"Father, you could have warned me."
"I knew you were up to the challenge. You have the information, non?" Jean-Luc LeBeau asked.
"Oui, Papa." Remy gave up. It was impossible to get Jean-Luc to admit to doing anything wrong unless there was a major complication. There had been no complications.
"Good. Here's your contact."
"Merci. I'll set up the meet. Why didn't you tell me?"
"You should have figured it out yourself."
"I did. That's why I… Nevermind." Remy glanced at the paper and noted the name and contact information. He sent it up in smoke.
"Remy," his father sighed.
"What? I remember it." He tapped his head.
"The rest of us rely on other methods." Remy shrugged.
"Goodnight, Papa."
"Say hello to Belladonna for me."
"Of course." Remy slid through the streets of New Orleans with the instinctual ease of the thief he was. He was only vaguely surprised when he found his wife had settled into step next to him. He took her hand as they walked. She smiled at him, a bright flash of teeth before returning to whatever thoughts had her occupied. Remy was thinking as well. He was reviewing the mistakes he'd made during his last job. There was always room for improvement.
The streets pulsed with sound and movement. It was the height of tourist season. The thieves of the area were active. Remy's eyes, hidden behind designer shades, noted each of them as they moved through the crowds, fleecing the large pockets of the tourists. Remy missed the fun of pickpocketing, but he was better suited to high-level break-ins. He did not miss going hungry because he hadn't been able to score enough. He would never be that hungry or cold again.
Belle tugged on his hand and led him in to one of the clubs. She waved to the bartender and ordered them two beers. The bartender looked down his nose at her and set out two non-alcoholic beers. She rolled her eyes and handed him a ten. They settled at a back corner table and listened to the music. Remy slipped an arm over her shoulder and she leaned in to his embrace.
"She's good," Belle commented about the singer.
"Yeah, she is. But I'd rather be watching you."
"Sweet, but a lie."
"Non, chere. You are perfection when you're in motion. You hold my interest when you stay still for a moment. You just can't sing."
"I knew it was too good to last." She found the ticklish spot in his ribs and he squirmed away for a moment. They settled in closer. Remy smelled the light rose scent that she'd used in place of a perfume for years. "So, how was work?"
"More complicated than I thought it would be, but okay. Did my schedule from the University arrive?"
"Right along with mine. I went ahead and picked up our books."
"Merci."
"Bein. Think she's got a boyfriend?"
"Probably not. She's out all night. I think she's got a husband."
"How so?"
"The piano player. Look at the way he watches her. They're married."
"Really? You think so?"
"Oui. That's the look on my face when I look at you." Belle shook her head.
"You don't have to flirt with me. You've already got me."
"Now, I just have to keep you. Is that a new color?"
"Oui. It's called Mardi Gras." Remy laughed appreciatively. "I could get the same effect with three glitter paints, but that wouldn’t be as quick."
"I like it."
"Will you let me do your nails?"
"Depends on what you're planning to use."
"Black and red." She tweaked his nose. "Silly boy."
"We'll see. I might not wear it out of the house."
"Fine. See if I care. The papers came today. We go to closing in two weeks on Chicago."
"That means we have to do the final walk through?"
"Oui."
"Okay. I'll make reservations."
*****
"Scott Summers, don't you dare say it."
"Say what?"
"'I told you so.' Just because you were right about which way the riot was going to turn doesn't mean you can rub it in."
"I didn't say a word."
"You don't have to. I know what you're thinking."
"Really?" Scott smiled at her. "So what am I thinking?" Jean blushed and laughed.
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Making me feel better."
"I thought that was my job."
"Would you two cut it out?" Bobby requested. "The rest of us are trying to eat you know."
"So?"
"The saccharine in here is giving everything an aftertaste."
"You eat your food frozen. How can it have taste?" Angel asked.
"Shut up, Wings."
"Make me."
"I will."
