Ma Soleil
Chapter Twenty-Three: At Vittro's
Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. This is a work of fanfiction, not an attempt to infringe on Stan Lee's personal arsenal of hotties. I can wish all I like, but Sabes is never gonna show up to collect me, and that's that. Oh, yeah, I'm making zero profit off this and if you want Beck, just ask.
As always, the lifeblood of the fanfiction author is reviews. I will respect constructive criticism, but flames are sincerely unappreciated. My e-mail address is seraph_taurus@thekeyz.com. Thanks for your time and God bless.
#-indicates thought
^-indicates telepathic conversation
XXX
Jean supported her daughter's head on her shoulder, rocking every so slightly in her armchair. Cable sat picking his teeth opposite from her, eyes glued on hers. "What is it, Nathan?" she inquired gently.
"Nothing." He shrugged. "Just thinking."
"About?"
"Read my mind," he muttered snidely.
"Don't be sarcastic, it isn't becoming."
"It's worked for me for the past fifty years."
"I'm sure it has, but I don't want Quinn picking up your bad habits." She crooned, more to the child than to Nathan. Then, she looked up sharply. "Where's your father?"
"I think he must be working. . .grading some tests or something. You want me to find him?"
"No, no I'll do it. Take Quinn, will you?" she handed the baby to him before he could protest, and strode out of the room with brisk, no-nonsense strides. She passed the lounge, the rec room, and the kitchen, where Vision and Leech were hurrying to and from the dining room with plates and pots brimming with food. "Hey, you guys." She smiled warmly.
"Hey Mrs. Summers," Leech quipped, and Artie grinned from ear-to-ear. "We've gotta set the table before Mr. Sinister gets down, otherwise he'll be hungry. He hasn't eaten since Friday!"
"Is that so?"
"Yeah!" the lanky teenager replied quickly.
"So, have you seen Mr. Summers around anywhere?"
"Yeah. Mr. Warden and Miss Starsmore were going out and he made them stop."
"What? Where are they?"
"In his office, I think." Leech glanced uncertainly at Artie, who nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, in his office."
"Thanks, Leech. I'll see you later," she patted his shoulder and headed for Scott's office, where, indeed, he was pacing nervously in front of Warden and Rebecca, every now and then shooting them evil looks. The moment Jean walked in, he stopped dead. "Hey, Scott. Are you going to join us for dinner?"
"Just a moment, Jean. I'm a little busy here."
"This is silly!" Rebecca stood up facing Jean. Her blue eyes were narrowed in vicious anger. "He says that since Chris and I are staying here for security that we have no right leaving the mansion!"
"I'm placing them under house arrest, Jean. And it only makes sense." He sighed in frustration.
"Whoa, hold on. You're placing them under WHAT?!"
"House arrest. Jean, look at it this way, they're staying with us for protection, and how are we supposed to protect them when they're off on joyrides every night?"
Warden pouted, but said nothing. "I'm sure you're being unreasonable, Scott." Jean said calmly. "They've stayed in since they've been here. I'm certain it wouldn't hurt anyone if they went out for a nice, peaceable night on the town."
"Listen to your wife, Summers," Rebecca glowered. Scott fairly hissed back. Jean and Warden rolled their eyes simultaneously, then glanced at one another, and something passed between them.
"You know what?" Jean smiled evilly, winked at Warden.
"What?" Scott's eyes widened behind his glasses. "What're you doing, Jean?"
"I think I'll take Mr. Warden out for dinner. You and Rebecca can resolve your differences while we're away. Whoever scores the most points, wins."
"What?!" Rebecca and Scott demanded.
"Let's go, Mr. Warden," Jean grinned at Rebecca's partner.
"Please, call me Chris." He offered her his arm, and they went out together, chatting pleasantly.
"NOW look at what you've done." Rebecca muttered. "You're such a bloody boneheaded arse."
"I'M boneheaded!" he shrieked. "You just. . .you just. . .I can't believe this, you're like a jinx!" he shoved his hands through his hair, and sat down heavily. "All right, if we resolve this quickly, we can catch up with them, and we can both have our dinner in peace with the people we want to be with."
"Why don't we simply see if we can catch up with them?"
"Bad idea. Jean'll read my mind."
"Oh. Of course." She sat down, folded her hands in her lap. "So what are our differences?"
