"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me," said Magneto.
The raccoon shuffled his paperwork. "We are very happy to hear of your interest in Nook Inc's offerings, yes yes!"
When Magneto had first conceived of the idea of a mutant homeland, this was not where he thought it would begin, but he was desperate. In the wake of the Apocalypse, the governments of the world had been appropriately grateful for mutant assistance. They'd issued Magneto a blanket pardon for all his past actions (he strongly suspected the role of Charles' invisible hand there) and mouthed words of support for his idea of an independent mutant state (if only to get him out of their hair, most likely), but that goodwill had not extended as far as actually signing over any land. The UN had passed multiple resolutions of support, but all concrete efforts to move forward had been immediately buried in committee.
This was, in fact, Magneto's last resort. While the term "getaway" didn't quite live up to the loftiness of the mutant dream, "deserted island" was much more promising. The promotional material that Magneto had skimmed had also emphasized islanders' ability to make their own lives anew in a paradise bursting with nature's bounty, and that ought to extend into the political space as well.
How did this raccoon come into possession of so many islands, anyway? thought Magneto bitterly. Didn't mutantkind have just as much right to an island as this raccoon's private company? But at least he had been willing to talk to him (again, unlike most of the delegates at the UN) and the receptionists in the lobby had appeared totally unconcerned with his checkered past as Magneto (unlike every single human politician). He really had no other choice.
"Mr. Nook? I'd like to buy an island."
Erik has just a few misconceptions about how things are going to go ...