A/N: Hello, dear readers. Welcome to the next chapter of my story. Again I'd like to thank my reviewers. You complete me. (No idea why that came to mind.) The size of my chapters has been called my attention and I'd just like to point a few things out which I would like all of you to keep in mind.

1. I update multiple times a day because I'm a loser and have no homework

2. I wake up at 5 AM on weekdays so I can get at least one chapter done before I leave for school.

3. It takes a long time to write long chapters.

So in short, the length of my chapters will fluctuate but I'll try to keep them long. Now, ON WITH THE STORY!!!

Oh yeah, there might be some inappropriate language (in other words fuck... maybe some others) to go along with Toad's... uh... mannerisms.

The white ceiling had cracks. Damia turned her head and thought about this. It was odd that a metal room, designed to look like a hotel room, would have cracks in the ceiling. Perhaps they did it to make it look more like an ordinary room.

Damia squinted at the lumpy paint. Maybe if she stared at it long enough a hole would appear and she could escape. Or if she had any luck, a misshapen figure of an animal would show up. After shifting a little to right she could see it, a little pig was looking back at her... or maybe it was a frog.

As she pondered this the door to her room opened and closed, Damia didn't bother looking up. She recognized the almost inaudible footsteps immediately. They were the ones she longed to hear, possibly more than the rushed thudding noises the X-men would make if they were to save her.

"Hello, Toad," Damia said as she kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling. "What brings you to my charming prison resort?"

She was aware of him looking at her as he spoke. "I brought you food," was all he grumbled in that cute British accent. Not Cute! she quickly corrected herself.

Sitting up and sliding off the uncomfortable bed, Damia crossed the room and looked at the tray Toad had brought. There was a huge slab of what looked like uncooked meat with a side of something soupy and mushy vegetables. Suddenly Damia wasn't hungry anymore.

"Uh... I'm not hungry." Damia flopped back onto her bed and began to study her ceiling once more. Great, you're already weakening from not being outside and now you won't eat. Nice. Smooth move X-lax.

Toad was about to leave when she had made the comment, he stopped and turned to her. "What, you don't like my cooking," he asked, sounding a little miffed.

Cooking? Yeah, right! Damia was on the verge of speaking her mind when she thought better of it. "Toad?"

His anger evaporated at the sound of her voice saying his name but it soon returned full force. What in the bloody hell is wrong with me? She's with the bloomin' X-men... not to mention she's a sarky bugger.

"Come here, please," Damia said. Her eyes never moved from the cracks on the ceiling and she remained completely oblivious to what was running through Toad's head at the moment.

He blinked a few times. She had just asked him to approach while she was laying on a bed. Toad was having a hard time believing it. No female of any species had ever touched him without flinching, the exception lying before him. Now he had a new thing to add to the list firsts. Slowly he moved towards her, barely keeping his body from shaking.

When Toad stood next her bed Damia finally looked at him. For a moment she lost her train of thought because the first thing she saw were his black eyeswatching her closely, almost nervously. She could drown in those eyes. Damia snapped out of it quickly and she suddenly felt the same nervousness as Toad when she realized the situation.

Damia turned away while asking, "Do those cracks look like a pig or a frog?"

His gaze turned up to the ceiling and he began to inspect them. As he looked up Toad could swear he could feel her eyes on him. A lump began to rise in his throat and he cursed himself for this sensation. Glancing down Toad caught her eyes shift back to the ceiling above her. Jesus suffering fuck! She's going to do in my head.

Damia kept her eyes intently on the lumpy white paint. Why the hell was I looking at him!? Oh, no. There's that feeling again. As Damia stared at the ceiling the feeling of being stared atwashed over her like a flashflood. Toad was fixedly watching her, subconsciously memorizing every curve and contour of her face. As he studied her a thought came to mind, she looked a little paler than she had yesterday. The thought faded as his blackish eyes rested on her lips.

"It's a pig," Toad said abruptly before hurriedly leaving the room. He needed to get away from her or his sanity would go down the drain completely.

There was something very wrong with him. Every waking moment was spent thinking about the young prisoner, she even visited him in his dreams. Whenever he found himself in the same room as her, his stomach would do acrobatics. Each time her voice reached his ears it was as if he were floating on a cloud of music. This is bullshit, Toad thought as he slumped against the wall opposite of Damia's door. He wasn't quite ready to leave her presence entirely so he sat on the floor and thought. Maybe I... No! No, I couldn't. I'm a villain I can't feel... I can't feel that. Can I? Toad's eyes fell on the door across from him. He shook his head. Even if I did she probably doesn't.