The flight had been, for lack of a better word, completely and utterly fucking miserable and Ava was going to shoot whoever booked it for her. Okay, so that was more than one word. What the fuck ever. And that layover in Paris had been completely unnecessary (she hadn’t minded the layover in Amsterdam – that’d be kind of fun but that was a story for another day). She didn’t need snotty ass Frogs glaring at her for not speaking French let alone not speaking. Then she’d had to make a mad dash to her next gate, lamenting she didn’t get to go sight seeing (despite the Frogs) and also worrying that her luggage wouldn’t make the transfer... If those bastards lost her harp, she was going to strangle a bitch. Okay, beside the point.

Her arrival in New York had been filled with paranoia to say the least which she had honestly expected and she had prepared some phrases in her notebook while flying. One of which had almost been a really nasty reference to terrorism but that was only because she was in a foul mood having been trapped between two large Albanian women for thirteen hours (hence the layovers – to make it faster). So she had eventually declared her reasons for coming into the country after making the customs guy horrified that he’d insulted a disabled person, gotten everything in order and then gathered her things (harp included – yay).

She had, unfortunately, had to take a van cab to fit her harp case in along with her two over stuffed duffle bags. Ava had packed like she was never going to see home again... Just in case. At one point, she had managed to convince her cab driver to A – go past FAO Scharz just to show it to her and then B - bought him a slice of pizza so they could make their official way to the institute. Apparently now she was his favorite fare of the day and, Hell, she wasn’t going to argue that.

Eventually, the van cab had pulled up to the gates of the Institute and her cab driver had helped her unload. She paid the man, sorely hoping that the Institute would reimburse her for the trouble (but not for the delicious greasiness that was New York pizza). Duffle bags on the ground and harp case standing firm, she sought out a way to get someone’s attention. Man, her coat was not warm enough for this New England weather... She shivered a little, momentarily lost as to what to do at the giant gate preventing her entrance into what was apparently her new home or sanctuary or... school. God, that terrified her. She hadn’t been to school in awhile. She was going to be so behind.

Finally Ava spotted the buzzer and pressed it... And held it for an annoyingly long time until letting go. Well, likely that would get someone’s attention anyway. That’s all she wanted. Ava pulled her coat a little tighter around her, huffing out a breath just to watch the air puff.

Carrying the main gate security intercom was a daily job, at least as far as the X-Men were concerned. They all took turns at being on duty, at being the one to field all visitors at the Main Gate. It was something of a hassle, for all that Ororo blessed the person who had made the intercom portable so she didn't have to stay sat at a desk for her shifts, but it was the price to be paid for security after all - the Institute was enough of a secret that having strangers just wandering onto campus was a big, big no-no, so could one blame them for having alien-inspired rather intense and high-tech security systems in place?

So, for the safety of the mutant children who called the Institute their home, lugging the security-com around at one's hip just went hand in hand with being an X-Man. And it was something that someone had to do every day.

Welcoming a new student to the Institute - a student that Charles had found in Liverpool of all places - was not, however. And it was this side of things that made the tedium worth it.

Ororo had been aware of the girl's flight plans (after all, seventeen year old mutants rarely turned up on the doorstep of a secret mutant school without any warning) but it wasn't until the small machine at her hip buzzed and beeped at her that she realised their new student was actually here at the gates. Her fingers unhooked the gadget from her jean loops and she fiddled with it until the wings of the screen unfolded and she got the security camera's view of the newcomer.

Young, female, decidedly student-looking. This was almost certainly the girl from England. Now Ororo had very little information on the specifics of the girl other than her name, Ava, but it seemed that this younger Charles felt the same as the older version of himself had regarding letting the young students they recruited control how much information people had about them. The white-haired woman was calm and content in her trust that the telepath would have shared any pertinent facts if the girl's power was volatile or dangerous, but what she knew of the girl was limited to this - that her name was Ava, that she'd flown in from Britain and that she was mute.

The fact still remained that Ororo, though multilingual in many ways, had only a passing knowledge of ASL and that was possibly going to be a problem. Maybe it would have been more convenient to send Jean down, a woman who had alternate methods of communication available to her, but right now there was a girl waiting on their front doorstep.

Jean could be found later. For now, however, Ororo would have to do. "Someone will be right with you," she said into the microphone part of the com system and then she was off, walking with quick grace through the winding, wood-panelled corridors of the Institute towards the main doors. Through those she went, out into the icy air that her own mutation shielded her against, and Ororo padded down the elegant curve of the driveway towards the gates and the waiting mutant.

"You must be Ava," the white-haired woman said with quiet warmth, stopping before the wrought metal gates and starting to key in the complicated codes that would open them. "Welcome to the Xavier Institute. I hope the journey wasn't too tiring a one?"

A female voice gave her a return answer? Someone would be right with her? Shouldn’t they have been bloody well prepared to receive her, Queen of E—Okay, so it was entirely plausible, nay even probable that they hadn’t been exactly sure when she would arrive. That wasn’t really the point though, okay? The point was that she was standing out here in the bloody cold freezing her tiny ass off. She huffed an annoyed breath and started bouncing up and down on her heels. Up, down, up, down, oh God she was going to freeze to death before anyone came out here. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she started to stomp her feet and move around in a circle. Not because it would keep her warm, mind you, but because it was a mild temper tantrum.