"Boys!" Jean snapped. //I didn't realize I was becoming a mother.//
//But a very beautiful mother. And no stretch marks even.//
//Scott… never mind. Continue.//
//With the most beautiful hair, that falls like waves of flame flickering against the sky.//
//Where have you been hiding that poetic soul of yours?//
//I've always had a taste for the finer things in life. And you are definitely one of them.//
//Flatterer.//
//Truth isn't always flattery.//
//The truth is I've got scorch marks in my hair from one of Storm's lightening bolts and there's a layer of grime all over my skin that I haven't gotten off yet because we were too hungry to hit the showers. My sweats are torn at the cuffs…//
//You are beautiful, Jean. You could be wearing nothing but rags and I'd still love you.//
//Sap.//
//That's me. Fool for love.//
"Excuse me, have you two been listening to a word we've been saying here?" Warren asked, waving a hand in front of Jean's face. She'd dissolved into a sappy grin that matched her husband's a few minutes ago. That meant they couldn't be called on to arbitrate the current argument over the shower rotation.
Logan shook his head. It was good to finally see the two of them happy. Even if it did mean he'd never get a chance at Jeannie. Scott was good for her in a way that he could never match. Scott had a stable personality that the rather erratic temper of the red-head needed for grounding. Besides, he'd always love her. Love never meant just sex to him. To see her happy, that was the best in his book. And if he couldn't bring that smile to her face, better she be with someone who could.
Warren sighed. It looked like Jean and Scott were phasing out again. And he thought only Kitty had that talent. He shook his head at himself. He was making bad puns in his head. That wasn't a good sign. The professor was off with Kitty at the latest local meeting about the use of the registration information. Hopefully, they'd be able to stonewall the use of the information for job restrictions. If only people were able to see beyond the end of their nose and realize how useful some mutations could be. But the loudest voices were the FOH members that wanted mutants put down. The moderates had already left the field after getting the registration passed. They didn't seem to give a damn about what was going to happen.
The doorbell rang. The team looked at Scott. Jean sighed and got up. "I was done anyway. I'll get it. Bobby, you have dish duty." Jean opened the door. She was unprepared to see a familiar face with a stack of bags on the doorstep.
"Good evening. I hate to bother you, but Dr. Xavier said I could stay the night. There seems to be some trouble with my passport." The crisp British accent was at odds with the soft brush against Jean's shields that imparted desperation.
"Of course, I'm Jean."
"Betsy. Betsy Braddock."
"Brian's sister?"
"Yes."
"Let me show you upstairs." Jean lifted the bags with a thought and showed their new guest to a room in the women's wing. "Have you had dinner?"
"No, I haven't eaten yet."
"We're still at dinner. Come downstairs and eat something. We can take care of the details later."
"Thank you."
*****
"So where are you meeting this elusive contact? And do we have a copy of the information."
"Copy of the information is stored in our place. And I'm meeting her on campus."
"Why?"
"Because we're the right age to be there and since I'm already a student, I'll just be showing her around."
"Clever. What's her name?"
"She goes by Rogue."
"And knows you as what? The King of Hearts?"
"Gambit. She's Mystique's daughter."
"I didn't know Mystique had spawned."
"Foster daughter."
"Yeah, and Jean-Luc didn't adopt you either."
"Well, if you put it that way."
"You just remember you belong here, with me. Got it?" Belle carefully brushed on a clear topcoat over the black nail polish. She'd decided against adding the red. For the night at least. They were curled up on the couch. Some black and white movie was running on the television, but they were ignoring it. Belle's hair was up in a loose ponytail and her cheeks were slightly colored from where she'd scrubbed off her foundation. Remy thought she looked perfect. This was the woman he knew as his partner in crime, not the polished and cold Assassin Princess Nightshade. He looked down at the wet nailpolish. His eyes narrowed.
He concentrated on the polish and it glowed slightly, then dried as the warmth forced the liquid to evaporate, leaving the enamel behind. Belle laughed. She loved "tricks." He did the same with the other hand when she finished. "That could come in handy."
