I stood outside the phone booth and watched Charles from behind the glass as he nodded, talking to the other end of the line. His voice was muted and I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, so I pressed my ear to the window in a futile attempt to listen in.

After leaving Asteroid M Charles had broken our uneasy silence by asking to borrow a nickel. It had taken me a moment to find one, nestled among the lint a the bottom of my pocket, and he had run off to find a pay phone as soon as the cool metal coin touched his fingers. It wasn't hard for me to catch up, my legs much longer than his, but the food seemed to have given him a burst of energy. I just hoped he wouldn't use it all at once.

It was still ridiculously hot, the air stagnant and humid. I fanned myself with one hand as sweat beaded on my forehead. The smells of the city were exaggerated, gasoline and concrete and restaurant grease and garbage and food carts. When one stood still, it could be a bit overpowering. I hoped Charles would hurry up so that we could get moving again and get off the streets.

There was a muffled thump as Charles hung up. I pulled my head away from the door and adjusted my body so that I leaned coolly with my back against the wall, arms crossed and nonchalant as he emerged from the booth. He flashed me a nervous smile.

"She says she'll tell Raven to meet us at the café. It'll probably take her an hour to get downtown at this time of day, so we should be back by eleven."

I nodded, pleased that the conversation with his informant- a maid in the Xavier household- had gone well. We had decided that Asteroid M was the best location for our rendez-vous with Raven: it was in a quiet, out of the way part of town, it was small, and it wasn't too far away from Alex's apartment or from my hotel. The chances of Raven being recognized were slim.

I realized with a jolt that I had referred to my office as Alex's apartment". I tried to shake off the discomfort that thought brought to my mind.

Charles looked as anxious as I suddenly felt. He shifted his weight from side to side, hands deep In his pockets, glancing down at his suit self-consciously. "Do you think she'll laugh?"

"At what?" I asked.

"Oh, don't act like you don't know what I mean." He huffed. "I look like a bum."

"You sort of are a bum." He glared at me. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"Yes, well. My current lifestyle may not be exactly glamorous, but I was still raised a gentleman." His expression softened, shifting from irritation to sadness with his eyes downcast. "And beside, I don't want to embarrass her."

"She won't be embarrassed, Charles. She's your sister." He looked unhappy despite my platitudes. I coughed awkwardly. "I, uh… might have a nicer jacket that you could wear."

Charles raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Erik, you're at least five inches taller than me. The sleeves would go down to my knees."

I pulled a cigarette from my pocket, striking a match to give my hands something to do. "The jacket isn't mine. And I'm pretty sure it'll fit you just fine."

"This is a little creepy." Charles said as I pulled the rumpled suit jacket out of my bag, spreading it on the hotel bed in a vain attempt to smooth wrinkles out of the silk. "Why on Earth would you keep it? I'm sure you could have sold it for a good price."

"It didn't belong to me. And besides, I never needed the dough." I lived frugally by nature, the product of an impoverished, immigrant upbringing, and in the three years I was on the run never once had my savings threatened to run dry, though I had ended up dipping into the account I had set up for my mother before she was killed once or twice. That money had been part of my dream for us; the pennies hidden away from her job as a seamstress, my policeman's paycheck safely deposited in the bank every week, saving for a car, a food, a house in the country. It was empty money after she died, and sometimes I wished that Magda had taken it with her in the divorce settlement. But it had served me well eventually, paying for motel rooms and diner meals, cigarettes and newspapers. I had never needed to sell the jacket.

I had never wanted to sell the jacket.

Charles ran a hand over the lapels. "I must have had five copies of that same suit in my closet. They're probably still there, if Kurt hasn't returned them to the store. Or burned them." He squinted at me. "What use could you have possibly had for this? It's about three sizes too small. You couldn't exactly wear it. Did you bury your nose in it at night and dream of me?" His voice was mocking, teasing. I rolled my eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself." I wasn't as pathetic as all that. The smell of his cologne had long since worn off the garment, and when it was still there I only noticed it in passing, when some of it rubbed off on one of my turtlenecks or my undershirts. Crowded together with all my worldly belongings in one tiny suitcase, keeping the jacket had been a huge waste of space, truthfully, but it had stayed there all the same, peering out at me from under spare pairs of socks and my well-worn copy of The Metamorphosis.

Charles shrugged off his cheap jacket, the synthetic fibers bulging unattractively at the badly sewn seams, and shimmied his arms through the sleeves of the silk coat. Even with the threadbare trousers and the scuffed shoes, the five-o-clock shadow and the shabby fedora, he looked elegant and dapper. Not quite as high class as the old Charles but the long-lost jacket fit him well, if a little loosely. His shoulders straightened imperceptibly, and he seemed to relax.

I cleared my throat. "I'd lose the tie, if I were you."

He tugged the tacky necktie off hastily, throwing it to the bed and undoing the top button of his shirt. He grinned at me, spreading his arms wide. "How do I look?"

His blue eyes twinkled in the shadow-heavy light that seeped in through the curtains. I felt a stirring in my chest, the animal the seemed to constantly be half-awake whenever I was around Charles growing more alert. "I'd tell you my honest opinion, but it's not appropriate for polite company."

"I'm only polite company if I'm dressed the part." He took a step towards where I sat on the bed. "Would you say it if I took this off?"

My breathing quickened. In the room above us, someone turned on a phonograph, and the scratchy sounds of Etta James buzzed mutedly through the ceiling. "I'd consider it."

The fabric made a shushing noise as it fell to the floor, Charles moving closer. He reached a tentative hand to his shirt, undoing the second button. "Now?"

"Still too formal." I shook my head. "I'd hate to say something rude in the presence of a gentleman."

"I never feel very gentlemanly around you." The third button popped open. Charles' collarbones seemed to glow, his pale skin peeping out from beneath the dark cotton shirt. He stepped closer, his knees brushing mine as he moved between my parted thighs. I looked up as he stared down, his eyes wide and uncertain but fixed on mine. The shirt slid off his shoulders. "I don't feel like much of anything around you."

I curled a hand around his hip, gently pushing him closer to me, my palm splayed on the curve of his side. I pressed my lips to his flat stomach, resting my forehead against his ribs. My eyes had closed but I could feel his fingers winding their way into the hair at the back of my neck, tangling messily as he let out a sigh, the exhale moving his body under my mouth.

"What do I look like to you now?" He breathed, nails scratching lightly against my scalp as he tightened his hold. I pressed another kiss to his stomach, the skin soft and yielding.

"Perfection."

He stood there in silence, hands in my hair. I could feel his chest rising and falling with every second, his heartbeat fainter than the music from the phonograph upstairs. Then the hands were gone, and I was left kissing air.

I opened my eyes and saw Charles standing before me, a few steps back and out of the way. He knelt and picked up his shirt and jacket, glancing at me for a moment before diverting his gaze to the carpet. "We should go. Raven will be at the café soon."

"Right." I straightened my collar. "Of course." I forced myself to look away as Charles disappeared back into his shirt, his jacket. The tie stayed on the floor, but he picked his hat up from where it had fallen and screwed it squarely onto his head.

He rolled his shoulders like a cat. "Thank you for giving me my jacket back."

"Well, you are the rightful owner."

He smiled at me faintly. "Yes, I suppose I am."