Finally a voice – Ava turned towards the female sounding person and was greeted with the sight of a white haired black woman. That was the weirdest combination she’d seen in awhile and she’d seen the Albanian women. Still, this woman was letting her past the gate, eventually, so she had to be polite. Her journey? Her eyes widened a little and she would have been laughing in a miserable and tired sort of way but the fact of the matter was that not a sound escaped her. Not even a squeak. Maybe a few sounds of breath but that was entirely beside the point.

Ava fished a notebook out of one of her pockets and pushed the pen out of the spiral part, scribbling down, Oh no. Thirteen hours and three countries later... Not that long at all. Look, it’s all well and good you know my name but I don’t have yours. And I know this will seem rude, but mind you again I haven’t really slept being squashed between two of the hairiest, sweatiest women I have ever seen in my life and not even getting to enjoy Paris or Amsterdam, can we follow at least some of the minor social protocols and let me know who you are so I know who to curse when I’m getting, like, detentions or something?

She had written surprisingly quickly but that didn’t mean her handwriting was the best. Still it was legible enough and she showed the page to the white haired woman, trying not to look too annoyed. Mostly she just looked cold. Really, really fucking cold. Stupid coded gates and their stupid security...

The cold air had little impact on a woman whose mutation gifted her with enhanced tolerances to the ravages of the weather and Ororo's lack of awareness of the icy temperatures was apparent in the bareness of her clavicles and forearms where her shirt collar gaped and the sleeves were rolled up. Heat didn't faze her, the cold didn't chill her, but she wasn't without sympathy for those who were less...adapted to the weather of Westchester in February.

But, as the gates slid smoothly open (testament to an excellent maintenance team with an eye for detail) Ororo resisted arching one pale eyebrow when the new student started scribbling away in a notebook. It made sense that a mute young woman had developed a system, so apparently Ororo's rudimentary knowledge of ASL would not be needed today, but the teacher was surprised that that was the first port of call for the newcomer when it came to trying to communicate.

With no barriers between them now that the gates had fully opened, Ororo scanned the page of written words that represented what Ava wanted to communicate...and, this time, did raise an eyebrow. Apparently the girl wasn't going to allow non-traditional communication to stop her personality from seeping through into the 'conversation' and, really, Ororo was a tolerant woman and could acknowledge that anyone would be cranky after any sort of long journey...but today and only today would Ava be allowed to get away with such rudeness. A calm woman, Ororo valued people's ability to be mature, patient and willing to smooth social interactions over so that everyone at the Institute could co-exist and, for today only, she would allow Ava the benefit of the doubt since travel seemed to bring out the worst in everyone.

"Long flights are occasionally a valid excuse for rudeness," Ororo said placidly enough as she keyed in the next set of codes necessary to close the gate and 'seal' the Institute once more. "I'm Ororo Munroe, though you may hear me referred to as 'Storm' when I'm on duty, and the children tend to go down the 'Miss Munroe' route." Somehow, she doubted Ava would be someone who would need to ever know that her friends tended to call her 'Ro for ease, convenience and a certain efficiency of syllables. "Though we generally give our new students, oh, at least a week before issuing detentions."

The white-haired woman gestured towards the long curve of the driveway leading up to the Institute. "Let's get you in out of the weather and I can start to show you around. Which of your bags would you like me to take?" It wasn't the most dramatic of welcomes for a new student, but it was an honest one. Practical as well. A lot like the Institute itself when life wasn't going to hell in a hand basket...

Ava managed to at least get her things past the gate which was hard but that was all her fault and she wasn’t about to blame Ororo for the security. When you had a school full of freaky kids, you had to be extra careful. And maybe because it was like a fucking mansion and there were probably lots of good things to steal... Hmm – no she didn’t have to think like that right now. She didn’t have to steal. They were going to give her a room and feed her and shit. It was cool.

She winced a little at the woman’s words, knowing that she’d probably stepped over the line but that was not the point right now. The... children? She wondered what ‘the children’ called Ororo behind her back to compensate for her condescending attitude towards them. Then again, that was once again Ava probably just being rude and jumping to conclusions. I’ll try to be more careful, Miss Munroe, she managed to write without rolling her eyes, I grew up rough though so it might take me a few tries to get it right. Don’t mean anything by it. Unless she pulled that ‘children’ shit again towards her...

Getting in out of the weather sounded like a fantastic idea. So did a tour. And mostly just being warm. One of the duffel bags if you don’t mind? No one touches my harp case if I can help it – no offense. She put the notebook away and put the pencil behind her ear, then shouldered one bag and then took the handle of the case. Thankfully it had wheels so it wouldn’t be too difficult to get up the drive. She was ready to go and gave Ororo a nod to express that. But hopefully the woman wouldn’t expect her to answer any questions along the way.