"I am not your personal make-up case."
"Yes, you are. Exfoliant. Polish dryer. Hair dryer. I barely have to pack with you around." He shook his head and capped the top coat and set it aside. She leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss. "At least I know you'll be coming home alone tomorrow. Don't fall for anything Raven's little bitch tells you."
"Sweetie, I'm not an idiot."
"When it comes to something attractive talking to you, you can be. It's okay. It's a matter of being male, I think." She patted his knee. "I don't hold it against you."
"So, you're saying that I'm a slut?"
"No, you aren't stupid. I'd castrate you." The matter of fact tone of voice was slightly disconcerting, but the threat was far from idle. "No, you are a flirt. It's one of you more appealing characteristics."
"And what are my other appealing characteristics?"
"You speak six languages. You're worth several million. You know how to make me laugh. You withstand punches fairly well. You aren't afraid to hit a woman. And you have some of the most gorgeous eyes on the planet."
"I hate my eyes."
"I love them. And it's my opinion that counts."
“Things are going to get worse before they get better.”
“Then we’re going to just change the rules. I’ve gotten a contact in North Dakota. We’ll have land on the reservations in no time flat. Just wait and see. They won’t object to a nice new hospital and school.”
“And the US government won’t have a chance.”
“Yeah, there’s a whole lot of mutants in the tribes. They just don’t call them that. Healers, seers, etc. Mattie will be more than happy that we’re planning to work with a group that actually has some form of spirituality.”
“Yeah. She’s been on my case. I keep telling her that I don’t have ancestors that I know.”
“Silly boy. She’ll never take that excuse. Especially not with your talents. It’s okay. We’ll go to the ceremonies together so she can’t call either of us on not following the rules.”
“Speaking of which, I’ve got a candle to light.”
*****
Betsy Braddock was angry. Warren knew that. He just didn’t care. He wanted her to stay. He had the feeling that they could be very good together. First things first though, “Betsy, would you like some tea?”
The frown melted for a moment. “Yes, please. It’s been a terrible day.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“Thank you, Warren. Bloody buggers at customs wouldn’t even let me get something from the café before they stopped me from boarding.” Warren handed her the steeped tea. And set the creamer down on the coffee table. He settled on the couch next to her. “It was awful. They let the rest of the crew go, but someone seems to have told them that I’m a mutant. They won’t let me leave the country. Seems they want to press charges or some such stupidity. I’m not even American! And they say that I’m supposed to have been a part of the frigging registration.”
“They’re trying to make money I think. If they find mutants who haven’t been registered, they get to levy a fine against them.”
“There aren’t any registrations at home.”
“We have friends in Scotland who have chosen not to come to visit because of that.”
“Smart friends. So, how did you end up with this lot?”
“Xavier taught me as a teen. Then, I came back after fighting crime on my own. I decided I wanted to be a part of a team. And now, I have Xavier’s cover to protect my assets. If I put his name on my accounts I don’t have to worry about the government deciding to seize my assets. I’m an unfortunately publicly known funder of mutant causes. I don’t want them to have any reason to take what’s mine.”
“And Xavier isn’t a known mutant?”
“No. I think they suspect, but no one can get a real read on him. There’s shrapnel in his back that messes up the scans. He comes back as being normal. And he can buy himself off of anyone’s list.”
“You know, I think that is rather wrong. What is up with the happy couple?”
“They were married a few weeks back. They still coo as if they’re on their honeymoon.”
“I’d noticed. They coo in mind-speak too.”
“I’m sure. At least then the rest of us don’t suffer all the time.”
“I’ll have to work on my shielding then.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to get caught up in that. You could go in to diabetic shock or something.”
Betsy laughed. “Thank you. I’ve needed a good laugh for a while.” Angel kissed the back of her hand.
“Anything for you, m’lady,” he said affecting an accent. Betsy giggled.
“That was truly pathetic.”
