X-Men: A Bright New World

[Lachiyous]

Gambit

Three Months Ago.

"You have to understand, and I'm sure you won't. The sheer amount of pressure I'm under. What that does to someone. I have nightmares within nightmares. Of this life. And not getting out. Getting away from it all. From my family." The man's blue eyes were scattered, moving in a frenzy. His blond matte was dishelved. It was all coming out now. "I didn't CHOOSE this. How could I? I never wanted any of this bullshit! This is all their doing -- it's all their fault! Sometimes I wish I were strong enough, just so I could END..."

Right hand up. The universal plea to stop. A nod to the waitress, whom had been eyeing him all night. "Yes, Mad'moiselle. Better bring de whole BOTTLE. It be one of dem nights!" Taking her leave only after receiving his smile(and then maybe lingering a bit longer after that), he turned his attention back to the man.

"Listen I asked you here for a reason. Obviously. You come with a very specific skill set as I hear." Dressed in a suit and tie. In an elegant joint like this. The man had money. Lots of it. "So. I'm in. However long it takes. Just make sure it's a winner." A closed envelope was discreetly exchanged between the two.

"A step, mon ami. In de right direction. Jus' gonna 'ave to trust. Dats all."

The wine couldn't be scurried back to them quick enough, at least in her mind. Non-hesitantly, she clumsily dropped a few napkins...to attempt a focal point on her, at least for another moment or two. Then was content on gawking from a distance.

Heh. She'd get hers once this was wrapped up. For sure. As would her friend next to her...

"Why did you order that? I don't even drink." Perspiration beaded upon the first man's temple.

"Dat's fine. Wasn't for you." He sent a wink to the waitress. "You jus' worry 'bout de pleasure. Gambit take care of de rest, M'sieu..?" Rising, he took the bottle of wine with him, leaving his 'friend' behind. Rich friend. Who could definitely afford to pick up the tab on this one.

"Warren is fine. And I'm not too sure about pleasures, but..." Yet his associate had all ready made his way over to the lady staff of the restaurant. In his stead, two figures walked carefully over to him. Neither with an article of clothing covering their upper body. One, hair pulled back and knotted up. The other without. Any hair. Both, very much. Male.
========================================================================
Saturday Morning.

"I'm Lorna Dane, and I'm not too sure about pleasures." Definitely wasn't asleep. That was her voice. And he felt her palm within his -- the slight tremble she released in the moment contact was shared -- as he helped her up. Her aroma. Shampoo perhaps. She smelled of lavender. Then he saw her. Change. One second to the next. The touch was broken. As she released him. Her eyes dilated some. Her hands reached out. Not close to relaxed.

And he. Was far from. Kansas.

"You here to join the school? Or should I start thinking of calling security?" The School. That's right. He was at the School! And at that, he couldn't help but laugh a little. At the hour. The sun wasn't even the highest set, up in the sky. Which meant it was way too early. At his 'plan' here. What was he doing again? He never was one for 'academic institionalizing', so why had he come? At the girl before him. She seemed a little uneasy and on edge. Didn't she know it was JUST him? She looked awfully appealing the way she was watching him...so intently. With the promise of intensity in those green eyes of hers. Maybe it was his imagination, but was she 'sizing' him up? Hah!

"Heh. 'Pologies, Mad'moiselle Dane. 'Sbeen a long night." He allows his gaze to swirl around for the first time since spotting her, digesting his surroundings. "A friend talked 'bout dis place. Mentioned a professer. And gifted. But.." His red irises met her green once more. "..'parently de BEAUTY part was left out, no?" Again with the smile. For her. Sometimes. When one -- any of one -- was at unease, anxious, or all otherwise not themself. If anything. A smile. Was all it took. To help. Smooth things. Over. Least of all, one from him. He knew this. He banked on this. Time and time again. Let's bait that hook. Cast it a little farther out. Never know what can be caught. "Care to give de new guy de tour, chere?"

Still smiling.
========================================================================

 

[Felix80]

Enter Magneto!

"Hey Fucker!"

Juan turned around. His friend Lee was walking toward him carrying an AR-15 and waving. Both of them were dressed in tan digital camo under their web vests. They were soldiers in the US Army stationed at Cape Citadel, the United States' nuclear ICBM headquarters.

"Hey Fucker!" Juan cheerfully called back, throwing his friend a wave. He turned around and started packing up his knapsack. He'd had his phone plugged in.

Juan was standing in a small booth made of ballistic steel and bullet resistant glass. The booth faced the only road that gave access to the heavily fortified base. A mechanical gate blocked the roadway. On either side of the road was a nuisance fence, microwave detection emitters, more chicken-wire nuisance fence, multiple lengths of jersey barriers pinned together and cameras. Everywhere there were cameras. No one could sneak up on this base. The guard towers that were inside the perimeter made sure any potential threat was met with lethal force.

Lee walked into the booth and they shook hands with a "Huah!" Lee nodded to Juan's smart phone that was on the desk. "You texting that mamacita you met last night?"

Juan laughed. "Hell yes! You won't believe the shit this chica is sending me. She wants to suck my dick, and have me cum on her titties!"

"Fuck you," Lee said. Obviously he didn't believe Juan.

"Go fuck yourself, you chink bastard," Juan said, his voice casual, no malice in his words. He picked up the phone and powered it on then handed it to his friend. "Read that shit!"

"Ahh, go sell your sister on the street corner, you cock-sucking spic son-of-a - Damn!" Lee's eyes went wide as he was reading the texts. "This bitch is freaky!"

Juan laughed. "Scroll down, she sent me a picture."

"Titties! Nice!"

"Hell yeah!" Juan crossed his arms across his chest, posing. "She got a taste of my Puerto Rican cock and now she's addicted to my dick!"

"Disgusting."

Both soldiers turned at the sound of the new voice, a shocked look on their faces. If that was a sergeant, or worse, an officer, they were on a one-way trip to Shit City. Liberty revoked, they'd be stuck on base cleaning something that was already shiny. Nothing was ever clean enough in the army, and at Cape Citadel, there was nothing to do but clean and guard the missiles.

But it wasn't a sergeant or an officer standing there. It was some nut in a Halloween costume. Purple cape, a red and purple helmet, a red spandex looking body suit.

Both soldiers had their rifles up in less than a second. They were pointed at the weirdo as they launched themselves out of the booth and took up positions on the base side of the gate, forming a triangle with the costumed person, all the while shouting:

"Down on your knees!"

"Get on the fucking ground!"

"Now Asshole!

"Down! Get fucking down! Get the fuck down!"

