Snippet #2409167

Sara watched the dance for a little bit. Meet and greet, tearful goodbyes, the whole shtick. For some reason, it all put an absurd grin on her face. The live-in students seemed to be handling it well enough, minus a few look-what-I-can-do pranks, so Laughlin really didn't see a reason to stick her nose in. She was a guest, and that afforded her the opportunity to do absolutely nothing but watch like a creeper. Which is a lot of fun, surprisingly.

After draining her coffee, she pushed off from the wall and exited the grand hallway to make for the kitchen and a refill. Inside? Who else but Spyke.

"Oh, thank God, a glass." She chuckled and nodded at him, filling her own mug with coffee and retrieving the rest of the milk for a splash.

"You have no idea how many times I come in here and some clown is chugging straight from the communal carton."

The older woman faces the doorway back into the hall, but the growing crowd apparently makes her reconsider, and she turns to lean against a counter instead. She wasn't X-man, and she wasn't staff, but seemed to be here under the same 'welcomed guest' condition that Logan breezed around under, and had visited Spyke's aunt's office briefly - presumably to give her condolences.

"I know your face." She says after a moment of studying him, "You're Storm's nephew, right? She's got a picture of you on her desk. Name's Sara."

Taking a drink from her coffee, she still watches him over the rim of the mug. Her posture was easy, her tone was friendly, and her smile was genuine; but something around those gray eyes pinned him and picked him apart.

"You starting classes here at the Institute?"