“Thank you. I do my best.”
*****
From: Icy@ xavier.edu
To: Furry@ muir.edu
Re: Dying of sugar shock
Blue,
You have to save me. Scott and Jean are driving me insane. They sit and coo at one another all night. It’s awful. Of course, they did have a bit of a “tiff” over the dishes a couple of nights ago, but it’s not fair when one of the parties can catch the dishes before they hit the wall. And I’m not talking about Jean. Her pitching arm’s improved I think. You’ll have to challenge her to a game of baseball when you come back. I really miss you. There’s no one here who appreciates my humor. The kids are doing okay. The algebra class seems to be missing something vital and I can’t figure out how to teach it so they catch on. I’m hoping that one of them will turn out to be a math genius. I really don’t want to ask Scott for help on this one. Maybe my answers on the test are wrong. I’ll have to check that. Well, as you can tell, I’m in a babbling mood. Warren’s flirting with another model. This one can’t leave the country because she didn’t register as a mutant. I think that’s really strange. I have to wonder if there isn’t something a little more calculated behind it. Or even if the professor might not have had a hand in things. Anyway, Betsy Braddock is now a resident here. If she stays more than a week, we’re going to gang press her into teaching English and public speaking. You know, the courses Scott tries to make Jean teach and ends up doing himself? We could really do with your help. Let me know when you’re coming home. – me
*****
From: Furry@ muir.edu
To: Icy@ xavier.edu
Re: insulin injections
My dear friend,
I’m sorry to hear that you are currently suffering from the shock of an overwhelming amount of floating sweetness in the air. My suggestion is that you eat a Twinkie or two and allow your body to jump start insulin production to protect against the dangers of such a high caloric intake. My condolences to Ms. Braddock, as I am sure that Warren has been making the usual pest of himself and has indubitably ingratiated himself to her with all the finesse of a used car salesman as is his wont.
I am glad to hear that Scott and Jean are happy. I know the publicity of the wedding hung heavily upon their hearts for a time. As for the difficulties in the Algebra class, perhaps you should give the children the opportunity to teach one another and go over one another’s work. That may bring to light what concept needs further clarification. They could go over a problem on the board to let you see exactly where the problem is. Or, they could merely not be studying because they do not feel the need, in light of the current registrations. Has some one spoken to the children about their concerns on that matter or has everyone been caught up in the maelstrom of political and legal machinations that have been necessary to insure the continuing existence of our small haven?
I have embarked upon a wonderful joint project with Moira to do a tour of lectures on the current climate in America and to call for caution on the part of the European nations. Hopefully, we will be able to forestall any such actions over here. My heart is heavy, my friend. I don’t believe that our great nation will survive much longer. I feel there will be no peace. Watch your back, Bobby.
Yours – Hank
*****
“Hey, freak! Does y’ wife know y’ got a new girl?” Remy ignored the taunts as he led Rogue around the campus.
“Sugah, does this happen often?”
“What, chere?”
“The taunts.”
“Been happenin’ all m’ life, chere. Dey don’ bot’er dis one much. So, y’ mama arrangin’ de payments, non?”
“Yes. She’ll beep me when tha transfer goes through, so ya can call an’ double check.”
“Merci, chere. So, would y’ be innerested in a cup o’ café?”
“Oui, Sugah.” Remy held out a chair for the young woman. She ran a hand through her hair, bringing attention to the white stripe in her hair. The waitress hurried over. She knew Remy. She was a Thief. “Coffee, and a slice of that absolutely heavenly looking chocolate cake.”
“Latte, an’ de lemon cake, sil vous plait.”
“Of course.” The order was delivered shortly and Rouge and Gambit chatted pleasantly. As they were finishing up their snack, Rouge’s beeper went off. Gambit pulled out his cell phone and placed a quick coded phone call. When he received confirmation, he nodded to the older teen. He walked her back to the parking lot and went home. He didn’t like spending any more time on campus than he had to.