The costumed man waited a moment, yawned and then spoke over them.

"I am Magneto. I am giving you one chance. Surrender the base to me, or I will take it by force."

"Go fuck yourself!" Juan responded. There was no playfulness in his voice now, like there was a moment ago.

"No," Magneto replied.

He raised his hand and the rifles jumped out of the soldiers' hands. An AR-15 has a great deal of plastic in it. But the barrel, the bolt and the chamber are all steel. Steel is ferrous.

The guns ripped apart with a gesture and the metal bits wrapped themselves around the two soldiers, lifted them in the air and tossed them 100 feet in either direction. Neither of them were getting back up.

Magneto raised his arms in the air and visible wall of electro-magnetic radiation burst forth from him and flowed over the base. A blue-white energy field surrounded him and without a sound Magneto lifted off the ground, nuisance wire bending out of his way as he advanced. Magneto shook his head.

"Fools."

It was only a matter of time before the base was his.

 

[spazmodious]

Nightcrawler

" Was denke ich?" Kurt cursed himself a fool,if the VW was pulling into the grounds then itwould surely be heading for the front door or the garage obviously.

He teleported to the front door and took a position on topof the archway,whoever was comming had to pass right below him and unless they could turn invisible would not get past unseen.
From here he could see whoit is before they could see him.

This was an old habit of his,being used as he was to having to stay out of the public eye his whole life,but it was also very useful in telling if the person is in the right kind of mood for a joke or not.

Kurt got comfortable in the shadows using his ability to blend in.
"And now I wait."

 

[Felix80]

OOC: *sigh* Who ordered the Spam?

 

[Wyldfire]

Lorna

"Heh. 'Pologies, Mad'moiselle Dane. 'Sbeen a long night." He allows his gaze to swirl around for the first time since spotting her, digesting his surroundings. "A friend talked 'bout dis place. Mentioned a professer. And gifted. But.." His red irises met her green once more. "..'parently de BEAUTY part was left out, no?" Again with the smile. For her. Sometimes. When one -- any of one -- was at unease, anxious, or all otherwise not themself. If anything. A smile. Was all it took. To help. Smooth things. Over. Least of all, one from him. He knew this. He banked on this. Time and time again. Let's bait that hook. Cast it a little farther out. Never know what can be caught. "Care to give de new guy de tour, chere?"

Still smiling. Just like a human would; just like the old man said they would when they knew you were different. The smile led to the sugared words, check, and next would come the manipulation. But this man, obvious from his eyes, wasn't human. He must be some sort of mutant and he knew about the school, so Lorna decided not to try the new trick out on him.

"The "tour" is going to be a simple trip to see the professor," she said as she raised a hand. The disk pulled itself from the ground and flew to her, then lowered itself to a level that she could step up onto it. She did this, then elevated the disk a couple feet and started moving towards the mansion. "How slow do I need to go for you to keep up?"

 

[Lachiyous]

Gambit

Three and a Half Months Ago.

"Incase it isn't in any way clear. I don't LIKE my possessions stolen from me." This one had a great, round body mass. Adorned in a stark white suit. An imposing man, he pointed his golden cane directly at the Cajun. "In order to make this right -- and my dear boy, you very much will -- I will use your...rather specific skill set. For my own purposes now."

Held there. Trapped. A captive audience. Between five of the big guy's goons. At gun point. How had he been caught? "No disrespect, homme....but Gambit don't work for no one."

The man's brow furrowed. In annoyance. Ripples of angry red. Splashed all over. His bald head. He spat out, "You are IN DEBT to me. So you will. And you do."

His men shoved the weapons unto his face. To be more intimidating. And threatening. Maybe it worked, as he kept quiet.

"Very good." He regained some of his composure. "Your target, 'Gambit', is a rival business corporation. Been a thorn in my side. For some time. I want them out of the picture. Hit them where it hurts. Where they're weakest. The CEO has a son."

He carefully watched as his prisoner's gaze was not on him. While he spoke. But rather was fixated on the environment around. Definitely couldn't trust this one. Yet what he was able to accomplish. Infuriating, if not. Equally impressive. Had it not been for--! "De name of de comp'ny?"

"Worthington Industries. Go find the son. Remember. You've got a job to do. Don't double cross me. I WILL be watching."
========================================================================
Saturday Morning.

"The 'tour' is going to be a simple trip to see the professor," she stated matter a factly, without much of an emotional conviction. Based on her reserved demeanor and stand off-ish body language, he could speculate that she would not be a recipient. To his. Charms. Most often than naught, he's able to woo. And coo. The target of his affections. Instantaneously. With a smile. And some soft words. Perhaps even a touch. She. Was different. Something. Was up. There were aspects -- elements emotionally to her, perhaps -- at work here, with which he couldn't possibly be ever present of. After all. This was their first meeting. Right?

Suddenly a flattened metal platform wrenches itself from out of the ground. At the same time she lifts her hand. As it hovers in front of her. Which she steps upon. Ahh. Gifted indeed! He brings his hands together and applauds her, for the display of her power, "Impressive Gal!"

As the platform ascends, moving her forward....past him -- the sight of her lovely posterior, filling out the nifty likes of those denim cut off shorts, at his eye level...keep him fantastically attuned. She calls out to him from ahead, "How slow do I need to go for you to keep up?"

Striking a match against tree bark. His cigarette now lit. Inhale. And. Following her. Derrière. On foot. Exhale. "Heh heh. No room for de Cajun up dere too, Chere?" He couldn't help but grin in her direction. It just FELT like it was going to be a splendid day. Yes. Onward to meet this professor...
========================================================================

 

[tcost]

Charles Francis Xavier

This was all so foolish. But the only other two people in the building were just finishing up from sex, and the closest pair outside were very much in the middle of it, over in the stable loft. Charles didn't need to know this, he didn't really even want to know this, but life at his school was filled with sex.

Maybe he was just being stupidly scrupulous. If people knew some of what went on here, they would be far more outraged by things that had nothing to do with sex than things that did.

All the same, graduated or not, Kitty was nine years his junior and barely legal. If the professor was going to fantasize about a woman, it should be a fully adult woman. A professional whom he had wanted to come to live here, but who had refused him.

The touch of a button, and her music started playing. He had secretly recorded it on his cell phone when he had gone to see her at that bar. She had refused to come to the school, but she had been friendly enough in other ways. And she was only three years younger than he was; a much more suitable object for his fantasies. Maybe tonight he would look up where she was singing and go to another of her performances. Time had not diminished her in his memories, but that was at least in part because this was not the first time he'd played her music while doing this.

