[ I'm using all the American measurements here, so to my fellow Europeans, "below thirties" is in F and not in C. So he's saying in VA it rarely hits the freezing point.
]
One thing he immediately noticed about Maryland's difference to Virginia, other than the state being obviously smaller on the map, was that winters up here were colder. But then again, he had been born almost in the edge of North Carolina, and the orphanage he had been taken into over there hadn't been but few hundred miles over his birth town. Joa was used to stupidly hot and humid weathers, as in the South winters barely ever hit below thirties. And despite being already April, Baltimore was still cold. And this is why the fifteen year old boy with the scarred face had made sure to invest into warmer clothing together with the staff when he had heard the transfer was going to be an actual thing. Sure, most of his stuff were hand-me-downs or bought second-hand, but beggars can't be choosers. Much like the pilot jacket he was wearing right now to fend off the cold; it was a bit too large on his rather skinny figure, but it didn't look too offending on him with its worn brown leather and and bit scruffy white wool collar. In some odd way, it suited the boy and he managed to pull it off.
"You've got everything?" Asked the social worker who had driven together with Joa the whole journey as they stepped out of the vehicle. It was an old beat down Cadillac that had seen some better days, but the engine hadn't failed them even once in the journey. The police car pulled behind them; the needed escort to ensure everything went alright, despite Angie, his social worker, insisting that Joa was one of the most harmless kids in the flock. He wielded sarcasm more likely as his choice of weapon than his blood manipulating powers, but it was the
puns that made him truly dangerous, Angie had insisted on the assigned officers before the start of the journey. But unfortunately being one of the supernaturals, police escorts were the norm. No matter how harmless you were regarded as, the government would never stop being extra careful with handling kids like Joa. The attention always made him self-conscious and uncomfortable.
"Yep." Came the curt answer from the boy as he adjusted the duffel bag strap on his shoulder and slammed the car door closed behind him.
"Toothbrush?"
"Yes."
"Comb?"
"Yeah."
"Enough socks?"
"...Yes."
"Spare underw--"
"Okayyyy, now we're starting to breach my comfort zone there, Angie!"
Angie just chuckled as she locked the car doors. She was a lovely woman in her early fifties, with graying hair and few worry lines on her forehead and laughter lines crinkling the corners of her eyes whenever she laughed. Joa had known Angie since the beginning. She had been the assigned social worker for him who had come to pick him up from the hospital to take him away, and assured no other adult was going to harm him anymore. That had been eight years ago, and the two had been travelling Joa's journey together through thick and thin. Sometimes, Joa hoped Angie could have adopted him. But she was married and had kids of her own that had already left the house, and she dealt with kids like him already on daily basis; he suspected she didn't want to do that off the clock, and her husband probably shared that feeling. They were starting to be old enough to retire anyway, they had earned that. Not to mention how there was also the whole supernatural power thing that kind of made that impossible in the first place. Kids like Joa didn't have the privilege to have a family.
"Come on, then. Let's go see your new home." Angie patted Joa gently between the shoulder blades, who rolled them backwards and took a deep breath. Okay, time to man up. Meeting a new set of complete strangers? Not scary at all. Being judged by these said complete strangers? Totally not terrifying. Having to live with these totally judgemental set of strangers? Piece of cake.
He was going to throw up.
"...I think I'm going to be sick." Joa admitted to the woman as they started to make their way through the snowy road, his combat boots leaving prints in his wake. He grabbed the strap of the duffel bag, knuckles whitening as nervous butterflies were throwing a rave party in his stomach. Angie ruffled his messy hair, brushing away the snowflakes already tangled in his ashen brown locks, but not saying anything. There wasn't really anything she could say to make him feel better, and both of them knew it. He just hoped this would all pan out well and...
...What the shit?
He nearly stumbled on his own feet when he spotted some kids on the rooftop. Angie hadn't noticed, but Joa wasn't in any hurry to change that; he might have had ninety-nine problems, but being a snitch wasn't one of them. He gaped where he saw the figures, but then hurried to catch with the social worker. Was this kind of thing normal over here? A frown had appeared on the boy's face, but you couldn't really blame him. Seeing teenagers frolicking on rooftops wasn't exactly a normal occurrence from where he was coming from, at least.
Angie knocked on the door, ready to inform the staff that Joa had arrived and should be needed to be escorted into his new room and possibly shown around the vicinity.