"Father, you could have warned me."
"I knew you were up to the challenge. You have the information, non?" Jean-Luc LeBeau asked.
"Oui, Papa." Remy gave up. It was impossible to get Jean-Luc to admit to doing anything wrong unless there was a major complication. There had been no complications.
"Good. Here's your contact."
"Merci. I'll set up the meet. Why didn't you tell me?"
"You should have figured it out yourself."
"I did. That's why I… Nevermind." Remy glanced at the paper and noted the name and contact information. He sent it up in smoke.
"Remy," his father sighed.
"What? I remember it." He tapped his head.
"The rest of us rely on other methods." Remy shrugged.
"Goodnight, Papa."
"Say hello to Belladonna for me."
"Of course." Remy slid through the streets of New Orleans with the instinctual ease of the thief he was. He was only vaguely surprised when he found his wife had settled into step next to him. He took her hand as they walked. She smiled at him, a bright flash of teeth before returning to whatever thoughts had her occupied. Remy was thinking as well. He was reviewing the mistakes he'd made during his last job. There was always room for improvement.
The streets pulsed with sound and movement. It was the height of tourist season. The thieves of the area were active. Remy's eyes, hidden behind designer shades, noted each of them as they moved through the crowds, fleecing the large pockets of the tourists. Remy missed the fun of pickpocketing, but he was better suited to high-level break-ins. He did not miss going hungry because he hadn't been able to score enough. He would never be that hungry or cold again.
Belle tugged on his hand and led him in to one of the clubs. She waved to the bartender and ordered them two beers. The bartender looked down his nose at her and set out two non-alcoholic beers. She rolled her eyes and handed him a ten. They settled at a back corner table and listened to the music. Remy slipped an arm over her shoulder and she leaned in to his embrace.
"She's good," Belle commented about the singer.
"Yeah, she is. But I'd rather be watching you."
"Sweet, but a lie."
"Non, chere. You are perfection when you're in motion. You hold my interest when you stay still for a moment. You just can't sing."
"I knew it was too good to last." She found the ticklish spot in his ribs and he squirmed away for a moment. They settled in closer. Remy smelled the light rose scent that she'd used in place of a perfume for years. "So, how was work?"
"More complicated than I thought it would be, but okay. Did my schedule from the University arrive?"
"Right along with mine. I went ahead and picked up our books."
"Merci."
"Bein. Think she's got a boyfriend?"
"Probably not. She's out all night. I think she's got a husband."
"How so?"
"The piano player. Look at the way he watches her. They're married."
"Really? You think so?"
"Oui. That's the look on my face when I look at you." Belle shook her head.
"You don't have to flirt with me. You've already got me."
"Now, I just have to keep you. Is that a new color?"
"Oui. It's called Mardi Gras." Remy laughed appreciatively. "I could get the same effect with three glitter paints, but that wouldn’t be as quick."
"I like it."
"Will you let me do your nails?"
"Depends on what you're planning to use."
"Black and red." She tweaked his nose. "Silly boy."
"We'll see. I might not wear it out of the house."
"Fine. See if I care. The papers came today. We go to closing in two weeks on Chicago."
"That means we have to do the final walk through?"
"Oui."
"Okay. I'll make reservations."
*****
"Scott Summers, don't you dare say it."
"Say what?"
"'I told you so.' Just because you were right about which way the riot was going to turn doesn't mean you can rub it in."
"I didn't say a word."
"You don't have to. I know what you're thinking."
"Really?" Scott smiled at her. "So what am I thinking?" Jean blushed and laughed.
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Making me feel better."
"I thought that was my job."
"Would you two cut it out?" Bobby requested. "The rest of us are trying to eat you know."
"So?"
"The saccharine in here is giving everything an aftertaste."
"You eat your food frozen. How can it have taste?" Angel asked.
"Shut up, Wings."
"Make me."
"I will."
