Nightcrawler strolled into the kitchen like he didn't have a wanted terrorist on his heels. I had to admire his balls- I would much rather have been creeping across the ceiling. The kitchen smelled like bleach and fruit 'n' cream instant oatmeal. Right off I noticed Rogue and some blond kid sitting side by side staring glumly at a mobile phone that lay inert on the table. When I stepped through the doorway she raised her head and gave me a hard warning look. I had no doubt in that moment that she could take me down if she thought it necessary, and I wondered who'd taught her to be so tough. From what I'd been told Xavier's school only produced hypocritical vigilantes and passer doormats.
Another teenage girl from the plane yesterday stood guard over the oatmeal with a ladle raised uncertainly in her hand.
"Did Mr. Summers say you could leave the basement?"
"Yes." Technically what he had said was that he would let me out of the quarantine cell, but close enough. "Can I have some oatmeal, or is it good-guys only?"
She stifled a laugh and turned abruptly back to the pot. She ladled out two bowls, then handed one to me and one to Nightcrawler. I was about halfway though the artificial fruity almost-goodness when the awkward silence was broken by a little tune from the mobile on the table. The blond boy scooped it up.
"Mom!?" He said in a hopeful voice that made me want to throw my spoon at him.
"What… Hank? You have this number?"
Everyone was looking at him now. "Hank," Oatmeal Girl shouted "are you ok?"
A handful of children poked their heads through one of the kitchen doorways and Rogue looked confused. Blond Boy was covering his free ear with his free hand and talking into a corner the way people do with phones in crowded rooms.
"I'm not sure I can… I think he took a sleeping pill. Mr. Summers hasn't come down either… Everyone else is- yeah… But are you ok?"
There was a longer pause, during which Blond Boy's body language became increasingly agitated. "Ok, we'll go get Mr. Summers." He waved vaguely and Oatmeal Girl dashed off, sneakers thudding and earrings faintly jangling.
"But Hank," Blond was repeating "are you ok?"
"Wait, what? Did you say blue fur?"