The scritch scritch of a fancy pen sounded throughout a large, hardly furnished office room. It was working slowly and delicately along a piece of cream colored parchment in fine curves and loops. This was a very important document it was being made to write out and so there was no room for mistakes. With that, a contented sigh sounded from its owner as the last word, a signature, was placed and then a simple line stretched out across the bottom. "Sign here," the man turned the document around on his desk to face another standing nervously across from him. The perfection that was his work of art was then lost by the sloppy scribble of a name that was placed at the end with an uneasy hurry. He looked unpleasantly at the client, but tried not to roll his eyes as he took the new contract, rolled it up, and placed it inside a cardboard tube.

"Your deal is made then. We'll be calling on you in a week's time to collect your debt," he smiled sourly. "Don't forget." Then he took a wad of cash from his coat pocket and slid it across the table. The client took it greedily with no hesitation and rushed for the door, almost falling over a single wooden chair as he went. The man still sitting behind his polished oak desk picked up the receiver sitting idly on the edge and pressed a few numbers, "One new client. Just went rushing out to spend his life away."

"Good job, Erik," the voice on the other end praised. "I'll be faxing your itinerary soon." Then they hung up. Leisurely chats weren't exactly something they felt the need to occupy themselves with. Only simple messages on how the job was going and where it was going were important. Everything else was a waste of their time and wasting time wasn't something Erik Lensherr did.

Even now as he was waiting for the silence breaking hum of a paper coming through the fax he was preparing himself for the day's occupation. He laid out an open briefcase on his desk and began pulling tubes upon tubes from his organized shelf of them, removing the written contracts inside and placing them neatly in his case. He already knew who half the clients on his itinerary would be and even though taking their contracts for his visit wasn't necessary at all, it was a routine he fell accustomed to. He liked to keep his hands busy because if he wasn't busy he was thinking about his mother.

Erik's mother was deceased, murdered actually, and possibly by someone in this crooked business she had gotten herself involved with. Exacting revenge on the one responsible has been his lifelong goal and Shaw had promised to help him achieve that. In the meantime Erik was placed into a powerful position as one of the many loan sharks, the top loan shark, in the trade. Sebastian Shaw doesn't dirty his hands with the money swindling, he only keeps track of it, and Erik is loyal like a dog (although he really wishes he didn't have to be).

Just as the fax machine started up its dull rumbling Erik pulled on a pair of black gloves and slipped a knife into his coat pocket. The paper radiated heat even through the cloth on his hands as he picked it up and glanced over the names. He was a bit smug with himself as he read off every name he had already placed in his briefcase, but then he reached the end of the list to find someone new. Xavier. That was strange. He didn't recall ever having dealt a deal with someone of that name. He placed the list on his desk and stood in front of his shelf of contracts. His finger slid listlessly down the alphabet until he hit the right piece of cardboard piping. Sure enough, there was a Xavier. He drew it out from its snug position and turned it over in his hands before slipping out the parchment. It was old and dark and a little dusty. This couldn't be right. Why would they suddenly be dredging up such an old agreement?

He wasn't one to question his orders though and when he got a look at the location he was headed for he almost smiled. These were rich clients. If there was one thing Erik didn't mind, it was collecting debt from rich bozos and this one came with a hefty interest. So without another thought he stretched the paper out on top of the others and shut his briefcase with a snapof the latches.

His list of clients was quick to go through. He had dealt with them all before and just seeing him on their doorstep told them what was about to happen and what they should do. A few of them had managed to gather enough money to get them through till next week, but quite a few found their selves in a bad predicament. This was a nasty business. Erik knew that. He kept the guilty feeling from it away by telling himself they were all bad people using the money for ridiculous selfish reasons. No sick children. No lovers on their death bed. He tells himself that all the money they loan has never truly helped a soul.

So a rich twat with too much time on his hands who borrowed money for the fun of it was what he was expecting when he walked up the large grassy expanse towards the mansion he was last collecting from. The money was probably spent on some high end race car that sits in the garage he continues to theorize, traipsing through those last few paces. An ugly git who can only score women by showing off his wealth is what he thinks as raps his knuckles against the intricately designed wooden door.