It is almost impossible for anybody to approach Charles Xavier without his knowing it, whether by intention or otherwise; on the other hand, probably the best time to try that would be while he was jerking off.

So whomever came through the door to his office would hear the music playing. Most of the folks on campus would not know the voice, but Gambit would recognize it as that of the woman he had bedded just the night before, whose car he had stolen. It was the voice of Alison Blaire.

 

[SortOfBeautiful]

Alison Blaire/Dazzler.

“Fuckin’ Cajun asshole, I’m going to kill him. I swear—“

Alison Blaire was mumbling under her breath in the back of the dirty New York cab, her voice trailing off. Her crystal blue eyes gazed up at the taxi driver in front of her. If he had any qualms about her swearing in his back seat, his face did not change in the rear-view mirror. Good. She cursed some more.

Usually, Alison was so laid back. Carefree. Bright. But last night she’d made a mistake. It hadn’t really felt like one, at the time. After working a late shift at the strip club, she’d been cornered by four men in the alley. She could have defended herself. She should have, at least. She had the powers to do so. But panic and fear had paralyzed her. Without Gambit’s help, she didn’t even want to think about what might’ve happened. So, she had let that smooth talkin’, good lookin’ Cajun take her home.

He was sweet, fun, playful, and he certainly knew the female body very well because god, the sex was amazing. Her knees still trembled. She thought the connection was there, but, even after he’d promised to stay, not only had he left her there in that cold bed, when she woke the next morning her car keys were also missing. Asshole! She’d called the police, but her report was quickly dismissed. With what was going on at Ft. Knox, the authorities had more threats and bigger things to worry about. They were assholes, too.

So, Alison went to her own extremes to get her car back. This Saturday morning, she discovered her phone was missing. Then it struck her; she left it in her car! Normally, that thought might terrify any woman who was without their phone, but not Alison. She could fucking track it, and go after that Cajun thief who stole her car. Thank you, technology.

Using a tablet a friend had loaned her, Alison stared at the green dot on her screen as the taxi reached closer to the destination. They were going a bit out of the city, toward Manchester, but she didn’t care. That car was the first thing she bought herself that didn’t come from her father’s money. And it was her only source of transportation to all of her gigs in the city and to work, since public transportation was just as dangerous as those back alleyways.

When the taxi pulled up to the front gate, those blue orbs looked up and out the window, stunned and confused why the hell they were pulling up here.

A mansion.

It was beautiful and elegant, and it was hard to miss all of the little details and character on the outside. Along with the children and adults moving everywhere. What was this?

Then she saw it.

Xavier’s School for the Gifted.

Gifted. It sounded like a prestigious school her father would’ve liked to send her off to when she was younger.

Her heart was racing in her chest, so fast that Alison thought it would burst. Because then she remembered. Someone had described her powers as a gift before, while she sometimes called them an annoyance. Curse.

That man was Charles Xavier.

“Damn it!” She cursed some more, closing the tablet and stuffing it in her bag. If she’d been upset about her car being stolen, she was definitely fuming now. She’d told Gambit in confidence, about the professor’s mansion out here in Westchester. A long time ago, Charles had told her about this place. Invited her. Tempted her. It all sounded too good to be true. She’d never really met anyone else with…’gifts’, like her, but Charles had promised her that there were others like her. Gambit was living proof of that, and it was that reason alone that she had blurted out about Charles and his school. But Gambit had dismissed the discussion as quickly as it was brought up, and now, here she was. Driving up to the front gate.

This is not what she had planned for.

Alison felt unprepared. Nervous. Scared. Pissed off. All of those emotions bottling up inside her made it a little overwhelming, and she could hardly sit still. Seeing her white Beetle safely parked as they were let into the large front gate, she had no desire to go to it. She needed to come face to face with her thief, first.

Paying the driver, which she expected someone to pay her back, Alison Blaire stepped out of the car. She was wearing a short denim skirt and a white tank top. Tucked in the cleavage of her breasts, hidden beneath her shirt, was a small disco ball charm attached to the silver chain she wore around her neck. An inside, sentimental accessory. Her long, golden wavy locks bounced behind her shoulders as she marched up to the front entrance. There were a few students outside, and those blue eyes burned, glaring over at them, unable to mask her emotions.

“Where is Charles Xavier?” She called out, deciding to find him, instead.
She had a new tactic; Tell him everything about this man who had used her, and stolen her car. And that thief was now in his school. Well, of course, it didn’t go exactly like that; she had welcomed that thief into her bed. But some details she could leave out. Especially to Charles, who she hadn’t seen in years. Would he even remember her?

“I need to speak to whoever is in charge here, now.”

Frightened, some of the students led her inside, and she marched her way over to the Professor's office as her hips swayed with purpose down that hallway. Just as she reached the large oak doors to his office, her small hand raised to knock, and then she heard it.

It was a soft, seductive melody. A song about wanting someone, and going after them. It was her song. Her voice. Hear it had paralyzed her, leaving her frozen in front of the office door. And then she heard him.

Only his voice was on the same side of the door as her. Gambit.

That blonde head whipped around to glare a hole into that man's face as he approached. If he was with someone else, she didn't notice.

"You!" She practically growled at him, a hand coming down to rest on that slender hip of hers. A hip he probably knew all too well, by now. "You're a snake, you know that? God! I thought you were a good person, so I let you in my home. My bed!" She mumbled that last part, not wanting the whole damn school to know about their affair. "And you steal my car? Give me my keys, now. Then I'm going to make sure you get kicked out of here. You don't belong here."

Looking at him was just as distracting as hearing the melody of her song through those doors. She paused, then cleared her throat before reaching behind her to finally pound on the office doors. She'd been too scared to just open them. Scared to face someone from her past, and scared to face how and why her music was playing just inside.

 

[spazmodious]

Nightcrawler

Kurt saw Lorna leading some tall guy into the mansion then zoom off and the guy followed,he was considering his next move when a stunning blonde stormed in headed for the Professor's office...this promised to be interesting to say the least.
Staiying mostly on the ceilinghe followed untill he was just around the corner from Xavier's office and watched as the woman paused to listen at the door before confronting the guy,who had apparently stolen her car..." mein Gott" he whispered this was a lot more interesting than he thought.

She knocked loudly on the door and Kurt started thinking aboutthe best spot to port to if things got crazy as he thought "Achtung Professor! drama at your door!"

He wasn't sure what was going on but he was determined to be ready for whatever happened.

 

[Wyldfire]

Begin the Wardance!

