The Exquisite Cafe.

Westchester, New York.

Kathryn Pryde, better known as Kitty to her friends, snaked her way through the cafe, coffee in each hand, headed towards the table where a blonde woman sat, her short hair revealing multiple earrings in each ear. A single duffel, a backpack, and a black hard case sat at her feet and she was idly shredding a napkin.

"Here you go," Kitty said brightly before sitting down opposite the blonde.

"Thanks," the blonde said in a slightly subdued voice and Kitty managed a small smile because quite frankly, seeing Tabitha Smith subdued was freaking her out. Yet, it was still better than the Tabitha who'd arrived at the Xavier Institute a year ago traumatized and suffering. It had taken the Professor, Ms Grey, and Ms Frost to put her back together and yet, looking at her eyes, Kitty could see that there was still a piece or two missing.

"You don't have to leave, you know," Kitty said.

"Yeah, Whiskers, I do," Tabitha replied, letting the pieces of the napkin fall to the table. "I'm grateful and all, but you guys were never my thing." Her hands clenched around the coffee cup. "I just - I gotta . . . I gotta move on."

"Where you headed?"

"The city. The Professor got me set up with one those work programs for ex-cons."

"Doing what?"

Tabitha shrugged. "Sortin' and delivering mail at some place fulla suits. Roxxo or somthin'."

"Are you sure that's enough action for you?" Kitty asked, trying make it sound like the gentle teasing it was.

Tabitha jerked in her seat and then she managed a slight smile. "Yeah . . . I . . . honestly, Whiskers?" Kitty nodded. "I've been scared so straight you could use me like one o' those level things. I ain't never going back." She picked up the remnants of the napkin and resumed shredding it. "Never." she shuddered.

Kitty nodded. "Look, Tabs."

"Tabs?"

"You call me Whiskers, I call you Tabs. I know we aren't friends, but . . . I never really hated you and . . . and I'm sorry for some of the things I've said."

Tabitha blinked and then she smiled. "Some?"

"You will never be forgiven for the python." Tabitha actually laughed at that and Kitty's smile felt more normal as she glanced at her watch. "Crud, your train leaves soon. Here, I have something for you." Kitty reached into her purse and pulled out a small paper bag, from which she pulled out a small watch attached to a belt clip, three packs of gum, a pair of large pink sunglasses, and a black plastic rectangle. "The watch is from Amara and Hisako. Mostly Hisako. They wanted to make it a wristwatch, but the Professor talked them out of it."

"That's a good thing," Tabitha said quietly. "Aren't those Lee's glasses?"

"One of many, yes," Kitty replied. "She also sent the gum. She said that they're for when you're ready."

"Is she still doing that mystic schtick?"

"Logan's encouraging her." Kitty made a face. "It irritates Scott."

"Then I really need to move on." Tabitha tapped the plastic rectangle. "What's this?"

Kitty picked it up. "Power here." She pressed a button at the top and a giant red X appeared. "This is keyed to you and you alone. If you ever need us, press it. If anyone else but you activates it, it'll act like an iPod."

"I ain't gonna get into any scrapes, Whiskers."

"I don't think that's why the Professor wanted you to have it," Kitty said quietly.

"Oh." Tabitha nodded and slipped the rectangle into her pocket, clipped the watch to her belt and put the gum and the glasses into her duffel bag. "Tell 'em thanks."

Kitty raised her cup. "To never going back."

Tabitha raised hers. "You got that goddamn right."

Tony Stark pursed his lips as he stalked through the halls of Roxxon, clipboard in hand. He was a lean, trim man with black hair and bright blue-grey eyes that under most circumstances, twinkled with mischief. But not today. Today, he was visibly repressing a scowl and his grip on the clipboard under his arm threatened to shatter the cheap plastic.

Administrator for the ex-con program? Like he didn't have enough to do already? Ten years. TEN YEARS and it got him this? Another title? Did he look like some aristocrat? Was it some kind of Pokemon thing? Collect all the titles! Fun for all near middle age men who could run rings around any brain in the place. But did he count himself among their number? Why, heavens no. You went to technical school and you have ideas? That's adorable, Stark. Oh, the copiers in Legal are down again. Yeah, if you could get those fixed, that would be great.

"Stark."

Tony's head snapped around and he found himself looking at a thin man with closely cropped red hair dressed in a suit. "Who are you?"

