Author: MagnusXXN
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: BTVS doesn't belong to me, its Joss Wheldon's baby as is Angel. I don't own the X-men, or the concept of mutants, that's Marvel's baby. I just own this story but I don't have any money so sue someone else. I've changed some of the back-story of Buffy, but I'll explain it along the way.

When they arrived, Ms. Frost took it upon herself to introduce Xander to the who's who of London's high society. Much to the young man's disdain.

Smoozing with the locals had never been one of Eric's past times, and it seemed his dislike of it had bleed through to the young teen who now owned his memories. Or it could be that the White Bishop disliked it all on his own.

But he would play along and make nice with the people around him; after all it was for a good cause. All the money raised tonight would be going to various foundations that would be buying food, medication, and other well needed supplies for the children in these third world countries.

After a few minutes Emma pulled him away from a down right boring conversation with one of the main contributors, "I wanted to thank you for coming. I so hate going stag," She stated with a pleasant smile.

One that he returned, "Well, it's not really like you gave me much choice. But I do get the bragging rights to have come to this party with the most beautiful date here."

His compliment brought another smile to her lovely face. Ever the sweet talker, she thought to herself.

"I do get so bored at these gathering. With so much money around, why is there never any worthwhile entertainment?" Emma told him with a tired sigh.

Xander looked around at all the guests before answering, "How long do we have to stay? We could just slip out quietly. I'm sure no one would miss us." She was very tempted to take him up on his offer.

"As much as I'd like too..." She trailed off as a young lady interrupted her. "I'm sorry to have to disturb you Ms. Frost, but one of the Prime Ministers has asked to speak with you."

The blond telepath turned to her young friend with a very agitated look, "Go mingle, have a nice time," She told him with a very plastic smile.

'Let me talk with the old wind bag, and we'll get out of here right after,' Emma sent to him telepathically, as she was dragged away to yet another boring conversation.

The teen clamped down on his mental shielding right after she'd sent him the message. He knew she hadn't read his mind, just sent him a telepathic communication, but it was still disconcerting to hear someone else's voice inside your head.