Proudcanadian--- I'm awfully glad I made you happy!
Everybody else:---Thank you for reviewing! You all get a...umm...a....
Kate: Papaya!
BobbyD12: Right! For reviewing, everyone gets a papaya. (Hands out papyas) ;)
Later that day Bobby came waltzing into the room Rogue and Anna shared together. Anna was lying on her bed reading The Three Musketeers and Rogue was surfing the Internet on her laptop. Rogue looked away from the computer screen for an instant to smile at her boyfriend. Anna was too engrossed in 15th century France to pay attention to him.
"Guess what?" he asked, his blue eyes dancing.
"Go 'way. Anna grunted.
"What?" Rogue asked, gamely.
Bobby pulled an envelope out of his pocket and waved it in front of her face. "This is what, my southern belle!"
"An envelope," Rogue stated, calmly. "Whoopee."
"Could you two keep it down?" Anna asked breathlessly, looking up from her book with an excited face. "D'Artagnan is trying to get to Constance in time to stop her from drinking poison!"
"Come on, Anna. You've read that book four times already!" Bobby groaned.
An impatient "Shh" was the only reply.
"What's so exciting about an envelope?" Rogue asked, not really because she cared, but because she knew Bobby wouldn't be satisfied until he had told her.
"It's what's in the envelope, my dear," Bobby said mysteriously.
"Oh my gosh!" Anna shrieked from her bed. "I can't believe they killed her!"
Bobby wisely ignored her and handed Rogue the envelope. "Look at what it is," he commanded, practically jumping out of his skin with excitement.
Rogue took the envelope and laughed at him. "Really Bobby, you're like a little kid!" She opened the envelope, saw what was inside, and Bobby had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes get big.
"Are these for us?" she whispered.
"You, me, and the nervous wreck on the bed," Bobby answered, pitching the last part towards Anna. It was a waste of effort though, because she was lying with her hands clenched around her book and unshed tears in her eyes, lost in her own imagination.
"Don't bother," Rogue advised. "Trust me, I've tried before. Nothing short of an earthquake will get her out of there."
Bobby gave her a superior look and walked over to Anna with a "watch this."
He bent down and whispered a sentence in her ear. Instantly, Anna was back in the present.
"Are you serious?" she almost shouted.
"Quite," Bobby said, being calm in his turn. He took the envelope from Rogue and handed it to Anna. "Look in there."
She grabbed the envelope, stared at the contents eagerly, and let out a happy whoop. For there, quite oblivious to the excitement they were creating, lay three plane tickets marked with the destination Paris.
Bobby grinned at his girlfriend and repeated what he had said to Anna. "Let's go visit Kate and John."
Kate was frazzled. She was in a grocery store in Paris, trying to buy food necessary for making meals for John and her. Unfortunately, she had not the slightest idea what that necessary food was.
"Dinner, dinner, what do people do for dinner?" she muttered to herself as she walked through the isles, scanning the shelves. It had been her idea to make dinner at the hotel that night. John would have been fine to eat out...again, but Kate was getting sick of living on restaurant food. The only problem was that she didn't know how to cook much. In fact, she didn't know how to cook at all.
"Maybe I should make spaghetti," she said to herself. She stood in the middle of the isle to ponder the idea, while several Frenchwomen looked strangely at her. "Yes, I think spaghetti is a good idea," she announced to the bag of flour directly in front of her. "How hard can it be?"
Accordingly, Kate piled two boxes of spaghetti, four cans of sauce, and a head of lettuce for salad into her arms. That, coupled with ice cream, potato chips, a bag of chocolate kisses, ice cream cones, and a bottle of Mountain Dew, made her wish she had brought a shopping cart with her. None the less, she wobbled away to the checkout, congratulating herself on the way.
"Good job, Kate! This is going to make a fine meal. One box of spaghetti for you and one for John. Then you can tear up the lettuce, toss it in a big bowl, and tada! A perfect dinner."
She was still chunnering to herself when she walked out of the isle towards the checkout. Perhaps that is the reason for what happened next. It could also have been due to the fact that she could hardly see past the mountain of food in her hands. Of course, the blame could lie on the opposite party as well. Anyway, whatever the cause, Kate felt something heavy and solid crash into her side, causing her to loose her balance, throw the food in her arms into the air, and fall flat on her rump.
"That wasn't my fault!" Kate shouted in French, rubbing her behind. "For once!"
"Are you alright?" A young Frenchman stood in front of her, looking so guilty that Kate decided he had something to do with her disaster.
"Did you just bump into me?" Kate asked in French.
