Surgeon General's Warning

Kitty nodded and walked past him towards the door. "We can talk outside. I need a smoke." Pete's eyes widened, but he followed her without a word. Once they hit the outside steps of the Mansion, Kitty turned to him. "I left mine on the dresser. Can I bum one?" Pete hesitated out of shock for a moment, but then automatically fumbled in his jacket pocket for his battered pack of Marlboros. He tapped one out and handed it to Kitty before taking another one out for himself. He lit hers for her, still in a bit of shock as she inhaled deeply and placed her attention back on him. She waited a few minutes for him to say something and realized that he was staring at her with a look of intense amusement. No… wait… he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at… "What's so funny about my right hand, Wisdom?"

"When did you join the blackened lung brigade, Pryde?" Pete asked casually, dropping himself to the steps He was bloody jet-lagged. Kitty moved to the steps and sat below him where she could still look him in the face.

"When I was bartending in Chicago. Being around it all the time, y'know? And then finals hit and I just decided that maybe I could use an early grave." Kitty snorted and took another drag. "Now are we gonna talk about my bad habits all night or are you going to tell me what was so horribly important that you had to risk me being forced to sleep in my own bed tonight." Not that she had been particularly planning to let Piotr see her naked again any time soon after that ridiculous display of testosterone earlier, but Pete didn't need to know that.

"Of course, luv." Pete responded in a tone that made it perfectly clear that he knew exactly what she was thinking. "So, we may or may not have a small problem." Pete ashed his cigarette and casually surveyed the surrounding area for eavesdroppers. Seeing none, he leaned back on the step above him.

"Oh? And what would that be, Wisdom?" Kitty could hear the tension underlying his casual demeanor. He was worried. This was not good, but it was still a good idea to play it cool and not get visibly upset until Pete was.

"Black Air is after you." There it was. The light at the end of the bullshit tunnel. When Kitty caught Pete's eye again, there was definitely a little bit of fear there. Fear and… was that guilt?

"Me? Why?" Kitty asked, knowing the answer before the question was even out of her mouth.

"Well… apparently, they don't take it well when you blow up their bases." Pete shrugged sarcastically.

"That was like 4 years ago, Pete. Why now?" Kitty wasn't going to lie, she was a little scared now.

"They just got the resources together, the way that I see it. The word at The Crown is that Scratch also isn't as blackened and crispy as I would have liked."

"So… what now?" Clearly this was going somewhere, and Kitty had a feeling she wasn't going to like it.

"Well, you come with me to London, I keep an eye on you, and I get to pick that brilliant American brain of yours while we try to find out how to bring these bastards down for good this time." Pete stubbed out his cigarette and sat back waiting for the inevitable reaction. It didn't come from Kitty.

"Nyet." From behind Pete, Piotr stood with crossed arms, shaking his head vehemently. "She will not go with you,. Wisdom" Pete braced himself for an argument but it didn't look like he was going to get to make it.

"What? What do you think you're doing, Piotr Nikolaevich?" Kitty stood up and Pete had to admit, it would have looked funny for someone so small to be threatening someone so big if Kitty wasn't so goddamned scary. "I will go where I want! You don't own me, Piotr!" Piotr was, Pete had to admit, intelligent enough to back away intimidated as his girlfriend advanced on him. "You are lucky, between that stunt inside and now this, that I don't kick your metal-plated ass back into that house! I am going and there's not a whole hell of a lot that you can do to stop me!" She turned to Pete, "When do we leave, Wisdom?"

"Well, luv, as soon as you pack your little bag." Kitty stormed back into the house and let Pete and Piotr standing on the porch, the former smirking while trying to hide it behind his cigarette and the latter trying not to look like he had just had the riot act read to him by his girlfriend. "So, Rasputin, lovely, uhhh… lovely weather we're having…" Piotr grunted and stomped back into the house. Pete grinned openly, watching him go, "Well," he thought out loud, "my work is done here."