"Boys!" Jean snapped. //I didn't realize I was becoming a mother.//
//But a very beautiful mother. And no stretch marks even.//
//Scott… never mind. Continue.//
//With the most beautiful hair, that falls like waves of flame flickering against the sky.//
//Where have you been hiding that poetic soul of yours?//
//I've always had a taste for the finer things in life. And you are definitely one of them.//
//Flatterer.//
//Truth isn't always flattery.//
//The truth is I've got scorch marks in my hair from one of Storm's lightening bolts and there's a layer of grime all over my skin that I haven't gotten off yet because we were too hungry to hit the showers. My sweats are torn at the cuffs…//
//You are beautiful, Jean. You could be wearing nothing but rags and I'd still love you.//
//Sap.//
//That's me. Fool for love.//
"Excuse me, have you two been listening to a word we've been saying here?" Warren asked, waving a hand in front of Jean's face. She'd dissolved into a sappy grin that matched her husband's a few minutes ago. That meant they couldn't be called on to arbitrate the current argument over the shower rotation.
Logan shook his head. It was good to finally see the two of them happy. Even if it did mean he'd never get a chance at Jeannie. Scott was good for her in a way that he could never match. Scott had a stable personality that the rather erratic temper of the red-head needed for grounding. Besides, he'd always love her. Love never meant just sex to him. To see her happy, that was the best in his book. And if he couldn't bring that smile to her face, better she be with someone who could.
Warren sighed. It looked like Jean and Scott were phasing out again. And he thought only Kitty had that talent. He shook his head at himself. He was making bad puns in his head. That wasn't a good sign. The professor was off with Kitty at the latest local meeting about the use of the registration information. Hopefully, they'd be able to stonewall the use of the information for job restrictions. If only people were able to see beyond the end of their nose and realize how useful some mutations could be. But the loudest voices were the FOH members that wanted mutants put down. The moderates had already left the field after getting the registration passed. They didn't seem to give a damn about what was going to happen.
The doorbell rang. The team looked at Scott. Jean sighed and got up. "I was done anyway. I'll get it. Bobby, you have dish duty." Jean opened the door. She was unprepared to see a familiar face with a stack of bags on the doorstep.
"Good evening. I hate to bother you, but Dr. Xavier said I could stay the night. There seems to be some trouble with my passport." The crisp British accent was at odds with the soft brush against Jean's shields that imparted desperation.
"Of course, I'm Jean."
"Betsy. Betsy Braddock."
"Brian's sister?"
"Yes."
"Let me show you upstairs." Jean lifted the bags with a thought and showed their new guest to a room in the women's wing. "Have you had dinner?"
"No, I haven't eaten yet."
"We're still at dinner. Come downstairs and eat something. We can take care of the details later."
"Thank you."
*****
"So where are you meeting this elusive contact? And do we have a copy of the information."
"Copy of the information is stored in our place. And I'm meeting her on campus."
"Why?"
"Because we're the right age to be there and since I'm already a student, I'll just be showing her around."
"Clever. What's her name?"
"She goes by Rogue."
"And knows you as what? The King of Hearts?"
"Gambit. She's Mystique's daughter."
"I didn't know Mystique had spawned."
"Foster daughter."
"Yeah, and Jean-Luc didn't adopt you either."
"Well, if you put it that way."
"You just remember you belong here, with me. Got it?" Belle carefully brushed on a clear topcoat over the black nail polish. She'd decided against adding the red. For the night at least. They were curled up on the couch. Some black and white movie was running on the television, but they were ignoring it. Belle's hair was up in a loose ponytail and her cheeks were slightly colored from where she'd scrubbed off her foundation. Remy thought she looked perfect. This was the woman he knew as his partner in crime, not the polished and cold Assassin Princess Nightshade. He looked down at the wet nailpolish. His eyes narrowed.
He concentrated on the polish and it glowed slightly, then dried as the warmth forced the liquid to evaporate, leaving the enamel behind. Belle laughed. She loved "tricks." He did the same with the other hand when she finished. "That could come in handy."