"My name is Gyrich. You're the administrator for Roxxon's ex-con work program."

"Among many other things. Get to the point."

"There's a name on your list; Tabitha Smith. I have some friends who would take it as a personal favor if she failed out of the program or better."

"Better?"

"You know how it is with these people. They can't stop stealing and Roxxon does have a zero-tolerance policy for theft." Gyrich smiled. "You do this, and we can garuntee that some very powerful people will give your inventions strong financial consideration."

White hot fury flashed across Tony's face. "No." He jabbed his finger into Gyrich's chest. "That patronage garbage is what got my old man into trouble and cost him his company so take your offer and shove it." With that, Tony stormed off.

Gyrich watched him go and shrugged. He hadn't really expected Stark to take his offer anyway. Besides, if this went south, they had a fall guy.

"All right, kids," Tony said, walking into the room. There was no trace of his anger from earlier. Instead, there was bounce in his step and a grin on his face. While Joel Grey had sung about giving them the razzle dazzle, Tony personified it. He might not have been made a star, but giving them the razzle dazzle, yeah, he had that down cold. "My name is Tony, and I'm the Roxxon administrator for the wonderful program that has brought us all together."

"Your sarcasm is showing," snarked a blonde haired girl.

"And you are?"

"Tabitha. Some people call me Boom Boom."

"And lots of people call me Mr. Stark, so there we go," Tony replied with a perfectly straight face. So this was Gyrich's favor. She was not washing out, Tony swore, not if he could help it. If for no other reason than to stick it to Gyrich and whoever held his leash. "Here's what's gonna happen. We're gonna start with a tour. I'd like to promise Willy Wonka delights, but upper management keeps refusing my proposals for chocolate rivers and I can't sing." A small chuckle went through the room. He gestured. "Come on, let's go." As they filed out, Tony's eyes dropped as Smith walked past.

Boom Boom indeed.

Robert Earl Granger was one of those men whose head that started out narrow at the top and widened as you went down until it ended in a blocky square jaw. Below that, he appeared to have been put together with spare parts. He could actually pull off a plaid shirt and a polka dot bow tie. Black rimmed glasses perched precariously on a long, narrow nose.

"Ms. Smith," He began, folding his hands on his desk. "I am a very busy man. As manager of the mailroom, there are many matters that require my attention and I have to put those aside to monitor your work." Stringy eyebrows lowered. "Therefore, your singular most important duty is to ensure that my review of your performance is favorable." he adjusted a pencil that apparently was at a bad angle in the pencil cup. "I arrive at precisely nine every morning and I expect the same of those under my purview. You will perform your duties swiftly, quietly, and with minimal input. Mail delivery is at ten in the morning and again at three in the afternoon. I strongly advise you to exceed my expectations as the program administrator will be making his decisions about your future here based on my input."

Multiple responses flashed through Tabitha's mind, but in the end, she settled for "Yes, Sir." As an experiment, she edged her tone to just shy of disrespect.

Granger 's expression didn't change, but he nodded slightly, as though pleased with her response. Which only proved that Frost had been right about the self-important; they only heard what you said, not how you said it. "It is now Nine Oh-Five in the morning, Ms Smith. You will report to my assistant, Ms Reed, for training. I expect you to learn your duties quickly enough to assist with the ten o' clock mail delivery. Good day."

"Yes, Sir," Tabitha said rising from her seat and exiting quickly. "Like Summers, without the benefit of being hot," she muttered to herself when she'd closed the door behind her and went looking for Granger's assistant.

A week later, Tabitha was awakened by the sound of an incoming text message on her phone. The noise wasn't that loud, but she was awake instantly anyway. Gone were the days when she could sleep through anything short of an explosion, but she had resigned herself to that months ago. She shook her head, pushing the last vestiges of the dream away. She'd been awoken before the dream had turned into a nightmare, and while familiarity had worn the terror down from its jagged edge, it still made her heart pound, because she couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop Big Sal. Couldn't stop herself. Couldn't stop the collar going around her neck. Couldn't stop them from- No.

"No!" she hissed, lunging off the bed and scrambling across the room to the black hard case.

Much later, she picked up her phone. The text was from Kitty; In town w/ Piotr, want to see you.