The young man nodded sheepishly. "I'm sorry." He dropped down on his hands and knees to help pick up the scattered groceries. He and Kate both leaned forward to pick up the bag of potato chips at the same moment and their head collided with a painful thump.
Kate clasped her head with both hands and glared at her attacker. "Stay there. Just stay there. Don't move, please. Every time you move you end up hurting me."
"I'm sorry!" the young man groaned. "I'm such a klutz!"
"Yes, you are," Kate agreed.
The young man rubbed his own head and started to gather the food again. "You stay where you are. I'll clean this up for you."
Kate did as she was told and sat rubbing her head while observing the young man. He was tall, probably taller than John, with the same dark hair and eyes, and the same age. But unlike John he seemed friendly, good natured, and eager to help her. He stubbed one of his toes on a candy display nearby and uttered a very American...expression.
"Do you speak English?" Kate asked, curiously.
"Do you?" the young man asked, turning to look at her with a smile.
"I asked you first," Kate reminded.
"I asked you second."
"But I'm a lady."
"I'm a gentleman."
"I was the one who got attacked by you!"
"You knocked me down as well," he pointed out.
"Fine, do whatever you want," Kate muttered, standing up slowly.
"Thank you," he said, still on the floor gathering food. "And I want to answer your question. Yes, I do speak English."
Kate's lips curved up in a smile at the young man's cheekiness. "And I do as well."
"Well, now that we have that out of the way, let's introduce ourselves. I'm Marc."
"I'm Kate." Marc held out a hand and Kate shook it warmly. Between them they carried Kate's groceries to the checkout. While they were waiting in line Marc commented, "It looks like you're planning quite a get-together."
"Oh no," Kate explained, "It's just me and a friend who was too lazy to come with me to the store. He's going to be in big trouble when I get back."
Marc looked at her keenly. "The young lady's boyfriend is not very attentive."
Kate laughed. "He's not a boyfriend," she paused. "Well, he's a boy and he's a friend...but he's not a boyfriend. If you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," Marc said. He glanced at the two boxes of spaghetti. "You must not like to shop often."
Kate shrugged. "We're going to use the spaghetti up tonight, so I'll probably be back here by the end of the week."
"In one night?" Marc's amazement was plain.
"What's wrong with that?" Kate asked, a trifle annoyed. "It's just one box each!"
Marc threw back his head and laughed. Kate liked his laugh.
"What's so funny?" she demanded. Nice or not, she didn't like people laughing at her.
"Nothing," Marc spluttered. "Only you're going to be awfully full at the end of the night."
"Really?" Kate asked, in honest confusion.
Marc stopped laughing and looked at her kindly. "You don't really know what you're doing, do you?" he asked.
"Is it that obvious?" Kate asked forlornly.
"Yes," Marc confirmed. "Tell you what. How about you and your friend that's a boy come to dinner with me, my treat?"
Kate looked at him skeptically, waiting for him to laugh at her again. But when he didn't she saw that he was perfectly serious.
"It will be fun," he urged. "I know this great café on Tours Street that serves the best food in Paris."
Kate hesitated. "It would be fun, I guess," she admitted. She also knew that café.
"Great." Marc beamed at her and deposited her purchases on the checkout counter. "Do you have any paper to write down the address on?" he asked, after a search of his pockets proved vain.
Wordlessly, Kate offered him her hand, palm up. He grinned and wrote down "785 Tours Street, 7:00."
"I've got to go now," he told Kate after he was finished. "I'll see you and your friend this evening."
Kate thanked him, and he walked away. Right before he went out the door, he called back, "One more thing!"
Kate waved to show that she was listening.
"Don't wash that hand!" Then he was gone.
"We're going where for dinner?" John's amazement was plain.
Kate and John were in the small kitchen that their hotel offered for customer use. John was sitting on the countertop swinging his legs idly while Kate put the food she had bought in a cupboard.
"To that café on Tours Street," Kate replied, tossing her friend the bag of potato chips. "You know where it is."
"Yeah..." John said, still amazed. "But I still don't get how you can walk into a grocery store and walk out with a dinner invite!"
Kate looked up from sorting her groceries. "What's wrong with that?" she asked, her voice daring John to argue with her.
He shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. It's just funny, that's all."
"It is funny." Kate agreed, putting her head inside a cupboard to see if it was empty. "We're going, right?"
"Why ask me?" John questioned. "You're the one who was invited."
Kate poked her head out of the cupboard with a shocked expression. "John Allerdyce! You didn't seriously think I'd go without you, did you?"
"One can always hope..." John drawled and ducked as Kate threw the bag a chocolate at him.
"I am not meeting a strange guy for dinner, in the middle of Paris, by myself!" Kate declared.
