Creative...how creative could you be when you had a timer over you head that counted down toward your death? (--or potential maiming. Some capes thought they were interchangeable.) But regardless of his figurative Doomsday Clock, Hartley still had a promise to keep.

Even if it was a ridiculous, glitter-covered one.

He was rather impressed with the selection of supplies provided. Most elementary schools would sacrifice their third grade class to Neron for this much crap. So after a quick look around, he grabbed up some construction paper and yarn and dropped it off at one of the middle tables (a place easily spotted), and returned for glitter and cheap paint.

As he set out with white paint smeared all over his fingers, he wondered that perhaps later he should come back (or just steal some supplies for himself) and make something for James. He was sure the other would have approved of nothing less than a glitter and macaroni portrait. Hart offered a quiet chuckle to the idea, wondering idly what the man would say if he could see his Piper now.

'Hey--watch out. You're going to smear that and mess up the sign! And what's this--? M-I-N-D...T-H-E...F-O-R...

Hey, Hart, how come I don't have a sign from you, huh? I mean, I was only your best friend in the ENTIRE WORLD.'

At that, Hart paused, a paint-slicked finger hesitating over the crossing of a 'T'. He...he really missed James more than he'd like to admit. He really missed home more than he'd like to admit. And here it was only his first day. How was he going to survive anyway?

"--one day at a time..." he sighed, words soft on the exhale. "One at a time." With that, he returned his attentions to the project at hand.

_{[For Statesman]}