Tabitha sneered at the phone screen before responding. Izzat you wanting to see me, or Eyeballs wanting to make sure I haven't spilled any secrets?

Both. Have news, Kitty replied and Tabitha cracked a smile. If nothing else, Kitty was honest. Besides, she sort of missed her, even if what Kitty saw in ol' Steel Buns escaped her completely.

Mel's Diner on Madison in two hours, Tabitha sent back, checking the time. You're buying.

"We are always buying," Pitor Rasputin grumbled. "You let her take advantage, Kataya."

"I'm the one inviting her to lunch, Piotr," Kitty replied in Russian as she Googled for the diner.

"She has a job," Piotr responded in the same language. Russian was his mother tongue. "Why doesn't she buy?"

Kitty rolled her eyes. Piotr had his good points, but he held grudges (to her eternal annoyance) and he and Tabitha had never gotten along, which was just going to make this difficult. In fact, out of all them, she and Kurt were the only ones who had ever gotten along with Tabitha and Kurt just didn't have it in him to push. While Scott wanted to believe that Tabitha had changed, her history with them had argued otherwise and she knew too much. "She already knows why I want to see her," Kitty said, just a hint of sharpness in her tone, "making her buy is adding insult to injury."

Piotr made a huffing noise in his throat. "She is still taking advantage, Kataya. I don't like it."

Kitty glanced in a window and smiled. Logan's training paid off yet again. "Behind us and across the street are three individuals with an intense interest in us. If I let you beat them up, will you promise to not to aggravate Tabitha?"

Piotr looked down at her and she saw his eyes flick upwards and scan the other side of the street before he bent down to kiss her, which she happily returned. "Very well, Kataya, I promise."

Mel's Diner offered bottomless spaghetti and meatballs, which Piotr ordered. The fight with the thugs (one of them had turned out to be a mutant of the super strong variety), and the following make out session (which still had Kitty's motor running) had burned up his energy reserves. Also, eating kept him occupied and silent.

"By the way, nice hickey," Tabitha smirked, leaning back in her chair. The remains of a massive bacon cheeseburger sat on her plate along with a few steak fries and an empty pint of beer. "So, Whiskers, what's new?" She nodded her thanks as the waitress set a Jack and Coke on the table and moved off.

Kitty adjusted the collar of her turtleneck and did not blush. "Creed's crawled out from under his rock," she said acidly and Tabitha scowled. Graydon Creed was a bigoted sociopath who had made the demonization and eradication of mutants his life's work. Unfortunately, he was also smart enough to keep himself out of prison. "And, he and his goons have signed on with Kelly's crowd." Tabitha's scowl grew deeper. While Creed was a threat, Senator Robert Kelly was worse. Kelly truly and honestly believed mutants were a threat to the good of all humanity. For years, he had been working on legislation that if the Professor was right, would eventually lead to death camps for mutants.. What didn't add up was why. Kelly was for legislating, Creed was for extermination. Shared hatred or no, Kelly and Creed joining forces was baffling.

"Drop the bomb, Whiskers. No, wait a minute." Tabitha picked up the Jack and Coke and slugged it back. "Okay, go."

"Kelly's got a new tactic. They're trying to drum up support for their registration act by targeting mutants who are ex-cons and sabotaging their rehabilitation attempts. Including those on work programs. If the cons fail out and go back to crime, then it's proof positive that they, at least, need to be registered and tracked. They have a list, and you're on it."

Tabitha's eyes flashed fire. "Son of a bitch. Next time I see that red haired twig-"

"Who?" Kitty interrupted.

"My second day at Roxxon, I thought I saw Gyrich down a hallway. I had Granger and Stark on my ass and couldn't think of a reason to stop and get a better look." She flagged down the waitress and ordered another Jack and Coke, this one a double.

Kitty made a face. Henry Gyrich was Kelly's errand boy, attack dog, and whatever else he needed to be. In some ways, he was more dangerous than Kelly and Creed put together. "If Gyrich is off his leash, Kelly must have something up his sleeve. Something big."

"And another beer," Tabitha told the waitress as she set down the Jack and Coke. "Kelly wouldn't waste Gyrich on me," Tabitha mused as she sipped her drink. "One of Creed's maybe, but not Gyrich."