[Santa Fe, New Mexico. Three weeks prior to the beginning date of the thread]

Two men sat in the small cafe, some of the regions best dishes in front of them. Santa Fe was notorious for its arts, be they ceramics, sand paintings, or, to the joy of the two men, the cuisine. The very large blond man took a bite of the pesole in front of him and took a second before speaking. "You sure about this Johnny boy? Do you really think this is the way to do this? You really want me teaching her?"

The Amerindian man smiled. He loved it when he could mess with his partner. "Yeah Vic, I am sure you're the one," he did not mention the fact that he felt Vic would be the perfect example of why not going down the same path as he had was a good idea. John knew this was a dangerous game. Vic was not stupid. He might be a great many things, but stupid was not one of them. "You're the only one I'd trust with this. None of the others have the ability to survive her." He smiled at his partner's reaction to that. Dear girl had confided in her big brother when she'd given it up to one of the Res' boys and had almost killed him. Vic would live through it. Hell, she might make an honest man out of him with what she was probably capable of dishing out.

"Okay Johnny, I'm in," The larger man said, "so, how do I break this to her?"

John Proudstar slid a canvas satchel across to Vic. "Give her these, and give her the "We regret to inform you shtick." Then be the caring "best friend" of the dearly departed brother."

Vic took this idea in and had to ask, "You looking for me to bed her Johnbo?"

John managed to succeed in not laughing at his partner, "Think you can survive it Vic?" The big man had the grace to look confused, but nodded.

 

[Shadowlace]

Siryn

"Look luv i don't really want one either, its just...I have had a lot of sex and because of it My Brother sent me here, I mean while i was climaxing i took out an ol church! So he sent me here. My first sexual experience was ruined because of me voice," She said as she walked down the hall after Wanda and than grabbed the girls arm and rested her head on her shoulder.

" So I set me self somewhere to give the person I finally decide to settle with a special place, so i chose the Shower since i tired me bed and well, i slept with that gardener we had a few years ago that the Professor got rid of..."She drifted to the thought of her and the gardener and shivered. "He had such a exquisite dick" she says blushing as she than looks at Wanda and than smiles.

" So yeah looking to score a dick later eh Wanda? I know I am, well after a good breakfast a hearty day of swimming and some studyin'" She says with a laugh as she than pulls away from the raven haired woman and rushed down the stairs to the kitchen, gonna snag her a banana and some oatmeal!

 

[Wyldfire]

Lorna.

She led the newcomer into the school, making sure he'd finished the cancer stick he'd been sucking on, only to round a corner into a ball of bat shit crazy. This was so not her day. She let the woman vent at the cajun and as she did Lorna realized her opinion of miss bat shit was much higher than the first blush. And her distrust of the cajun increased as well. A car thief and a sexual predator to boot.

She finally spoke up once the other woman took the time to take a breath, "Excuse me miss, I totally agree you've got every right to be angry, but," she gestured about the place, "This is a school. Not the place for "Jerry Springer live." If you want to have charges placed on this guy I'll be glad to direct you to a phone."

All of this right outside the professor's office to boot. That was when she heard the music. Ah hell, he was having one of those days. He had to have heard the mayhem out here. Lorna thought real hard in his general direction "Charles? You going to ignore all of this? I mean, look through my eyes and see whats going on right outside your office, please?"

 

[SortOfBeautiful]

Alison's blue eyes were burning like ice. Or was it fire? It didn't matter! She had been angry when she found her car stolen. She'd been angry having to take a couple-hundred dollar taxi ride. And she was angry now having to face someone from her past that she wasn't ready to face. All because of him! Gambit.

Before she could even growl at him some more, and before he could even defend himself or give her an excuse she was sure was coming, someone was standing up to him.

Who the hell was this bitch?

Incredulous, Alison looked back at the other girl. Young, pretty. Gambit's type, she guessed. But she was barking up the wrong tree. This was not her fight.

"I'm very well aware what this place is, thank you." Alison snapped at her, turning her death glare to the new girl who thought she could butt in. "Not that any of this is your business, but I have called the police. So, why don't you stay out of this, or walk away? This doesn't concern you."

Alison wasn't cruel, or mean, and god, she hated fighting and confrontation! Sometimes it made her uncomfortable just thinking about it. But...she was upset. Not at this girl, who hadn't done anything to her. But she was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, defending the wrong person.

Sighing, Alison realized the bitch she was becoming. This wasn't her at all.

"I'm sorry, I lashed out at you. But...you." She turned back to Gambit, who probably thought he was in the clear and that she could be so easily distracted. Charles still hadn't opened the door yet, and she wondered what the hell was taking so long. Or if he was even in there at all.

Shit, could she deal with all this right now?

With her thief there in front of her, his bombshell 'bodyguard', and Charles on the other side of the door, Alison thought she was going to have a panic attack. Her fingers were tingling with warmth. She didn't need to look down to know that little sparks of light were flickering at her fingertips. She clenched her small hands into fists to stop them.

"Keys. Now." She didn't hold out her hand. She didn't trust herself.

 

[spazmodious]

Nightcrawler

Seeing the light sparkling around the womans fingertips and having seen Lorna use her powers in front of whoever this scoundrel of a car thief was assured Kurt that they were all mutants here,so with a sigh of partial relief he ventued out of the shadows but given how crowded the hall was becoming elected not to use the floor but stayed on the wall instead.

He got closer to the action where he could hear better but was still a good 10 feet off the floor and nearly opposite the Professor's door and still unaccustomed as he was to talking openly to people his voice sounded a little odd even to himself.

"I hate to interrupt,but given the...um,special nature of this school and all present,maybe involving ze authorities iz not exactly in everyones best interest, yes?"

 

[Lachiyous]

Gambit

Almost Four Months Ago.

"You should know." The sultry voice spoke. From behind a black mask. Outlining just. Her lovely green eyes. "I work alone. Though you are quite...yummy!" She laughed to the stranger. An ocean of her platinum blonde hair. Spilling. Down over her shoulders. And. The curve of her back. Contrast to her. Black, form fitting bodysuit.

This had been the third time they had met like this. In the middle of work. Was her employer double dealing? A test maybe. How was he able to find her? And...

"Care for a taste? Got t' get it while it hot, chere. Heh." ...what exactly does that Cajun tongue feel like? Mama's going to get in trouble tonight...but not yet.

A job's a job after all. She tucked the artifact within her costume. More specifically, between her cleavage. One more survey of the room. No guards. Coast was clear. Firing the grappling hook. Up. Through the overhanging window. The way she came in. As she reached the top....he was there to help her up? And pull her. Ever so close. For a tight embrace. His lips sought out hers. What the hell. She kissed him back. With her tongue. There on the rooftop. Of the museum.

