Noel had suffered a tremendous idea overnight. A wonderfully brilliant notion that he could not get out of his head. As such, Marilyn in turn was suffering, naked and afraid on the Institute lot. Noel had stripped her of all her multicoloured paints and poetry, and left her sitting there in the bare-metal grey that she came with. And the reason for this? Noel was going to repaint her, with sigils, and he wanted to rope the students and staff of the Institute in to help him.

A few dozen cans of spray paints sat on a table, a variety of different colours dotted within them and with masks and goggles in accompaniment for protection. He'd haphzardly made a sign reminding people not to wear clothes they cared about, and waited patiently for the onslaught of interested Mutants to come and see what was going on with the now-infamous converted shortbus. You name a bus after Marilyn Monroe, decorate it in swirly colours and divine comedy quotes... It gets attention.

Or that might have been all in his imagination.

Either way, anyone could jump in, cause some chaos on her surface. At least he'd had the foresight to put masking tape over the windows and whatnot.