"You order anything else besides dessert and you're paying for it," Kitty warned, even as she smiled inwardly. Tabitha was no genius, but when when God was handing out brains, she'd gotten someone's share. "You're not getting drunk on my tab. And you're right, Gyrich must have a bigger reason for being at Roxxon. Any ideas?"

Tabitha spread her hands. "I just hand out the mail, Whiskers."

Kitty snorted. "Right. I roomed with you, Tabs. I know you. It's why I'm sitting here instead of Scott. If you haven't already found the office gossip and cozied up to him or her, I'm a Shi'ar Battle Drone."

"Fair point," Tabitha said, finishing the Jack and Coke as the waitress showed up with a beer. "Three slices of chocolate doom cake."

"And the bill," Kitty added. "Chocolate doom cake?"

"Remember the choco-pocolypse from that place in Boston?"

"Chocolatier?"

"Yeah."

Kitty's eyebrows went up. "All right."

Tabitha picked up the beer and curled up in her chair, holding the glass in both hands, a clear sign that she both needed to think and intended to nurse the beer until it was gone. "Either o' you ever hear of some geek named Trask?"

Kitty frowned. The name rang a bell then it clicked. "Oh, that is not good." Piotr, for his part, had gone very, very still.

Tabitha looked back and forth between them. "Am I gonna need more Jack?" she asked.

"Tell us what you know," Piotr demanded.

"I overheard a couple of office bimbos yesterday talking about how Tech is in a tizzy because some geek named Trask is coming by on Monday to look over some salt and all project."

"Salt and . . . Sentinel?" Kitty asked.

"I think so. Bad?"

"Depends. Does your definition of bad include three story tall heavily armed robots who can detect mutants?"

Tabitha raised both eyebrows. "I thought only the Professor could do that."

"So did we." Kitty folded her hands on the tabletop. "We were in Canada last year chasing down Logan's sister daughter clone thing and Hank-"

"Logan's what?" Tabitha interrupted.

"Not important right now."

"Sez you."

"Later. Point is, the lab's files were eating themselves, but Hank an I managed to rescue a few scraps. They were part of an overview which described the Sentinels and listed a Bolivar Trask as project head. We thought it was just a research proposal, especially since nothing had been heard since."

"Roxxon must be providing tech to project," Piotr put in. "Kelly would love mutant detector."

"So would Creed," Kitty muttered. Creed had to be after the mutant detector, but why would Kelly bring in a sociopath like Creed? It still didn't add up.

Tabitha was thinking hard now. "What about Medusa corp?"

"A front for something called Hydra," Kitty replied. "Warren was in the mansion with the Professor yesterday talking about it."

"What's Hydra?" Tabitha asked.

Kitty shrugged. "It rings a bell, but I had a class to teach so I couldn't look into it and then this morning, Scott told me to pay you a visit. He looked worried, though."

"Eyeballs always looks worried," Tabitha said making a motion with her hand. "Anyways, that's where Trask is from." She pushed her voice up several octaves. "So, um, that Trask guy is coming over from Medusa. He totally creeps me out."

Kitty couldn't resist a giggle. Tabitha could act completely brainless when she put her mind to it. "Scott's going to want to talk to you."

"You mean have Birdie and Ice Queen put a vacuum through my skull. Joy." Tabitha said sarcastically.

At that moment, the waitress returned with three cakes and the bill. Kitty glanced at the total and glared. "We are never taking you to lunch again."

"The cake is worth it," Tabitha said dismissively.

It had been obvious almost from the start that Tony was . . . special. He blew math scores out of the water while still in elementary school, and had built a robot out of spare parts that had been lying around his father's engineering consulting business at the age of 7. By 15, he'd been passed out of high school and should have been college bound. Instead he'd gone to technical school.

It wasn't that schools didn't want him, or that his parents didn't have money saved for college, it was that Tony had refused to accept either, seeing them as patronage. It was patronage that had brought down Howard Stark and Tony, more stubborn than a whole herd of mules, refused to repeat that mistake. He'd scraped together the money for school himself, patenting a couple of inventions which still brought in money fifteen years later and held some rights in software programs still in use, which also netted him some money. When combined with his salary at Roxxon, the occasional moonlighting as an engineering consultant, and his own sheer stubbornness, Tony was able to survive on his own in New York. No roommates, no help. Just how he liked it. That he'd inherited the old firehouse helped.