"We're both too hardheaded to see things straight." He said, barely above a whisper. "THAT'S what our problem is."
"I suppose I SHOULD have paid better attention to your reasoning. I know you're only being a bastard because protocol requires it and you're concerned for Chris and my welfare."
"And you HAVE been working hard with the Professor. Guess you've earned your down-time."
"Good, now we can go after them. Any idea where they might be going?"
"The Italian place right behind the mall."
"Vittro's?"
"Yeah. God, what a creepy name."
"Shut up and let's go!" he grabbed his coat, jammed his arms into it, and realized Jean had telekinetically removed the keys to his Beamer. He glanced at Rebecca.
"I'm on it," she fished into her pocket and retrieved the keys to her Jaguar. "Come on!" she shoved him out the door and down the hall. They squeezed into the two-seater and roared off into the night. As they sped along the highway, Rebecca reached over and nipped Scott's glasses off his face, covering his eyeballs with TK shields as she did so. He started and grabbed them back, hitched them on his shirt pocket.
"Don't do that again," he pouted. "I don't like it when people touch my things."
"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "Just trying to help you see the world in its full spectrum of colour." She shrugged.
"And I appreciate it. But. . ."
"But you don't want to encourage familiarity within the ranks? I'm not an X-Man, Scott. And I thought you said we were friends."
"We. . .we are."
"And yet you seemed so eager to be rid of me a couple weeks ago."
"When?"
"When you got all red in the face at me down by Breakstone."
"Oh, God, I was hoping you'd forget about that. I was being temperamental."
"I'll say. You nearly clawed my bloody eyes out." She huffed. Scott turned red, and stared out the window. "Aren't you going to apologize?"
"Give me a second to get used to the idea that I was wrong about something," he snarled, almost jokingly, but Rebecca caught the edge on his emotion, and reached for the radio.
"What's your listening pleasure?"
"Anything," he shrugged. She tapped number three on her radio's memory dial, and a classic rock station came on. Korn blared in through the speakers, and Scott chuckled.
"God, I can't believe they still play this stuff!" he began mouthing the words to the song.
"You like them? I'm shocked."
"It's a funny story," he smiled, "Jubilee used to listen to them all the time, day and night, twenty-four seven. I always told her to turn it off, but that one time in 2018 when she did that swan dive off the Golden Gate Bridge. . .well, when she was in recovery, she was always having me play it, and of course, I did. And I sat with her through so many hours listening to them that I began to identify them with. . .well, with recovery and positive signs and. . .good stuff. Everything Jubilee is."
"Huh."
"So now, yeah. . .I guess I DO like them quite a bit." He hummed along for a few moments, then turned toward her. "I AM sorry." He said quickly. "I don't want you to think I don't want you around. It's a complication the X-Men maybe don't need, but nevertheless. . .it's nice to see a new face."
"What a compliment," she replied dryly.
"It's just that. . ."
"Don't spoil my moment," she grinned. "A Summers just APOLOGIZED to me!"
"I fail to see the humour."
"It's not funny, it's momentous." She replied, eyes dramatically wide.
"Don't fuck about, Rebecca. I really am and. . .here's the restaurant, turn left." She swerved, parked at the curb. "Go find Jean and Chris, I'll find a spot."
"All right," he stepped out, flashed her an uncharacteristically charming smile. She swerved around and parked neatly beside the Beamer, but took five extra minutes to fix her makeup and hair. When she entered Vittro's she spotted Warden, Jean, and Scott sitting together at a corner table. She headed over, and was about to sit beside her partner when he tugged her down into his lap and gave her a loud smacking kiss on he mouth.
"Hey, Becky, you're late. I was worried maybe someone kidnapped you," he winked at her look of consternation.
^What the fucking hell are you doing, you sodding pillock?^ Rebecca demanded telepathically as she settled into her own chair.
^Jean said I'm so metrosexual that if she'd seen me on the street she'd have thought I was gay.^
^You ARE gay.^
^Yeah, but I'm not out yet.^ he huffed, rolling his eyes.
"So, what're we all having?" a waitress came round with her order-pad and smiled brightly at her four customers.
"Could you possibly get me a chocolate martini?" Rebecca asked, and glanced over her menu. "And I'll have the linguine with oyster sauce."
"Becky, you're driving," Warden nudged her shoulder.