"I am not your personal make-up case."
"Yes, you are. Exfoliant. Polish dryer. Hair dryer. I barely have to pack with you around." He shook his head and capped the top coat and set it aside. She leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss. "At least I know you'll be coming home alone tomorrow. Don't fall for anything Raven's little bitch tells you."
"Sweetie, I'm not an idiot."
"When it comes to something attractive talking to you, you can be. It's okay. It's a matter of being male, I think." She patted his knee. "I don't hold it against you."
"So, you're saying that I'm a slut?"
"No, you aren't stupid. I'd castrate you." The matter of fact tone of voice was slightly disconcerting, but the threat was far from idle. "No, you are a flirt. It's one of you more appealing characteristics."
"And what are my other appealing characteristics?"
"You speak six languages. You're worth several million. You know how to make me laugh. You withstand punches fairly well. You aren't afraid to hit a woman. And you have some of the most gorgeous eyes on the planet."
"I hate my eyes."
"I love them. And it's my opinion that counts."
“Things are going to get worse before they get better.”
“Then we’re going to just change the rules. I’ve gotten a contact in North Dakota. We’ll have land on the reservations in no time flat. Just wait and see. They won’t object to a nice new hospital and school.”
“And the US government won’t have a chance.”
“Yeah, there’s a whole lot of mutants in the tribes. They just don’t call them that. Healers, seers, etc. Mattie will be more than happy that we’re planning to work with a group that actually has some form of spirituality.”
“Yeah. She’s been on my case. I keep telling her that I don’t have ancestors that I know.”
“Silly boy. She’ll never take that excuse. Especially not with your talents. It’s okay. We’ll go to the ceremonies together so she can’t call either of us on not following the rules.”
“Speaking of which, I’ve got a candle to light.”
*****
Betsy Braddock was angry. Warren knew that. He just didn’t care. He wanted her to stay. He had the feeling that they could be very good together. First things first though, “Betsy, would you like some tea?”
The frown melted for a moment. “Yes, please. It’s been a terrible day.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“Thank you, Warren. Bloody buggers at customs wouldn’t even let me get something from the café before they stopped me from boarding.” Warren handed her the steeped tea. And set the creamer down on the coffee table. He settled on the couch next to her. “It was awful. They let the rest of the crew go, but someone seems to have told them that I’m a mutant. They won’t let me leave the country. Seems they want to press charges or some such stupidity. I’m not even American! And they say that I’m supposed to have been a part of the frigging registration.”
“They’re trying to make money I think. If they find mutants who haven’t been registered, they get to levy a fine against them.”
“There aren’t any registrations at home.”
“We have friends in Scotland who have chosen not to come to visit because of that.”
“Smart friends. So, how did you end up with this lot?”
“Xavier taught me as a teen. Then, I came back after fighting crime on my own. I decided I wanted to be a part of a team. And now, I have Xavier’s cover to protect my assets. If I put his name on my accounts I don’t have to worry about the government deciding to seize my assets. I’m an unfortunately publicly known funder of mutant causes. I don’t want them to have any reason to take what’s mine.”
“And Xavier isn’t a known mutant?”
“No. I think they suspect, but no one can get a real read on him. There’s shrapnel in his back that messes up the scans. He comes back as being normal. And he can buy himself off of anyone’s list.”
“You know, I think that is rather wrong. What is up with the happy couple?”
“They were married a few weeks back. They still coo as if they’re on their honeymoon.”
“I’d noticed. They coo in mind-speak too.”
“I’m sure. At least then the rest of us don’t suffer all the time.”
“I’ll have to work on my shielding then.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to get caught up in that. You could go in to diabetic shock or something.”
Betsy laughed. “Thank you. I’ve needed a good laugh for a while.” Angel kissed the back of her hand.
“Anything for you, m’lady,” he said affecting an accent. Betsy giggled.
“That was truly pathetic.”