"Mmm. You weren't kidding, sexy. Why, it's---" Sirens. Really? Whipping her head around. To the street. Flashing lights. Down a couple of blocks. They'd be here soon. "Rain check, stud....we'll--" Huh? He was gone. What the...

She cast out her hook, and fired again. Whisking herself away. From the scene of crime. Not until she was. A mile and a half away. Did she reach for her prize.

Not...not here. Not anywhere.

Shit! That dirty son of a....

Pressing on her cell. So, she wouldn't be getting laid. But he sure as hell would get. Fucked.

Silver,

The Cajun has the item. Your move.

-Cat
========================================================================
Saturday Morning.

Just one moment.

That was all he allowed for himself. The time. To react. And feel. Surprised.

At her presence.

It's been so. In his accustomed...travels. He's almost never had. The experience. Of awkward. Or one that hasn't seemed. Favorable for him. Perhaps. Because of who he is. And his personality. Smooth. Sailing. Always. There isn't much. That rattles him. Or ruffles his feathers. No. Not this one. Not Gambit.

When his leggy 'tour guide' brought him inside. Around the corner. Of the hallway. He had all but finished. With his cigarette. "Definitely don't mind de A.C. on in.....here..."

There she was.

He stopped. For just one moment.

The girl. From last night. And several towns over. The one that he saved. In the ally. From the patrons. With grubby hands. The woman he'd kept company. And loved. Into the wee hours of the morning. The Devil's in the detail. Was there anything else? Oh yes, the---

"--snake, you know that? God! I thought you were a good person, so I let you in my home. My bed! And you steal my car? Give me my keys, now. Then I'm going to make sure you get kicked out of here. You don't belong here." She was the opposite of 'elated' right now. Yet before he could speak...

"Excuse me miss, I totally agree you've got every right to be angry, but this is a school. Not the place for 'Jerry Springer live.' If you want to have charges placed on this guy I'll be glad to direct you to a phone." Lorna, with whom he was confident the two would develop a strong bond -- why the initial connection so far...off the charts! -- was quick to respond.

Moment over. Surprise. Gone. His composure. Liquid. Gel. Over upon himself. Once more. That's when he 'lost' it. And started laughing. Not maliciously. But. Heartily. He was sandwiched. Between. Two. Gorgeous women. And the most entertaining thought -- notion -- they could come up with was. Becoming huffy. Almost as if either. Couldn't seek to see. The possibilities!

When Alison roared back at Lorna. He couldn't help but. Bellow out some more laughs. Until finally. With his dashing smile. Did he find his voice, "Gambit try and protect you, chere. Made sure dat car. Wasn't in your grasp no more. Didn't want risk you getting hurt. If you couldn't get back to dat place, den you be safe! Dat was de intention de entire time."

As he moved to close the distance. Between them. And lean in for a hug. He noticed the sparks of light. From her finger tips. Her powers were bubbling to the surface. She clenched her fists. Gently now. Soon, maybe not so much.

"I hate to interrupt,but given the...um,special nature of this school and all present,maybe involving ze authorities iz not exactly in everyones best interest, yes?"

Blinking. The Cajun cast a quick go around. Hadn't noticed anyone else in the hallway with them. Didn't think to look up. At the wall. Behind him.

He smoothed his tongue. Over the surface of his lips. To moisten them. Then smiled. Back to her once more. The same one he'd given her a handful and a half of. Hours past. When he rescued her. And took her. To bed. As a lover. "If anyt'ing, chere." He paused to glance over at Lorna, then back to Alison. "It's good to see you 'gain. Now 'bout dis Professor? Heh heh." Reaches out his hand. To place. On the small of her waist. Softly. His red irises gleaming. The corner of his lips. Still curled. For her. As he turns toward the door before them...
========================================================================

 

[tcost]

Charles.

*Thank you, Lorna. I'll be there in seconds.*

A few seconds more than he would have taken had he not seen Alison there. He took that much extra time to shut off the music. He didn't think that anyone other than Lorna realized what it meant, but one never knew...

He zipped up his pants, still erect, and straightened his shirt, the safari-style epaulets softening rather than emphasizing the muscles of his shoulders. He splashed some water on his face and strode out of the bathroom and across the floor.

He opened the door just as Gambit was turning to face it. The glare that he gave to the Cajun made his sentiments clear enough, but Kurt was right, and first things had to come first.

"Alison, Herr Wagner here is correct. If you have called the authorities, please call them back and let them know that you have found your car, and that everything is fine. It is very good to see you again."

He kept his body oriented so it still faced Alison, but his neck craned a bit so that he could look directly at the girl with the green hair. "Lorna, I will -really- want to see you later. But for the moment, see if you can handle the police if they do show up, please? If need be, I will come out to meet them."

Every officer in the West Chester department knew of the generous donations that the West Chester Police Widows and Orphans fund received every year. That covered a lot of ground with these people.

"And you, sir," he said stiffly, the normal gentle tones absent from his rich voice, "owe this lady an apology and perhaps an explanation." Charles was sorely tempted to just fry the man's mind on the spot, but.. no. There was probably a good reason why he was here, too.

He spared a nod to Kurt, who had done well to speak up as he had. But then, at long last, he turned back to Alison Blaire. "I wish that you had come here years ago, Alison," he said, and the gentleness was instantly back in his voice, and his expression. "But whatever it is that brought you here now, I am grateful to see you. Welcome to my home, and the home of my fathers before me."

 

[SortOfBeautiful]

Laughter.

There was nothing more aggravating than the sound of a man's laugh when a woman was upset. Visibly upset.

"Gambit try and protect you, chère. Made sure 'dat car wasn't in your grasp no more. Didn't want risk you getting hurt. If you couldn't get back to that place, den you'd be safe! 'Dat was de intention de entire time."

His words made no sense, and it had nothing to do with his accent. He thought he was stealing his car because it would help her? No, this was definitely not the man she thought she knew. The man that she had invited her to her bed. Laughed and joked with. This was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, and he had no remorse when he hurt someone along the way.

Fuming, Gambit stepped closer to her. If he thought about embracing her, he clearly wasn't very good at judging a woman's face. She did not look like a girl who wanted to be hugged right now. And what frustrated her the most was that she couldn't control herself. Couldn't control the light and sparks that flickered inside her palms that were tucked away by her fingers. She only used her powers on stage. On stage where normal humans didn't know any better and thought her powers was some kind of magic trick or special effect. Here, they all knew better.