"No, YOU are." She said quickly, pressing the keys to the Jaguar into his palm.
"So have the rest of you decided, or shall I come back?"
"No, we're ready," Jean said, ordering vegetarian lasagna for herself, and grilled chicken with portabella mushrooms for Scott. Warden ordered a beef dish, and asked for another bottle of wine. The waitress disappeared, and the redheaded psionic leaned across the table toward Rebecca. "So, how has the Professor been doing? I hear you've been working him to the bone."
"For someone so disciplined and allegedly mature, he complains far more than I'd expect." Rebecca smiled. "But he's made amazing headway. I've never seen anyone quite so dedicated to any sort of recovery."
"Interesting. I'm sorry I haven't been more help. It's just with Quinn and everything. . ."
"No, I think this one-on-one training is really streamlining his consciousness into the future. He's so eager to control his power, to continue to be what your teams need."
"Maybe we shouldn't be discussing the X-Men here, Rebecca," Scott said quickly. "Sorry, it's just that this is a public place, and anyone might be listening."
"You're right," she replied. "I apologize."
They made small talk until their plates arrived, and then dug quickly into the food. "I've got to ask," Warden finally said, "What's it like to have such high-risk jobs and then suddenly become parents?"
Jean laughed, nearly choking on her food. Scott shrugged. "It's strange. I mean, you know we have what, four other children from alternate dimensions, but we've never really experienced raising a child together. . .from birth, that is. At least we don't have to worry about a college fund." He chuckled.
"And why's that?" Warden wrinkled his nose.
"Well, Harvard has a buy two get one free policy these days, since their admission fees have gone through the roof. Nathan sent himself there, but we're the same family, so there's one option, but it's highly possible that we're just going to have her attend Xavier. She has a very strong X-gene, or so both Hank and. . .Dr. Essex say."
"Natty's got to be right," Rebecca said. "He isolated mine before I was three years old, and with the leaps and bounds technology has made in the past thirty years, there's practically no limit to what you can detect as early as a month into the pregnancy."
"Really?" Jean leant on her elbows, stabbed her fork at the other woman to punctuate her sentence. "I always wondered about that. So how early DID Essex. . .pick you up?"
"I was about two and a half when he took me from my parents. And Jono, of course." She shrugged.
"And you left him when you married Creed?" Scott said, "At sixteen?"
"That's right." She glanced at Jean, who looked mildly uncomfortable. "So what're your plans, then? Are you taking a sabbatical or what?"
"From work? Oh, definitely. I think I'll just retire early. Or something. I don't want to put myself in that kind of danger anymore. For Quinn, you know. What about your plans, Rebecca? I mean, you're getting into your early to mid-thirties. By the time I was your age, we'd been married for close to five years." She smiled at her husband.
"Well, I already did the marriage thing, and it didn't really work for me."
"You were married to Creed. He's not exactly Prince Charming."
"If you'd believe it, I'd tell you that he was a great husband in most ways. He was always quite affectionate, and careful of my feelings. He's never been a chauvinist, so I certainly wasn't repressed. It would've been a wonderful relationship, I've no doubt, had I not been so young, and had he done a little more romancing before we made it official."
"I can imagine," Jean rolled her eyes. "So you're sort of coasting along?"
"I suppose. Our business," she touched Warden's arm, "is doing very well, and we've already considerable nest eggs saved up. If we wanted, we could retire and bask on Caribbean beaches for the rest of our lives, but we're. . ."
"Too much in love with adrenaline," Warden supplied.
"Exactly. Absolute adrenaline junkies. And we like the business, it affords us good financial security to have our names constantly popping up in Merc's Quarterly."
"Are you serious?" Scott snorted derisively. "There's a tri-monthly magazine for mercenaries?"
"Oh, yeah! You can pick it up at any of the Hubs. They're a couple hundred apiece, but oh, the classifieds!" Warden sighed.
"You're such a bloody tech-nerd," his partner sighed. "They sell old pieces of decimated robots and the like for a pittance, and he seems to think that by shelling out three hundred dollars for a fifty-page newsletter he's saving anything."
"I just happen to BE saving us quite the sum!" Warden sniffed haughtily. Rebecca giggled, sipped her drink.
"Well, at least you know we have a good co-op relationship."
Jean and Scott exchanged terrified looks. "If this is what you define 'co-operative,' I don't want to know what enemies are like."