“Thank you. I do my best.”
*****
From: Icy@ xavier.edu
To: Furry@ muir.edu
Re: Dying of sugar shock
Blue,
You have to save me. Scott and Jean are driving me insane. They sit and coo at one another all night. It’s awful. Of course, they did have a bit of a “tiff” over the dishes a couple of nights ago, but it’s not fair when one of the parties can catch the dishes before they hit the wall. And I’m not talking about Jean. Her pitching arm’s improved I think. You’ll have to challenge her to a game of baseball when you come back. I really miss you. There’s no one here who appreciates my humor. The kids are doing okay. The algebra class seems to be missing something vital and I can’t figure out how to teach it so they catch on. I’m hoping that one of them will turn out to be a math genius. I really don’t want to ask Scott for help on this one. Maybe my answers on the test are wrong. I’ll have to check that. Well, as you can tell, I’m in a babbling mood. Warren’s flirting with another model. This one can’t leave the country because she didn’t register as a mutant. I think that’s really strange. I have to wonder if there isn’t something a little more calculated behind it. Or even if the professor might not have had a hand in things. Anyway, Betsy Braddock is now a resident here. If she stays more than a week, we’re going to gang press her into teaching English and public speaking. You know, the courses Scott tries to make Jean teach and ends up doing himself? We could really do with your help. Let me know when you’re coming home. – me
*****
From: Furry@ muir.edu
To: Icy@ xavier.edu
Re: insulin injections
My dear friend,
I’m sorry to hear that you are currently suffering from the shock of an overwhelming amount of floating sweetness in the air. My suggestion is that you eat a Twinkie or two and allow your body to jump start insulin production to protect against the dangers of such a high caloric intake. My condolences to Ms. Braddock, as I am sure that Warren has been making the usual pest of himself and has indubitably ingratiated himself to her with all the finesse of a used car salesman as is his wont.
I am glad to hear that Scott and Jean are happy. I know the publicity of the wedding hung heavily upon their hearts for a time. As for the difficulties in the Algebra class, perhaps you should give the children the opportunity to teach one another and go over one another’s work. That may bring to light what concept needs further clarification. They could go over a problem on the board to let you see exactly where the problem is. Or, they could merely not be studying because they do not feel the need, in light of the current registrations. Has some one spoken to the children about their concerns on that matter or has everyone been caught up in the maelstrom of political and legal machinations that have been necessary to insure the continuing existence of our small haven?
I have embarked upon a wonderful joint project with Moira to do a tour of lectures on the current climate in America and to call for caution on the part of the European nations. Hopefully, we will be able to forestall any such actions over here. My heart is heavy, my friend. I don’t believe that our great nation will survive much longer. I feel there will be no peace. Watch your back, Bobby.
Yours – Hank
*****
“Hey, freak! Does y’ wife know y’ got a new girl?” Remy ignored the taunts as he led Rogue around the campus.
“Sugah, does this happen often?”
“What, chere?”
“The taunts.”
“Been happenin’ all m’ life, chere. Dey don’ bot’er dis one much. So, y’ mama arrangin’ de payments, non?”
“Yes. She’ll beep me when tha transfer goes through, so ya can call an’ double check.”
“Merci, chere. So, would y’ be innerested in a cup o’ café?”
“Oui, Sugah.” Remy held out a chair for the young woman. She ran a hand through her hair, bringing attention to the white stripe in her hair. The waitress hurried over. She knew Remy. She was a Thief. “Coffee, and a slice of that absolutely heavenly looking chocolate cake.”
“Latte, an’ de lemon cake, sil vous plait.”
“Of course.” The order was delivered shortly and Rouge and Gambit chatted pleasantly. As they were finishing up their snack, Rouge’s beeper went off. Gambit pulled out his cell phone and placed a quick coded phone call. When he received confirmation, he nodded to the older teen. He walked her back to the parking lot and went home. He didn’t like spending any more time on campus than he had to.