The door pulls inward slowly and a man, probably in his early thirties, steps out into the entrance," Hello." With the image Erik had formed in his mind of who he'd be meeting it was only reasonable that he was suddenly taken aback by what he was actually presented. Short. Wavy, but neatly brushed back chocolate brown hair. Not to mention the stunning blue eyes. The only thing he got right was the prissy upper-class cardigan and even that he pulled off rather well. "May I… help you?"

Erik snapped out of his stupor, realizing the way he was staring was probably coming off in a creepy manner. He bowed his head somewhat in apology, but also to clear his clouded thoughts. Then he looked back up with a more business-like manner, "Well, I doubt you're the one to have made such an old agreement so is there possibly an elder gentleman living here?"

"If it's my father you're thinking of, he's no longer with us. Died a few months back."
"How about your mother then?" Erik hated dealing with women, but it was by rule that she should be the next person to talk to about her husband's dealings.

"Dead too, I'm afraid," the man sighed. "Sorry to say, but I'm the only one you could possibly talk to."
Fuck. He curses to himself as he realizes what is going on. These people must have been a powerful influence somewhere and copped their way out of paying back the loan. Shaw was just waiting for the two geezers to fall of the bucket so he could drop the debt on their unsuspecting kid. Shaw knows Erik doesn't like conducting business such as this, so why add the Xavier bloke to his list? He could have given it to any other shark that would be happy to beat up on a frail, educated upper-class guy with pretty looks. Just forget it, Erik. Father like son, right? Who cares if he's got puppy dog eyes and cherry red lips, he's probably just as arrogant and selfish as the rest of them.

"I suppose I'll have to," Erik opens his briefcase, just a tiny bit ecstatic that his need for being prepared was finally coming in handy. He removed the contract, closed the case, and held the paper out in front of him for the beneficiary to see. "You're father owes us quite a bit in debt and I've come to collect."

You could see the shock spread across the man's face as he read through and realized how much he meant by 'quite a bit'. "My father is dead, sir, I have nothing to do with whatever investments he made during his life."

"I'd like to disagree. We don't drop debts just because our clients drop off the face of the earth. You're his living successor, the debt falls to you."

"I'm sorry, but I don't have anywhere near this kind of money," he shakes his head vigorously and pushes the contract back into Erik's hands. He steps back and makes to the close the door on the unwanted visitor, but Erik slams his hand against the wooden slab and holds it open.

"I won't leave unt—"

He's stopped short by the presence of a young woman walking up behind his prey, "Charles, what's going on? Who's at the door?"

Charles. Charles Xavier. The so-mentioned eyes Erik despairingly and shouts out to the woman, "It's nothing, Raven. I'm dealing with it. Get back to your studies before I assign you even more homework." You could hear a loud groan moving back into the house and away from the door as she went to do as told.

"Homeschooled?" Erik questions. He shouldn't be prying into a client's personal life, but this intrigued him. He stepped out of the way as Charles decided to take their dispute outside and close the door behind him.

"Yes, well, I can't afford to send her to a real college," Charles rubbed his fingers wearily against his forehead. He took a moment to think about the situation he was in now before looking up into Erik's green pupils, "Is there anything else I can do to pay this off without cash? I really don't have the funds and I don't see myself getting such an amount any time in the near future."

Erik placed a hand against the wall of the house and leaned against it. "I've noticed you have quite the extravagant house," he said partially jokingly, "I'm sure you could put it on the market for almost just as much as your debt."

"No," Charles answered immediately, "no. Raven and I grew up in this house together and I could never take her out of that comfort zone even if I tried." He started to lose his calm and almost frantic with the thought of what could happen if he didn't get this sorted out. "Before you even suggest it, the majority of what lies within the house has already been sold and the profits used for our livelihood seeing as this home is the only thing that was left to us."

He started to pace back and forth in a short line, drumming a finger against his lips as he tried to think. Erik didn't even realize he was gawking, chewing on his lip even, until the worrying man came to a halt and turned to face him. "I'm at a loss here," he emphasized by throwing his hands out in front of him. A pained look crossed his expression and he placed his forehead in the crook of his thumb and index finger, his other hand resting on his hip.

"Hey, I'll…" What am I doing? Erik questioned while stepping forward and reassuringly gripping Charles' shoulder. "I'll figure something out for you."

"Really?" he looked up, a little brighter in the face. Then he took the other man's hand from his shoulder and shook it in both his own. "I would be most grateful."