"You are a waste of space," Tony informed the robot at the edge of his work table. "A travesty." He flicked a finger at the circuit board in front of him. "Solder there."

Dummy whirred and his claw spun, making Tony grin affectionately. Dummy had been Tony's senior project at tech school. Unfortunately, Tony had been drunk, depressed, and on his third day without sleep at the time. As a result, Dummy's speech recognition and ability to follow commands were limited. He kept meaning to upgrade Dummy to something useful, but like a pet, Dummy had . . . charm and would sit there and listen to Tony ramble as he worked.

He was the only one who would.

As a rule, Tabitha abhorred exercise and sports. As far as she was concerned, pools were for tanning, who cared what people did with a ball, and running was boring. She also had zero interest in weights and was fairly sure horses were up to something, which is why they were all docile; it was part of their master plan. However, she had discovered over the past year that nothing chased away the last cobwebs of the nightmares like a pair of rollerblades and death metal in her headphones at top volume.

So, strapped into a pair of neon yellow rollerblades and wearing athletic shorts and a sports bra, Tabitha pushed off from the wall onto the jogging trail. She wore no protective gear, because really, where was the fun in that?

Grinning, she began to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster until her legs were carrying her down the trail at top speed. The endorphins began to flow as her hair whipped in the wind and her muscles began to sing. The world narrowed until there was just her, the wind, and men screaming in her ears to the sound of drums and heavy electric guitars. Almost on reflex, she moved around people, dogs, and whipped past benches, scattering birds.

Soon, she reached the far end of the trail, and stepped off onto the grass. Pausing only to switch out her skates for sandals, she began to flow through the movements of muy thai. In her ears, the screams and electric guitars became less of a motivation and more something she ignored, blocking it out to focus. She'd stopped practicing two years ago, and it had bit her on the ass in prison. If she'd been keeping up, then maybe she wouldn't have- she pushed the memory away even though the image of Big Sal would always be there, engraved on the inside of her eyes.

Furious with herself for looking back like that, she started over, pushing herself this time, throwing her all into her movements. Gradually, as she came to the end, she became aware that she was not alone on the grass. Turning to see, she found herself looking at Stark who was shirtless and- Tabitha's thoughts short circuited because Stark . . . damn.

At work, Stark always wore a suit which hid a lean build and while not overly muscled, it was obvious that he knew where the gym was and visited it regularly. He had the broad shoulders of a boxer or a fighter and solid looking legs with a trim waist and visible abs. Again, damn.

For his part, Tony, a connoisseur of women's anatomy, appreciated Tabitha's form. Long legs widened into hips that were just wide enough to be noticeable before narrowing back to a trim waist and then upwards to broad shoulders and long arms that were just slightly muscled. Pitcher's arms. She threw things. She wasn't his usual type, but there was something about her that held his attention. Also, of course, her butt.

"Hello, Ms. Smith," he said, smiling.

"This ain't the office, Stark," she said, her brain getting itself back in gear. "Call me Tabitha."

"Then I'm Tony."

"Fine." She plopped on the grass next to him and stole his water bottle, taking a long drink before handing it back.

Tony thought about pointing out that it was bad form to steal from one's superior, but he liked her inability to give a damn. "What art was that?"

"Muy Thai. Kinda outta practice though."

Tony nodded. "Wu-Shu. More for the workout than anything." He cocked his head at her headphones. "Death Metal?"

"Only for stuff like this. Otherwise, if it ain't Grungecore, don't care."

"Good policy," Tony mused dryly, causing her to laugh. "Me, I go for the classics. AC/DC, Ozzy, those guys."

"Pfft," Tabitha sneered. "Shirtless old guys. Although Ozzy and the bat thing is awesome."

Later, when they had parted ways, Tony noted to Dummy that that was the first time he could remember where he had fun talking about nothing and everything.

Dummy had studied him for a moment and then clacked his fingers, whirring and beeping. Tony ignored the fact that the whirring and beeping sounded suspiciously like sarcasm.

"Wait a minute, seriously? Stark? Tony Stark? As in just about the only guy here whose under forty, single, and not gay?" Bethany Cabe was the building gossip. It might be odd for a security professional to be a gossip, but she somehow managed to toe the line without spilling confidential information. Tabitha had taken an immediate liking to her and they'd been meeting in the Roxxon cafe for lunch every day. "You had a date with Tony Stark."