"Don't you dare step any closer, Gambit. I can't promise I won't do to you what I should have done to those men last night." She warned him, inhaling a deep breath.

"I hate to interrupt, but given the...um, special nature of this school and all present, maybe involving ze authorities iz not exactly in everyone's best interest, yes?"

Great, another person with an accent. But...where? Puzzled, Alison looked around. When her eyes followed Gambit's she gasped when she saw the man on the ceiling. Or wall. Or...well, it didn't matter! What the hell was he? Alison may have been a mutant herself, but never had she seen another one look so...different. She had a feeling that there was a lot more than she didn't know about, and it both intimated and scared her. Since the second she stepped into that mansion, she was in a whole new world.

Gambit stepped closer to her and had the nerve to put his hand on her small waist as Charles opened the door. While she would have welcomed the touch hours ago, now was a different time. Sneaking out of bed with a woman and stealing her car in the night warranted that right. But as Charles opened that door, Alison swallowed the lump in her throat. She wasn't ready for this.

"Alison, Herr Wagner here is correct. If you have called the authorities, please call them back and let them know that you have found your car, and that everything is fine. It is very good to see you again." Charles spoke, his voice calm. How could he be so calm? Was he expecting her?

And that was it? Well, that was disappointing. After years of separation, that was her greeting. Maybe the last time they sat down together wasn't as memorable for him as it was for her.

But...wait. Was he...aroused? It was hard not to notice, looking down and seeing him clearly erect. Was there someone in the office with him behind that door? The only thing they'd heard was music, before. Her music. Oh, God. Alison began blushing, deeply, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. He wasn't...wasn't he? Oh, god.

Trying to collect her thoughts, Alison cleared her throat. It was fucking hard to be pissed off at Gambit, annoyed at the green-haired girl, weirded by the dude on the ceiling, and wonder about what made Charles so hard all at the same time. This was a fucking awful day.

"Everyone can calm down. I called the cops, but...they told me they weren't coming. They have...better things to do, I guess." She sighed, heavily, not sure who to look at and who to turn to.

"I wish that you had come here years ago, Alison...But whatever it is that brought you here now, I am grateful to see you. Welcome to my home, and the home of my fathers before me."

And there it was. His welcome. That intense stare in his eyes. It made her heart race, and she could feel that her cheeks were warm. She didn't have to look in the mirror to know that she was blushing again. She turned her back to Gambit, so she could talk a moment alone to speak to the Professor.

"It's very lovely, Charles. I can see that now. But...I'm sorry, I can't stay." She broke it to him, releasing her fists now that she was a little more relaxed. "I really need to get my car; I need to be back in the city before dark." It was obvious in her eyes that a part of her wanted to stay. To look around. To meet others like her. To spend time with him. But she couldn't. And she couldn't say why. She wouldn't. What was she supposed to do? Tell him and the rest of them that she was a stripper now? That she needed to get back because of the contract she signed with her boss? The rules in that contract applied tonight. If she didn't show up, she'd be in some deep shit.

"Gambit," She turned away from Charles, looking back at her thief slash one-night stand. "I'm still waiting for you to give me my keys. Please." She gritted her teeth. She shouldn't be asking politely. She should be fucking threatening to blind his ass until Christmas, but...Alison Blaire was still far too nice than most deserved. But this wasn't over.

 

[Tight_n_ready]

Wanda

Wanda smiled, as Theresa talked about why she was here, and then laughed, the situation was pretty funny, even if it was a problem for her. "Wow, I wish I'd had an orgasm that hard, though I bet it's more of a problem than an advantage."

She smiled at Theresa's sweet, innocent reasoning, she could appreciate what it meant to her, even if it meant nothing to Wanda. She was barely sentimental, few things meant anything to her emotionally except her brother, but then she had grown up like that, never really having anything to call her own, living nomadically around Europe, always in fear of people's reactions to them, it had not been a good life, but she still missed her brother.

"That was you? I wondered why he wasn't interested in having any fun. And maybe later, if I'm not busy, but you know how it is, always so much to do."

She pulled a face, then watched as Theresa rushed away in the direction of the kitchen. She headed in that direction, but made a detour first, past the mailboxes in the front hall. She was, unlike it seemed, the others, fairly regular in checking her post, but she hadn't had the chance yesterday, she'd been out at University, and by the time she got back she had barely been able to stand up straight she was so exhausted.

She unlocked the box and pulled out the one lonely envelope, frowning at the multitude of different stamps it was plastered with. It was thin, light, cheap and stained paper. She slit it open and pulled out the cheap sheet of paper inside, unfolding it. She sat down hard.

'Beloved Sister...'

 

[Wyldfire]

Lorna

She watched things unfold and was glad to hear the professor ask her to deal with the authorities. Miss Bat shit really seemed to want a fight, and Lorna was not sure with who exactly. Lorna would have been willing to take care of it, but Bat shit seemed to have a history with Charles. This also got her away from the Cajun as well. Better and better. She gave the professor a professional smile and said "Yes, sir, I will speak with the nice police men when they come to the door." And with that she was off.

She walked until she was out of sight of the scene then took to a run. Up to her room, her clothes hitting the floor almost before the door closed. She did a quick, well practiced, make-up. Professional but just a touch more. the long green hair up into a bunn.

Next came the white lace bra, thong, and garter set, followed by the silk stockings. Black high heeled pumps came next with the white silk blouse following it, the little scarf like tie in a quick bow, then into the gray wool blend skirt, just low enough to cover the stockings with no fear of tackily showing the tops. The jacket came on next then the small gold wire framed glasses she tended to wear for effect. She heard the sirens cut off as her heels tapped down the stairs from the living quarter level. The police had reached the gate and were coming up quietly and respectfully.

The officers had reached the door and rang the bell. Lorna kept her pace and made the door and opened it just in time to see the nice officer. The very nice officer. Sargent Luis Del Rey. Six foot three, two hundred thirty five pounds of Yum. His face lit up, "Ms. Dane, always a pleasure." She returned the smile.

"Now Luis, you know better, it's Lorna, not Ms. Dane, unless of course...." she let the rest hang in the air.

The man startled and had the grace to blush. "Sorry Lorna, it's just that this is a business call. Gotta be professional, right?"

She smiled at Luis again. "I understand, but it was really just a misunderstanding. A lovers spat. You know how that can be," she took a half step back and opened the door. "Care to come in and "investigate"? I am sure we can work something out."

