strong> “I’ll give it a shot before class, I swear.”</strong>As much of a problem as it was, the little exchanges like this were what kept her straight, and there was a sincerity in her intonation and body language that was as honest as it was incidental.<br/><br/>