A/N: Here is more of One Shot of Bourbon, can you feel the love?
Piercing blue eyes silently watched the scene unfold. The incoherently babbling fool who he had placed his arm around was talking to herself as she played a game involving furious pressing of buttons. A streak of white hair fluttered in front of her eyes as she ravished the flashing lights that spazzed across the screen. She was so engrossed, she didn't even notice how the protective arm that was hugging her shapely waist slowly relaxed. The only thing anchoring the blond to his date was a thumb hooked in her belt loop. He took no notice of how the spikes imbedded in the leather belt were digging into the taut flesh of his lanky arm. While his eyes were taking in the scene, his ears were blocking out all of the annoying yips the girl in his arm was making. The synthetic blaring of victory music made him reflexively tighten his hold around the pillar of flesh. The girl in his arm squeaked as the arm compressed her waist into a smaller area. She did an about-face to give those enchanting eyes a piece of her mind, but her wide, innocent-looking eyes spotting something ever so much more interesting. Given a choice between a certain chance of getting ten dollars or a 50/50 chance of getting hundred dollars, most people will immediately dive at the chance of a hundred. The mousy haired girl in his arms was no different than anyone else. Her eyes caught a much tastier prize over the shoulder of the prize she had already won. The girl twisted out of his grip and started towards the prize in the distance. Almost as an afterthought, she reached behind her and grabbed his wrist with a gloved hand and pulled him away from the sight that was absorbing all of his attention. The blue eyes iced up and a sincere smile was plastered twisting his pretty lips into an unnatural, plastic look as he dutifully followed a girl for whom affection had become an act a long time ago.
A man, standing as if attached to a bean pole, stood near the entryway with his arm possessively around the waist of the redhead beside him. The redhead was periodically scanning around the room to look for mischief among their charges. The smoke from the adult smokers near the bar obscured the already dimly lit room. The redhead could barely see a young mutant playing pool with one of the regulars. Without prying, the redhead guessed that the lithe figure with her hips at a forty-five degree angle to the floor was making a fair amount of dough off of her prey. Her gaze scoped across the room and fell upon the blond and belle over at the arcade games. She allowed a small smile to grace her serious face. They were such a cute couple. Everyone chatted over caffeinated beverages or coffee about how those two were just like her and the steel pole who was trying to be affectionate by encircling her waist. That arm, so carefully slung, seemed to be trying to protect her from some external force. The redhead became annoyed at the person next to her for assuming what he thought was going to take her away would. She rolled her eyes and wondered if she could get away from her boyfriend next to her without him accusing her of chasing after his imagined rival. The reverie was shattered as a burlesque Canadian strolled through the doors she and her partner were guarding. Smoke from the cigar dangling from the Canadian's fingers added to the haze permeating the room. If possible, the redhead felt the person next to her tense up even more. She tried to get away, but the arm around her held her fast like a bloody anchor. The redhead kept the exasperated sigh in and put a calm look on her face which made her look older than she was.
The Canadian spoke first, "Heya Cykky, I guess you decided to treat the teens," his acute eyes cut through the haze and fell on the pool table, "Ah, I see it's giving one of our young charges an opportunity to increase her pocketbook." The Canadian brought the cigar up to his chiseled face and inhaled deeply. Taking the cigar away, he let the smoke slowly exit and join its brethren already obscuring the views of everyone there. After an awkward silence in which the redhead tried to break free, the Canadian looked her partner straight in the eyes and playfully challenged, "I bet you couldn't beat me at game of pool Cykky."
Her partner curtly shook his head and said, "Jean, can you watch this door all by yourself?" The redhead nodded in response, grateful for the intervention but not showing it. Her partner strode across the room with the Canadian and disappeared into the haze. The redhead couldn't tell, but she swore she saw the Canadian give her a wink. When she could barely see their outlines, she relaxed and plopped herself down into a chair. She highly doubted that any of the mutants, even the one coming back to them from the dark side, would cause any trouble. And if anyone tried to mess with them, well, her charges could hold their own. As she was about to reach for an abandoned newspaper which lay skewed across the table, she felt a draft disturb the stagnant air. She slowly turned around as she caught sight of a figure in the doorway. As her mind was trying to process the figure standing before her, a little voice wormed its way inside her head and said, "Miss me?"