Luis looked around. Almost guiltily, "I do believe I will have to investigate ma'am." He grinned and keyed the radio he was carrying. "Del Rey at the Xavier school. The call was a..... prank. One of the students here being a kid. I'll be off the clock while I talk to her about prank calls to the police."

Dispatch almost openly laughed over the air. "Right Del Rey, gotcha." He was always late coming back from that place.

The pair quickly made their way back to Lorna's room. As the door closed Luis asked "Is it silk or lace this time?"

As the door closed and locked, Lorna laughed and said, "You'll just have to unwrap me and find out."

 

[tcost]

Charles

Lorna might have walked away in a professional manner, but Charles had a pretty good idea why she was so glad to deal with this particular problem. He rather envied the policeman -- one more fellow around here who had no need to fantasize about teenagers.

"It's not even mid-morning yet, Alison. You can at least stay for breakfast. You can certainly stay long enough for the two of us to have a private conversation."

It was funny how Charles could speak in such a gentle tone and yet sound so much like the voice of authority. Of course he was the authority, here, and very much in his element. Even if he was having one of those days.

"Your name is Gambit, sir?" Now the blue eyes were focusing on him. "I strongly suggest that you return Ms. Blaire's keys to her grasp, and without delay. You don't know what you're dealing with here, and this really, really is not the way that you want to discover that. We'll get you some breakfast, too, if you like. If not, since I doubt that Alison is going to offer you a ride back into the city, I can have you driven there; but I would like your address and phone number, if you please."

Now, he turned to Nightcrawler. "Kurt, could you kindly see Mister Gambit, here, to the commons, and see that he gets a good, hot meal? Then either have some breakfast yourself, or come back and see me, once I've spoken to Alison."

 

[Lachiyous]

Gambit

Over Five Years Ago. [New Orleans, Louisiana]

Aftermath.

Consequently, it's the end of some. Event. Be it: hurt. Loss. Or....

Betrayal.

Only when it mattered. And how. To those closest. The many, delicate strings of the heart. Would and could be. Plucked. The light of the soul. Extinguished. This, of course, was all but inescapable. It was. Just the matter. Of.

Time.

"See what you go an' did. Brought dishonor to de guild! To your family!"

He had no response. What could be said? All accusations. True.

"Because of her. Now you get on out. An' don't NEVER come back. No son of mine. Not now. Not ever."

The man left the teenager behind. Alone. His eyes down cast. Shoulders slumped.
What conceivably could be justification, enough. To. Toss up, and. Fling. Everything --the way of life -- one held dear. Away. And to be cast. Out. What?

"Remy..." She turned out to be that. Pivot.

<>Stay with him. When the time comes. Bring the boy to me.<>
========================================================================
Ten Months Ago. [Somewhere. In the Old World of Europe]

The blood.

Pooled.

Underneath. From the tips of fingers. On her right hand. The backside of her scalp. And in her hair. On her ribcage. The underside of her thighs. And calves. The thick syrup like substance. Decorated her. Seemingly. All over. It was a bloody mess.

And hopeless at that.

He gripped her...*****less form. Tightly. To him. The blood. Smearing all over him. Generously. Like paint. Tears. Staining, his cheeks.

She....was taken. Away. From him. His life -- the essence of it. Gone. The Hope. The Joy. Laughter and Beauty. No more. Just like that. Why? How, fathomably, could this have happened? What...

<>Careful with what you are about to say. And do.<>

One last single tear. Trickled down. Onto her. Being. And for her. Passing. He gently allowed her..to touch the ground. Eyes shut. Deep, deep breath. Or ten of them. Before rising. Eyes open. And shooting a glare at the dark figure before him.

"Dats it. Done deal. Don't want de NONE of dis no more!" One more look at death. And the shattering of a dream. Before he turned. Away. From the other.

<>This is who you are. What you are. At the end, LeBeau...you'd do well to remember: you belong to me.<>
========================================================================
Friday Night. [Somewhere. In New York]

Destiny.

Funny thing about destiny. Sometimes it finds one. Even when he or she is not sniffing all around for it. Just have to be ready. To notice. A sign. Flashing. Right before one's very eyes!

He had never entered the establishment of The Brazen Fox. The truth. He was just passing by, through the city. And it was. Her cries. For help. That altered his course. Sending him. And her, perhaps. On...something together.
========================================================================
Friday Late Night.

The moon's light filtered through her bedroom window. In a pale yellow. Sliver. Across a rosy cheek. Creeping up to the edge of her. Eye lashes.

He stood over her. Sleeping figure. And watched. The rise and fall. Of her chest, as she breathed. Life. Into her dreams. Whatever they may be.

It felt good tonight. Stepping in. And saving her. Something about that felt. Right. It wasn't JUST because she was lovely girl. The notion of heroics was....new. Different. Rewarding.

"Mnnumhh..." A murmur. The twist of blankets. He saw her snuggle deeper into her pillow. Maybe this life. Wasn't for her. Either. Did she need to get away? She mentioned a professor. A school. But what could he do, that would get her out. And away. From the danger. Like tonight?

He spotted her car keys. Upon the night stand. Worth a shot.
========================================================================
Friday Late Late Night. [Westchester, New York]

Before leaving the automobile. He scribbled. On a piece of paper. And placed that. Her keys. And a single. White. Rose. Within her glove compartment. Maybe when the dust settled, she'd forgive him. And think differently. Until then, he'd play the part he had to. If it meant. Getting her out of that city.

Only wanted you to be safe, chere. Didn't mean for you to get hurt in de process. Maybe someday you forgive Gambit.
========================================================================
Saturday Morning.

Mis. Understandings. Mis. Conceptions. Mis. Information. Half-truths.

At one, at small. Practically harmless. Yet. Given the chance to snowball into. Something rather large. Frighteningly. Painful. And quite deadly.

Who-so-ever, then, was on point. To. Make things right. When in the "heat of the moment". Until simmering down. Could one really be reasoned with? Communicated with? At the end -- or beginning -- of the day...what could possibly make HIM the ideal candidate for making. ANYTHING. Right.

When there was far. So. Much.

Wrong.

A leopard can't change its spots.

Even so. Effort(s). Shan't. Be ignored. Okay? Hmm...

The long sought after..."professor" opened his office door, and. Addressed. The situation. Seeking to. Establish his authority unto those present. He did not seem. Overly. Amiable. Toward Gambit.

Maybe this was a mistake after all.

No. Think. Think of her before all else. And make the. Play. Remember that...that heroic feeling from last night.

"Don't you dare step any closer, Gambit. I can't promise I won't do to you what I should have done to those men last night."

