Moira MacTaggert- Taker of Risks( or so she likes to think)
A/N Hello again! Here's chapter two :-)
Disclaimer: I own nothing ,it all belongs to Marvel!
"Charles Xavier." The man says, holding out his hand as they walk through the park.
She shakes his hand.
"Moira MacTaggert." She replies. He smiles, something she's become quite used to now, in only the space of a minute or so.
"So you are American." He remarks. "What brings you to England?" He shoots her a sidewise glance before staring out over the pond slightly to his right. "I hope it wasn't the weather." Moira can't help but smile at this. She looks at the sky, which is cloud free.
Moira shrugs.
"A change, I suppose." She's not lying. The reason she took the job, although she didn't think this through, was to get away from her job. Not as a holiday as such,but away from meetings and councils and the like.
"That's fair enough. Have you been doing much sight seeing? Oxford is very good for that, or so I hear."
Moira is surprised by his tone of voice. Usually when boys try to chat to her, you can tell they aren't very enthusiastic about what she has to say, and are just asking questions because apparently that is what girls like. But Charles seems genuinely interested, as if he truly cares. Maybe he does. Moira doesn't know.
"No, I've had a lot of work to do." She grimaces slightly. "Are you local?"
He shakes his head.
"No, actually. I grew up mostly in America, but moved to the Lake District when I was 16."
Moira raises her eyebrows.
"So why the accent?"
"I didn't leave the house much, and my parents were also British. I was a bit of a loner really." He smiles slightly, and laughs.
"Okay. Where were you?" Moira is yet again surprised by this new, confident, Moira. She's a little weird, but Charles seems to like her.
Charles smiles, obviously pleased for some reason Moira hasn't quite fathomed.
"New York state. What do you do?"
"Sales manager." Moira replies instantly. Something about him makes her want to spill the beans, and tell Charles the truth. But she's been drilled, and thoroughly, on the dangers of letting loose her identity. Dammit! She shouldn't even have told him her name! Her name is Audra Brown, and she is a sales manager from New Yersey.
Not Moira MacTaggert, surveillance agent, and taker of risks(of the spy kind, maybe not the boy kind)
Then again, this wonderful Charles person could be a spy. And if he is, he might know about Moira MacTaggert. What if he is, and doesn't care at all?
Moira could scream. Why oh why did she have to be a goddamn spy! It's ruined every relationship she ever had, and took over so much of her life, and has so far given nothing back except a small ounce of hard won respect from colleagues. And respect can't get her happiness.
Good thing Moira is trained in self defence. And infiltration. If this guy really is a spy, ( which she desperately hopes he isn't), she might be able to work this thing in reverse. Maybe get some useful information...
She snorts. As if. She's not a Bond girl, she's a slightly clumsy CIA Agent who likes to hum the Mission Impossible theme tune to herself when filing paper and running around the office.
Charles looks up.
"Sales manager?" His tone is a tad sceptical. "Interesting..."
"Yes.. Very." Moira trails off, and looks at the ducks swimming in the pond to her left. "What about you?" She says, smashing the awkward silence that was threatening to cover them.
Charles spins, walking backwards in front of her to face her. A cheeky smile lights up his face, reaching right up to his eyes. Which, Moira notices, are as blue as the sea, big waves of kindness flowing within them.
She blinks. She didn't realise she was a romantic poet now.
"I'm still studying at the university." Charles answers. Moira sighs. Another one who looks older than he is. Great, she'd better go before he realises she is 26. Much older than he is.
Charles notices her tired look.
"Is something wrong?" He asks. His eyebrows are raised. Moira looks at her feet. Honesty is the best policy. Supposedly.
"I just realised how much older than you I am."
Charles laughs, raising his eyebrows, undeterred.
"Oh really?" Moira nods. "Well, I'm 27, so you must look very good for your age." He smirks.
"Oh." Moira replies, relieved and embarrassed. "I'm 26."
Charles adds a smile to join his smirk.
"Told you." He takes his left hand out his pocket and gestures around him. "Here," he makes a wide, sweeping gesture to a small cafe, "or there?" He asks, pointing to a very English looking pub at the end of the road.
Moira looks at Charles. Old her would have picked the cafe, calm and sweet. And new her, well she's not entirely sure what new her would do. But the pub seems like the best option on her opinion.
"There." She grins, taking Charles' arm.
He raises his eyebrows.
"Did not expect you to say that."
"Why not?" Moira frowns. Charles laughs again
"Because you look so... So."
"So what?"
"So.. Above that sort of thing. In a good way, of course." He winks.
Moira frowns, but then laughs. Seems like becoming someone new needs some changes on the outside as well. Ah well, she had nothing planned tomorrow apart from eating biscuits in front of her favourite films, so she could go shopping. She looks down at her skirt suit. She sighs. She does look above all these things.
Depends if Charles asks you out again! A cheeky part of her brain thinks. Moira blushes, and it's Charles turn to frown in confusion.
"What?"
"Oh nothing." Moira giggles slightly. Charles shrugs.
"Onwards we go." He laughs, and they walk across the road.