"We just talked shit is all," Tabitha pointed out.

"Yes, first in a park and then at a bar, where he paid the tab. That, my friend, is a date."

"It weren't no date."

"One, that's bad grammar, and two, yes it is." Cabe leaned forward. "I've been here two years and Stark hasn't dated. Anyone. At all."

"And he's still not." Tabitha insisted. "For cryin' out loud, Cabe, all we did is hang. Anyways, I'm fresh outta prison, even if he was interested, and he ain't, he runs the ex-con program, that makes him my boss . . . boss . . . or something." She scratched her ear, because that didn't make much sense, even to her. "It wasn't a date," she repeated.

"Doesn't mean he doesn't want one. Potts in Accounting says that the last time he shadowed you, he couldn't take his eyes off your butt -not that I blame him, your butt is awesome - and I promise you, no man is that interested in a woman's butt unless he wants a shot at it."

Tabitha sat back in her chair, fingers curled around her bottle of beer, which was a perk of being a Roxxon employee; the cafe served beer. Not that it was good beer; there was barely any alcohol, and you were limited to two per day, but it was the thought that counted. "You're crazy," she said, grinning.

"Maybe," Bethany said with a shrug. "Point is, Stark is interested."

"He's not." Tabitha drained her beer. "He's not and you're crazy."

"Doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Tabitha decided that this was as close as opportune as she'd get. Frost had pumped her head full of all sorts of thinking stuff and she figured now was as good a time as any to use it. "Changing the subject."

"Aw."

"Changing the subject," Tabitha repeated. "You ever hear of someone named Trask?"

Cabe frowned. "Why?"

"A couple of bimbos were talking the other day about him coming to visit. Said he creeped them out and I wanna know if I need to boot his ass out the fiftieth floor window."

"Defenestration is not a catch all solution," Cabe pointed out.

"Defen what?"

"Defenestration. The act of throwing a person or thing out a window."

"There's a word for that?"

"Yes." Cabe thought for a moment. "He's hush hush. Top Secret. I don't know what he's working on, but I doubt I'd be allowed to tell you if I did and yes, he is a creep, and no, you're not allowed to 'boot his ass out the fiftieth floor window'. I doubt he'd look at you anyway." Her hands made vague motions towards her chest. "Not enough to grab his attention. Anyways, he works for Medusa Biotech."

"Wasn't Medusa the thing where it kept growing heads?"

"No, Medusa could turn people to stone if they saw her face. Hydra grew two heads for every one that got cut off. It was also the name of the Nazi deep science division that broke off from the Axis and was eventually defeated by Captain America."

"Oh." Tabitha thought for a moment. "Who's Captain America?"

Cabe stared at her, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "You . . . don't . . . didn't . . . who's . . . you . . ."

Tabitha howled with laughter. "Chill, Cabe, I know who he is. I'm just messing with you. Sheesh."

Cabe groaned. "I hate you."

"Care to share the joke, Ladies?" Stark had somehow managed to show up at the end of their table without either of them noticing.

"Tabitha pretended not to know who Captain America was," Cabe grumbled, waving a hand in Tabitha's direction. "She's evil."

Stark chuckled. "Oh man, that's a good one. That's like saying you don't know who Elvis is."

"Who?" Tabitha asked. They both stared at her open mouthed. "Seriously. Who's Elvis?"

"Okay, Tabitha? Honey? Is there a guide for how to tell when you're spewing bullshit?" Cabe leaned forward. "Because seriously, I can't tell."

"Is he the guy who sang 'Achey Breaky Heart?'" Tabitha asked. "Because I like that song." Stark twitched and Tabitha stood up. "I have to get back." She headed to the doors with a grin. Outside, the grin became a gigantic smile. She waited until she was in the elevator to laugh.

Back in the cafe, Cabe turned to Stark. "Well?"

"What?"

"You went on a date with her, was she joking or not?"

Stark stared at her. "What date?"

Cabe did a double face palm. "Oh God."

Author's Note: I'll be honest, this fic probably will not be continued beyond this first chapter and I mostly started it because the pairing idea amused me and while I have an idea of the overall arc, I really have no idea how to write a romance so I'm throwing it up here for the hell of it.

In short, never say never, but don't hold your breath either.