XXX
Chapter Twenty-Three: At Vittro's
Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. This is a work of fanfiction, not an attempt to infringe on Stan Lee's personal arsenal of hotties. I can wish all I like, but Sabes is never gonna show up to collect me, and that's that. Oh, yeah, I'm making zero profit off this and if you want Beck, just ask.
As always, the lifeblood of the fanfiction author is reviews. I will respect constructive criticism, but flames are sincerely unappreciated. My e-mail address is seraph_taurus@thekeyz.com. Thanks for your time and God bless.
#-indicates thought
^-indicates telepathic conversation
XXX
Jean supported her daughter's head on her shoulder, rocking every so slightly in her armchair. Cable sat picking his teeth opposite from her, eyes glued on hers. "What is it, Nathan?" she inquired gently.
"Nothing." He shrugged. "Just thinking."
"About?"
"Read my mind," he muttered snidely.
"Don't be sarcastic, it isn't becoming."
"It's worked for me for the past fifty years."
"I'm sure it has, but I don't want Quinn picking up your bad habits." She crooned, more to the child than to Nathan. Then, she looked up sharply. "Where's your father?"
"I think he must be working. . .grading some tests or something. You want me to find him?"
"No, no I'll do it. Take Quinn, will you?" she handed the baby to him before he could protest, and strode out of the room with brisk, no-nonsense strides. She passed the lounge, the rec room, and the kitchen, where Vision and Leech were hurrying to and from the dining room with plates and pots brimming with food. "Hey, you guys." She smiled warmly.
"Hey Mrs. Summers," Leech quipped, and Artie grinned from ear-to-ear. "We've gotta set the table before Mr. Sinister gets down, otherwise he'll be hungry. He hasn't eaten since Friday!"
"Is that so?"
"Yeah!" the lanky teenager replied quickly.
"So, have you seen Mr. Summers around anywhere?"
"Yeah. Mr. Warden and Miss Starsmore were going out and he made them stop."
"What? Where are they?"
"In his office, I think." Leech glanced uncertainly at Artie, who nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, in his office."
"Thanks, Leech. I'll see you later," she patted his shoulder and headed for Scott's office, where, indeed, he was pacing nervously in front of Warden and Rebecca, every now and then shooting them evil looks. The moment Jean walked in, he stopped dead. "Hey, Scott. Are you going to join us for dinner?"
"Just a moment, Jean. I'm a little busy here."
"This is silly!" Rebecca stood up facing Jean. Her blue eyes were narrowed in vicious anger. "He says that since Chris and I are staying here for security that we have no right leaving the mansion!"
"I'm placing them under house arrest, Jean. And it only makes sense." He sighed in frustration.
"Whoa, hold on. You're placing them under WHAT?!"
"House arrest. Jean, look at it this way, they're staying with us for protection, and how are we supposed to protect them when they're off on joyrides every night?"
Warden pouted, but said nothing. "I'm sure you're being unreasonable, Scott." Jean said calmly. "They've stayed in since they've been here. I'm certain it wouldn't hurt anyone if they went out for a nice, peaceable night on the town."
"Listen to your wife, Summers," Rebecca glowered. Scott fairly hissed back. Jean and Warden rolled their eyes simultaneously, then glanced at one another, and something passed between them.
"You know what?" Jean smiled evilly, winked at Warden.
"What?" Scott's eyes widened behind his glasses. "What're you doing, Jean?"
"I think I'll take Mr. Warden out for dinner. You and Rebecca can resolve your differences while we're away. Whoever scores the most points, wins."
"What?!" Rebecca and Scott demanded.
"Let's go, Mr. Warden," Jean grinned at Rebecca's partner.
"Please, call me Chris." He offered her his arm, and they went out together, chatting pleasantly.
"NOW look at what you've done." Rebecca muttered. "You're such a bloody boneheaded arse."
"I'M boneheaded!" he shrieked. "You just. . .you just. . .I can't believe this, you're like a jinx!" he shoved his hands through his hair, and sat down heavily. "All right, if we resolve this quickly, we can catch up with them, and we can both have our dinner in peace with the people we want to be with."
"Why don't we simply see if we can catch up with them?"
"Bad idea. Jean'll read my mind."
"Oh. Of course." She sat down, folded her hands in her lap. "So what are our differences?"
