Disclaimer: I am a frog.

Note: It gets a bit gruesome soon, perhaps this chapter or the next, with the … well, you'll see. Anyway. I'm not writing accents today.

-------o(O)o-------

Pietro was in the worst mood possible, which was saying something. His brows were constantly furrowed and his mouth was creased in a unvarying pout. His mind had not registered anything but the girl on the street, the one who had danced with him for no reason and without music. The beautiful girl with her shining, fiery hair and sparkling eyes and the nose dusted with freckles. She seemed to be older than him, but not too much, dispite her child he had seen in the park. Anyway, he could be jumping to conclusions - perhaps it wasn't her child. Perhaps she was babysitting for her older sister, or something.

The man with her, the one with the Scott-wannabe glasses and the long coat, he was obviously attached to her. The way they were around each other, he could guess at their relationship which made him bitter and angry at fate. He wanted her for himself, he knew that much. A jealous, possessive streak had begun to run through his veins and he had no intention of stopping it.

In his mind, he already thought of her as his. He planned out their long and happy life together, starting with a dashing seduction, followed by a beautiful white wedding in a church somewhere, many healthy children and a little cottage with a garden full of plants. He had no idea where these decisions had come from, all he knew was that should he have her, they would be eternally joyous.

Now the problem was getting her.

------o(O)o------

"You really shouldn't wear that in this weather," commented Remy, surveying the window. It was quite obviously pouring with heavy rain. "You'll die of cold."

Siannagh spun around in the mirror with a shake of her head. She wore thin translucent tights with rainbow stripes that disappeared under her just-above-knee-length denim skirt. Her t-shirt, the same blue as the hair band that held her wild hair out of her face, had a large peace sign in red. Her arms were bare except for seven bangles on one arm; one for each colour of the rainbow. The first thing someone would think upon seeing her would be 'eccentric', which of course puts her into a nicely fitting category.

"We going?" she asked, tying the laces of her black Dr Marten shoes. He nodded; she grinned. "I've been looking forward to this for, well, hours!"

"We only decided we were going to the park ten minutes ago."

"I was excited from the suspense of surprise, then."

He rolled his eyes as she took a hold of his hand. He glanced down and saw her nails were finally growing longer (she had the bad habit of biting them) and were painted in glittery silver polish. They thanked Kurt quickly for agreeing to look after Salla for a couple of hours and left.

------o(O)o------

At the same time, almost to the minute, Pietro left his own abode for some fresh air. A little voice suggested the park, as that was the home of the freshest air in the immediate area, and he agreed with it for the small possibility of seeing that strange girl again. He huddled into a coat to protect himself from the pouring rain and made his way there.

------o(O)o------

"Oh, but it's empty!" cried Siannagh upon reaching the park. She flopped into a little puddle on the bench, not caring in the slightest about the damp, and sighed. "I wanted there to be people. People are good."

"Yeah, good, right," he laughed. "People are also not stupid. It's chucking it down. This weather's only good for ducks."

"And mutants who can control water," she smirked. Immediately, she was dry, as was the bench around her. The water that had been on her formed a little lake in the grass nearby. "There. Better."

The rain now seemed to completely ignore the patch of world around Siannagh and the bench, and Remy quickly realised that if he wanted to stay dry the best thing to do would be to sit down on the aforementioned bench. He did, and she snuggled up to him with her head on his shoulder and her arms around his chest. He smiled, and rested his own head upon hers.

Pietro took that moment to walk into the park. He was soaking, but through the downpour he could see the girl who had been invading his sanity seated in an embrace clearly full of love with the man he had seen her with before. There was no child. A feirce anger shuddered through his body, so overwhelming that he had to struggle to keep on his feet. He watched as the couple claimed a kiss, a kiss that to him felt like a stab wound in his stomach. His vision clouded further than before from not just the rain, but angry, salty tears that he wiped away immediately. He pushed down the fury as best he could but another kiss was just too much for him; in an instant, he was beside them.

"What do you think you're doing?" demanded Remy, standing up instantly. Siannagh watched with almost disinterest. "Get away from us!"

For a second or two, Pietro just glared at him, then quicker than a blink of an eye he had Siannagh in his arms. She yelped, and struggled, but his grip was firm. Remy lunged forwards to claim her back but in vain; his eyes only registered one movement, and that was of a white haired boy carrying a gob smacked and terrified girl out of the park in the opposite direction to which Remy arrived.

A cold, icy dread flooded over him as he was left standing alone, the rain finally returning to his area.

"Merde," he muttered, deciding that rather than following the boy who was already far out of sight, he would return to the mansion for help.