"What about me? You eat out with me every day."
"You're different," Kate sniffed.
"I am?" John asked, surprised. "Cool."
Kate rolled her eyes. "Just go and get ready to leave."
John wagged a finger in her face. "Don't tell me what to do, young lady, or you'll find yourself without an escort!" Then he jumped off the countertop and stalked out of the room, the picture of offended dignity. Kate giggled and went back to putting away food.
Kate soon finished, then she walked up to her room to read a comic book. She was engrossed in it until she looked at the clock. It read 6:45.
"Ah! I can't believe it!" she shouted and threw the comic book away with a murderous glace, as if it had caused her trouble. She threw on one of her favorite shirts. A short sleeved blue one with the words "I've lost my marbles, can you help me find them?" printed on it. She opened her door and sprang out into the hallway. "JOHN! We're late!" she shouted and winced as several heads poked out of several doorways inquiringly.
"Huh?" came anot too encouraging grunt from behind the door.
"We're late!" Kate repeated, just as loud. "Hurry up!"
"I'm coming," John grumbled.
Kate paced in front of his door impatiently, pausing every once and awhile to bang on it. Finally, after five minutes (which Kate thought an absurdly long time) John came out attired in a plain red shirt and jeans.
"Great, let's go!" Kate said and ran off down the hallway. John followed that a leisurely pace, looking as if he didn't care who he made late, which was, in fact, the truth. He caught up with Kate outside the hotel.
"What are you doing?" he asked, as she started walking rapidly down the sidewalk.
She gave him a strange look. "Walking to the café. We don't have a car, remember?"
John gave her a pitying look and started walking down the street in the opposite direction. "Come here, I want to show you something," he called.
Kate growled her frustration to the sky and followed him. She found him seated on the back of a red sports motorcycle, calmly buckling on a black helmet.
"Will you quit fooling around, John?" she snapped. "I don't want to be later then I have to be!"
"I'm not fooling around, we're going to take this bike," he answered.
"It's not yours!" Kate argued.
To her astonishment John produced a key that he put in the ignition. He sat looking expectantly up at her.
"But...you didn't have this yesterday!" Kate faltered.
"True," John agreed. "But this whole mission is funded by Magneto, including transportation." He looked at her with lips that might have been smiling, but the helmet was blocking her view of his face. He handed her a red helmet with a reflective visor. "Get it?"
Kate grinned at him, buckled on the helmet and plopped herself down behind him. "Got it."
"Good." With that, John pulled down his own visor, started the engine, and they zoomed off down the Paris street.
Marc had just placed himself at a table in the caf's outdoor patio. He leaned back, enjoying the soft summer air. He wondered if his dinner dates would show up. "Probably not," he told himself, as he had done at least twenty times that evening. But still, there as just a chance that they might come and Marc grasped that chance. He wanted to see the pretty girl American again.
Marc waited for ten minutes, and was just beginning to call himself a fool when the roar of an engine cut in on his thoughts. He looked to see a red motorcycle scream down the road and stop directly in front of the café. Two figures hopped off nimbly. One of them was laughing while trying to unbuckle the red helmet. Marc heard a girlish voice speaking English, which he could understand.
"You must have every policeman in Paris tailing after you, you speed demon!" Kate laughed, not sounded too upset.
"Hey, you said you wanted to be here on time," the boy replied.
"Uh huh," she responded vaguely, tugging at her helmet. "Uh, John, can you help me with this?"
The boy pulled off his own helmet and stood looking his friend. "Come on, surely you can get a stupid helmet off!"
Kate shook her head and the boy started walking towards the caf's entrance, calling over his shoulder, "Well, you should be able to and I'm not doing it for you."
Marc stifled a laugh as the girl trailed her friend, complaining under her breath. As the pair walked into the café patio the helmeted head turned in his direction and the girl waved at him. "Hey, Marc!" she called in French. "I'm glad you're here."
"Likewise," he said as Kate and John approached the table he sat at. "Sit down," he invited, waving his hand at two lawn chairs, "these have your names on them."
Kate sat down and John followed suit. He turned to her and remarked, "Kate, could we speak English for once?"
"Sure," Marc said, easily slipping into his accented English.
John looked a little surprised, but, "Oh, ok" was his only comment.
Kate flipped up the visor on her helmet and tugged at the straps again. As she did so she made introductions. "Marc, this is John," she informed, pointing at the figure sprawled in his chair. "John, this is Marc." She turned to John with a threatening expression. "And you will like him."
Marc reached out a hand genially. "So this is the 'friend that's a boy,' eh?"
John merely raised his eyebrows.