His smile vanished. Laughter. Completely absent now. He....retracted his hand from her waist. His methods of diffusing her anger. Clearly. Proved. Unsuccessful. She was to have. The none of his. Antics. Thus. Cemented. Her mind -- pinpointing and illustrating him the thief -- had been made.

All that was left: For her to have her cake and eat it too.

With his attention on Alison, he missed the departure of Lorna. Nor did he acknowledge anything further(or so far) from the professor. The way this was going....

"Gambit. I'm still waiting for you to give me my keys. Please." The trigger.

The Cajun nodded and recognized it was time. "In de glove compartment. Been dere de whole time."

Turning around, and. Placing both palms. Upon the surface of the wall before him. Gritting his teeth. Bright magenta emanating. From his eyes. And hands. Soon, also, the area of drywall surrounding his touch. With kinetic energy.

Wait.

That's NOT why he came here. He needn't do this. Not here, not now. Even if he didn't belong...

Sighing. He pulled his hands away. From the wall. The bright pink-ish purple now gone. In smoke. No mark was made. No harm. No foul.

He looked back at the blonde girl. Then the professor. He spoke to her for a last time, "Au revoir, chere. Gambit don't belong here. Never did."

A last nod, before he turned to walk down the hallway. And out the way he came in earlier with Lorna. He wasn't about to get lost. In the maze. Of a mansion.

Least he didn't blow anything up. That counted for something. Right? And things weren't THAT bad, now were they?

Just a small. Misunderstanding. Which....was enough. To shoo him on out of there....

<>This is who you are. What you are. At the end, LeBeau...you'd do well to remember: you belong to me.<>
========================================================================

 

[SortOfBeautiful]

"It's not even mid-morning yet, Alison. You can at least stay for breakfast. You can certainly stay long enough for the two of us to have a private conversation."

Still so overwhelmed, Alison didn't really know what to do with herself. She would have never come here. Hell, she had told Charles more than once that she never would. She wasn't ready to face people like her. And being around him...well, it was hard to put into words how she felt when she was around Charles.

But he was right. Even if she had somewhere to be, obligations to meet, she still had time. It was the least she could do; she was already all the way out here. She could stay for breakfast. And to chat about...whatever it was that he felt was left unsaid.

Gambit told her where her keys were, but why didn't she feel happier about it? Maybe it was the look in the other man's eyes. She'd seen Gambit's many looks. The look in his eyes when he was trying to be charming, funny, smart, and caring. And the look in his eyes when he had her in bed, twice. But this was a new look. She swore he looked sad.

"Au revoir, chere. Gambit don't belong here. Never did."

Alison opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Not a word, not even a noise. She only watched as he disappeared down the hallway, and she hoped that at least someone would stop him. But not her, she didn't have a whole lot of time.

Turning back to Charles, she waited until he was making eye contact with her again for she spoke.

"You want to talk? Let's talk." She decided, agreeing with his earlier suggestion. "And if you were serious about breakfast, I could definitely use some coffee." Alison let him lead the way, ignoring the nerves that were creating butterflies in her stomach. "This place looks so much bigger than you described, Charles. I can imagine you've come a long way. Good for you." She spoke sincerely, looking around and relaxing now that she was sure she was in control of herself again.

 

[tcost]

Charles Xavier.

Charles let his gaze linger on Gambit's point of departure for a moment, but then Alison was talking, and his attention wasn't going to be on almost anything other than that. He could hardly believe that she was finally here, whatever the proximate cause. Now he had to find a way to make her want to stay.

"The mansion has been remodeled, but not significantly expanded since my father's time," he returned. "I'll offer you the tour later on, after we've both had some breakfast, if you like. Come on," he said, including Kurt in his gesture, "let's all get some breakfast."

Half-turning to face the direction of the dining room, Charles stepped up along one side of Alison, and offered her his hand -- not to shake, but to hold as they walked. Even if she didn't take it, the gesture was important to him. And, if she did, the students would see that this new arrival was one with a different sort of relationship with the professor than anyone else who had come before.

Even so, he was not oblivious to Kurt Wagner. Kurt was the newest of his students, and the one he knew the least, and knew the least about. The manner in which Nightcrawler reacted to all of this situation would tell Charles something more about him than he already knew.

 

[SortOfBeautiful]

Alison was holding Charles' hand. She could hardly believe it. Did he do this to all of his guests; hold their hands while he took them to eat? Or friends? Or was it just her? Whenever they made eye contact, she sensed there was so much he wanted to say to her. There was so much that she wanted to say to him as well, but like in the past, she didn't have the courage.

Charles Xavier was a mystery to most. but he was one that Alison had always wanted to figure out. Not too long ago, he tried to let her in, making the first step in asking her to come back to this very mansion with him. Instead of following her gut, she followed her fear and stayed in the city.

And now, here she was. It was like a second chance. Without Gambit, she wouldn't have had it. So, she could be a coward again and run home to nothing and no one, or she could stick around. For once, stay put.

Well, she could. But only for a little while. Unlike years ago, now she actually had something tying her down now. A contract that she just couldn't walk away from. Not without some kind of penalty.

When they got to the dining hall, Alison sat down when she was motioned a place to sit. Nervously and curiously, she looked around. By the time they were eating, Alison didn't even know what to say. What to ask. Could she even have a private conversation with him, without curious ears listening in? Maybe not. She just kept her mouth shut, and spoke only when spoken to. But her eyes were always watching, occasionally looking over at the man who had less hair than she last remembered.

 

[tcost]

Charles

As Alison took a seat, Charles fixed the both of them some breakfast, and then brought it over to her and joined her, sitting across from her rather than next to her. People would want to know who this woman was, but Charles didn't know what he could say about her yet -- though he was hopeful.

To start with, as he was getting their food, he spoke of everyday, mundane things like the weather and the news; he did mention the robbery at Fort Knox, just in case it provoked any unexpected reaction. Here was a man who knew better than to assume that anything was a coincidence.

He left unsaid that this was not the private conversation he had spoken of having. That would be for when it was just the two of them, and in private.

His hair was entirely gone now, it was true. He had eyebrows and eyelashes, and, if he didn't shave, a beard, but nothing on the scalp. He managed not to look much older from it, just the same.

"How long do we have before you have to get back to the city?" Charles asked her. "I hope at least a couple of hours." Yes, he absolutely had to talk to her, and that might take some time, but he was hoping for more than that, too, and he wondered if she realized it, let alone would be open to it? Probably not, given the way that Gambit had used and abandoned her. So he tried not to let his hopes get up for that -- just establishing any sort of ongoing relationship with Alison Blaire would be a major step in the right direction.