"We're both too hardheaded to see things straight." He said, barely above a whisper. "THAT'S what our problem is."
"I suppose I SHOULD have paid better attention to your reasoning. I know you're only being a bastard because protocol requires it and you're concerned for Chris and my welfare."
"And you HAVE been working hard with the Professor. Guess you've earned your down-time."
"Good, now we can go after them. Any idea where they might be going?"
"The Italian place right behind the mall."
"Vittro's?"
"Yeah. God, what a creepy name."
"Shut up and let's go!" he grabbed his coat, jammed his arms into it, and realized Jean had telekinetically removed the keys to his Beamer. He glanced at Rebecca.
"I'm on it," she fished into her pocket and retrieved the keys to her Jaguar. "Come on!" she shoved him out the door and down the hall. They squeezed into the two-seater and roared off into the night. As they sped along the highway, Rebecca reached over and nipped Scott's glasses off his face, covering his eyeballs with TK shields as she did so. He started and grabbed them back, hitched them on his shirt pocket.
"Don't do that again," he pouted. "I don't like it when people touch my things."
"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "Just trying to help you see the world in its full spectrum of colour." She shrugged.
"And I appreciate it. But. . ."
"But you don't want to encourage familiarity within the ranks? I'm not an X-Man, Scott. And I thought you said we were friends."
"We. . .we are."
"And yet you seemed so eager to be rid of me a couple weeks ago."
"When?"
"When you got all red in the face at me down by Breakstone."
"Oh, God, I was hoping you'd forget about that. I was being temperamental."
"I'll say. You nearly clawed my bloody eyes out." She huffed. Scott turned red, and stared out the window. "Aren't you going to apologize?"
"Give me a second to get used to the idea that I was wrong about something," he snarled, almost jokingly, but Rebecca caught the edge on his emotion, and reached for the radio.
"What's your listening pleasure?"
"Anything," he shrugged. She tapped number three on her radio's memory dial, and a classic rock station came on. Korn blared in through the speakers, and Scott chuckled.
"God, I can't believe they still play this stuff!" he began mouthing the words to the song.
"You like them? I'm shocked."
"It's a funny story," he smiled, "Jubilee used to listen to them all the time, day and night, twenty-four seven. I always told her to turn it off, but that one time in 2018 when she did that swan dive off the Golden Gate Bridge. . .well, when she was in recovery, she was always having me play it, and of course, I did. And I sat with her through so many hours listening to them that I began to identify them with. . .well, with recovery and positive signs and. . .good stuff. Everything Jubilee is."
"Huh."
"So now, yeah. . .I guess I DO like them quite a bit." He hummed along for a few moments, then turned toward her. "I AM sorry." He said quickly. "I don't want you to think I don't want you around. It's a complication the X-Men maybe don't need, but nevertheless. . .it's nice to see a new face."
"What a compliment," she replied dryly.
"It's just that. . ."
"Don't spoil my moment," she grinned. "A Summers just APOLOGIZED to me!"
"I fail to see the humour."
"It's not funny, it's momentous." She replied, eyes dramatically wide.
"Don't fuck about, Rebecca. I really am and. . .here's the restaurant, turn left." She swerved, parked at the curb. "Go find Jean and Chris, I'll find a spot."
"All right," he stepped out, flashed her an uncharacteristically charming smile. She swerved around and parked neatly beside the Beamer, but took five extra minutes to fix her makeup and hair. When she entered Vittro's she spotted Warden, Jean, and Scott sitting together at a corner table. She headed over, and was about to sit beside her partner when he tugged her down into his lap and gave her a loud smacking kiss on he mouth.
"Hey, Becky, you're late. I was worried maybe someone kidnapped you," he winked at her look of consternation.
^What the fucking hell are you doing, you sodding pillock?^ Rebecca demanded telepathically as she settled into her own chair.
^Jean said I'm so metrosexual that if she'd seen me on the street she'd have thought I was gay.^
^You ARE gay.^
^Yeah, but I'm not out yet.^ he huffed, rolling his eyes.
"So, what're we all having?" a waitress came round with her order-pad and smiled brightly at her four customers.
"Could you possibly get me a chocolate martini?" Rebecca asked, and glanced over her menu. "And I'll have the linguine with oyster sauce."
"Becky, you're driving," Warden nudged her shoulder.
"No, YOU are." She said quickly, pressing the keys to the Jaguar into his palm.