Marc shrugged and unconcernedly picked up his menu, a fact that earned him points in Kate's reckoning. Anyone who wasn't upset by John's thorniness was on the high road to her favor. Kate also picked up her menu with one hand, pulling on the helmet strap with the other. After a minute she dropped it again, worked feverishly at the strap with both hands, then gave up, shooting John a dirty glance.
"Do you need some help over there?" Marc questioned, grinning at her futile efforts.
Kate looked at him gratefully. "Yeah. I can't get this and someone refused to help me." She looked at John suggestively.
Marc nodded. "So I heard. Here, let me..."
He was interrupted by John breaking suddenly into the conversation. "Kate, do you need help with that strap?"
Kate turned towards him and said in puzzled voice. "Yes. I was just telling Marc..."
"It's easily fixed," John smoothly interrupted again. "Watch." His fingers went under her chin and undid the straps in a twinkling. He pulled the helmet off her head despite Kate's squeak of protest as it caught her ear along the way, and set it on the ground by his chair. "See?"
Kate rubbed her ear. "I see," she grumbled.
And I'm beginning to, Marc thought. Aloud he sought to make polite conversation. "What brings you two to Paris, John?"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth Marc saw he had hit on an unlucky topic. John's mouth went down in a frown and his attitude grew even more hostile, if that was possible. "Sightseeing," he said, his eyes daring Marc to doubt him.
Kate jumped into the breach hurriedly. "I studied French all during grade school and high school, so John offered to bring me here as a reward." As she said this, she shot John a warning glance that was barely veiled behind a smile.
"Quite a good reward," Marc said easily. "I wish my parents would have taken me to America when I graduated."
"When did you graduate?" Kate asked to turn the conversation.
Marc saw what she was trying to do and obliged her. "Just this year. This is my last summer of freedom before collage."
From there the conversation took a safer note while Kate and Marc exchanged histories. Kate withheld the information that she was a mutant, as was her custom, but told him about her "private school" in New York, along with some stories of her amusing pranks. Marc laughed loudly as she described gluing Scott Summer's door shut and dousing people with gooey substances, all in malicious detail. In return, Marc told her that he had lived in Paris all his life, had studied English as a second language, visited some friends in America, fell in love with the country and hoped to become an interpreter there. He entertained her with tales of his boarding school days and it soon became apparent that they shared a love of practical jokes, randomly funny sayings (Marc loved Kate's slogan on her shirt), and making serious people everywhere live in terror of losing their seriousness. Throughout the dinner John's eyes flicked back and forth from Kate to Marc but lingered longest on Marc. He didn't trust the young man, his mission made it dangerous to trust anyone. Kate was allowed to like him because, technically, she wasn't working for Magneto, she was working for him. But she always came along on his various missions and was up to her ears in his plans, so John decided to watch her carefully.
The three young people finished their food quickly, but sat talking for two hours. With every passing minute Kate and Marc enjoyed each other more and more. Their similar tastes in books, movies, and practically everything were a source of amusement and food for conversation enough to last more than two hours. But at the end of that time period, John looked at his watch and said firmly, "Kate, it's time to go."
John had interrupted Marc in the middle of a story about how he had carried off his teacher's dressers on night when he was out and had hidden them in a garage, but nonetheless he stopped and smiled at him. "If you say so, John." He turned to Kate again. "I really liked talking with you."
"Me too," Kate agreed.
John stood up and the others followed. Marc looked slightly shy as he asked, "Do you think we could do this again?"
John frowned, but Kate was already nodding enthusiastically. "Definitely," she confirmed.
Marc smiled a huge smile. "Great. How would you like to meet me for a movie tomorrow?"
Kate shook her head. "That's not a good idea. They're all in French over here, and John wouldn't understand it."
Marc blinked. It was obvious to John that the other boy had not been including him in the invitation, but he made no effort to correct Kate.
Kate was thinking, pulling at a piece of curly hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. "Maybe you could come over to the hotel. The lobby is a great place to sit and talk. Plus, you could see my comic books." Earlier, Marc had expressed his liking for such things.
Eager to oblige, Marc jumped at the chance. "That sounds wonderful."
Kate let go of her hair and bounced a little with excitement. She fished in her pocket for a pen and grabbed Marc's hand. "Here's my phone number," she told him, while writing it down on his palm. "Give me a buzz when you want to get together or something." After that, she and John walked to the exit of the café patio.
Marc waved as the pair got on their motorcycle and zoomed off. He sighed a little to himself. She was so much fun. He would love to get to know her better. If only...but he stopped his thoughts there and walked homewards down the busy Paris streets.