"So have the rest of you decided, or shall I come back?"
"No, we're ready," Jean said, ordering vegetarian lasagna for herself, and grilled chicken with portabella mushrooms for Scott. Warden ordered a beef dish, and asked for another bottle of wine. The waitress disappeared, and the redheaded psionic leaned across the table toward Rebecca. "So, how has the Professor been doing? I hear you've been working him to the bone."
"For someone so disciplined and allegedly mature, he complains far more than I'd expect." Rebecca smiled. "But he's made amazing headway. I've never seen anyone quite so dedicated to any sort of recovery."
"Interesting. I'm sorry I haven't been more help. It's just with Quinn and everything. . ."
"No, I think this one-on-one training is really streamlining his consciousness into the future. He's so eager to control his power, to continue to be what your teams need."
"Maybe we shouldn't be discussing the X-Men here, Rebecca," Scott said quickly. "Sorry, it's just that this is a public place, and anyone might be listening."
"You're right," she replied. "I apologize."
They made small talk until their plates arrived, and then dug quickly into the food. "I've got to ask," Warden finally said, "What's it like to have such high-risk jobs and then suddenly become parents?"
Jean laughed, nearly choking on her food. Scott shrugged. "It's strange. I mean, you know we have what, four other children from alternate dimensions, but we've never really experienced raising a child together. . .from birth, that is. At least we don't have to worry about a college fund." He chuckled.
"And why's that?" Warden wrinkled his nose.
"Well, Harvard has a buy two get one free policy these days, since their admission fees have gone through the roof. Nathan sent himself there, but we're the same family, so there's one option, but it's highly possible that we're just going to have her attend Xavier. She has a very strong X-gene, or so both Hank and. . .Dr. Essex say."
"Natty's got to be right," Rebecca said. "He isolated mine before I was three years old, and with the leaps and bounds technology has made in the past thirty years, there's practically no limit to what you can detect as early as a month into the pregnancy."
"Really?" Jean leant on her elbows, stabbed her fork at the other woman to punctuate her sentence. "I always wondered about that. So how early DID Essex. . .pick you up?"
"I was about two and a half when he took me from my parents. And Jono, of course." She shrugged.
"And you left him when you married Creed?" Scott said, "At sixteen?"
"That's right." She glanced at Jean, who looked mildly uncomfortable. "So what're your plans, then? Are you taking a sabbatical or what?"
"From work? Oh, definitely. I think I'll just retire early. Or something. I don't want to put myself in that kind of danger anymore. For Quinn, you know. What about your plans, Rebecca? I mean, you're getting into your early to mid-thirties. By the time I was your age, we'd been married for close to five years." She smiled at her husband.
"Well, I already did the marriage thing, and it didn't really work for me."
"You were married to Creed. He's not exactly Prince Charming."
"If you'd believe it, I'd tell you that he was a great husband in most ways. He was always quite affectionate, and careful of my feelings. He's never been a chauvinist, so I certainly wasn't repressed. It would've been a wonderful relationship, I've no doubt, had I not been so young, and had he done a little more romancing before we made it official."
"I can imagine," Jean rolled her eyes. "So you're sort of coasting along?"
"I suppose. Our business," she touched Warden's arm, "is doing very well, and we've already considerable nest eggs saved up. If we wanted, we could retire and bask on Caribbean beaches for the rest of our lives, but we're. . ."
"Too much in love with adrenaline," Warden supplied.
"Exactly. Absolute adrenaline junkies. And we like the business, it affords us good financial security to have our names constantly popping up in Merc's Quarterly."
"Are you serious?" Scott snorted derisively. "There's a tri-monthly magazine for mercenaries?"
"Oh, yeah! You can pick it up at any of the Hubs. They're a couple hundred apiece, but oh, the classifieds!" Warden sighed.
"You're such a bloody tech-nerd," his partner sighed. "They sell old pieces of decimated robots and the like for a pittance, and he seems to think that by shelling out three hundred dollars for a fifty-page newsletter he's saving anything."
"I just happen to BE saving us quite the sum!" Warden sniffed haughtily. Rebecca giggled, sipped her drink.
"Well, at least you know we have a good co-op relationship."
Jean and Scott exchanged terrified looks. "If this is what you define 'co-operative,' I don't want to know what enemies are like."
XXX