Ace winced as the small, hollow needle pierced the skin of the inside of her elbow, doing her best to sit completely still so Hank could find the vein he was aiming for. She hated needles, especially this kind, and he'd already pushed his luck a week ago with the first blood test. This, of course, spawned the necessary question:

"Why exactly am I doing this, again?" She asked through clenched teeth, trying to keep the muscles in her left arm relaxed and failing miserably at doing so. Hank couldn't help but chuckle at her words, carefully monitoring the red flow of blood in the small plastic tube. "Because I asked you, and you could not bear to refuse me." He was not usually one to make attempts at anything resembling her humour, but seeing as she had one of her most hated objects embedded in her arm, he figured he would give it a try. His reward came immediately when she smiled broadly and shook her head lightly at him. "Alright, but apart from that?" He huffed in mock displeasure that she needed more information than he had given, and her smile broadened just enough for him to notice. "Well, if you really need to know, I want to sequence the differences in your DNA from ours, and thus attempt to identify the genetic difference between beings from my dimension, and beings from yours." She nodded, he had told her this before, of course, but after the word 'blood test' she had kinda stopped listening and had a minor panic attack. "Right, so you can set up a warning system that will detect if anything appears."

He was silent for a moment, carefully removing the needle and pressing a small sterile gauze sponge upon the tiny prick in her arm. "Exactly. Come to think of it, what is the cause of your detest of needles, if it be known?" She had been opening up to him during the past few days, and he had begun to dare ask questions as they popped up in his mind, without fear of rejection. She sighed deeply, wincing at the thought of a painful, literally, and rather disturbing memory. "You know about Djinn?" She asked, sending him a questioning glance. He shrugged in response, raking his mind for any bells ringing. "Originates in Arabic folklore, the three-wishes grated if you rub a lamp creature?"

"That's it. Except, they're not really that benevolent. What they really do is put their victims into a comatose state and induce illusions of their dream life, to keep them from waking up while the Djinn feeds on their blood." She swallowed as if trying to withhold the sheer nastiness of the information she was giving. "Since the invention of constant blood-drawing with needles, they've been using those. It's rather nasty, actually."

Hank could almost picture it, a dimly lit room with halfway dead bodies hanging from the ceiling, blood constantly dripping through a plastic tube and into a bag. "That is rather distasteful. You were caught by one of them, I presume?" He was right, judging by the way she shivered and cringed for a moment, and she nodded, taking a moment to pull herself together again. "Sandra found me and stabbed the bastard, a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood does the trick, but I was out cold for days. I very nearly died, and that was because of a needle in my neck."

Hank involuntarily rubbed his neck in a subconscious reaction of compassion, he could almost feel the needle as she described it, and he suddenly had a far better understanding of why she disliked needles. He would, too, if someone had tried to slowly drain him of all blood with one. "That is… truly nasty." He admitted, cringing at the thought of it in much the same way she had. Arteries in the neck were not to be messed around with, even he was deterred by the idea of doing so. Ace shrugged, not too keen on staying on that subject. "Yeah, it is. But it isn't the worst."

He frowned with genuine concern, the world she came from was downright disgusting if these things roamed free. No wonder she was so vastly different from anyone he had ever known before – such a world as hers would without a doubt produce some pretty messed-up individuals. "Dare I ask what the worst is?" He ventured, not sure he really wanted to know. It probably wouldn't do anything good for his ability to sleep tonight, but his curiosity got the best of him. She resolutely shook her head. "Nu-uh. You do not, and I am not ready to discuss such things with you yet, Doctor Hank McCoy, in fact, I might never be." In response to the stern and very insistent gaze, he wisely decided not to push that subject any further.

He had a feeling as to what she meant by that statement, and it was not somewhere he wanted to go with her, or a discussion he would feel comfortable having.

Hank was saved by the gong when the door to his lab practically slammed open and none other than Wolverine stepped through. The scruffy man looked up and merely raised an eyebrow at the devil's trap painted in the ceiling, shrugging to himself as though he'd seen much weirder things. Which, when he came to think of it, he had. "Hiya, Furball. I came to check on that new girl the prof. mentioned." Straight to the point, that was Logan for you, Hank thought to himself. Ace looked the stranger over with a critical gaze, and she seemed to find him to her liking. That, for some reason, caused a bitter spark of something akin to jealousy to rise within Hank. He immediately subdued it and brushed it off as nothing.

"That'd be me. I'm Ace." They seemed to speak the same language, so to speak, as no physical greeting was necessary, not even a handshake or an awkward wave. They just stared each other down for a few seconds, and then seemingly decided that the other was not so bad, and then exchanged half-smiles. It was almost animalistic, Hank thought to himself, which seemed to fit the two respective personalities rather well. Logan crossed his arms, and Ace immediately responded with a similar gesture. "So what's your mutation?" he asked, and she immediately stopped smiling, her expression turning a mix of annoyed and regretful. Hank frowned at that, regretful? Did she actually want a mutation, knowing what he looked like, what it did to people?

"I don't have one. I'm just a hunter of the supernatural from another dimension. Where the supernatural actually exists." She seemed perfectly calm, even the slightest bit cold, and Logan was suddenly the same way. They were back to carefully trying to judge whether the other was trustworthy and strong. "I'd say that was bullshit, but since Furball has done all this to his lab, it isn't impossible." Abruptly, his gaze turned to Hank. "Is it true, Furball?" The blue mutant cursed inwardly, why did Logan have to mix him into this? They were more capable of solving their sudden issues than he was. He sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. "Yes, according to all tests and evidence, it is both possible and true."

Ace eyed Logan again, seemingly judging his muscle this time, and she couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in an appreciative expression. "I'll tell you one thing; you'd make one hell of a hunter." She might as well have catcalled him, it felt that way to Hank. Her praise of Logan made him feel awkward, uncomfortable and, much to his dismay, envious. Logan's reaction did not make it better, he smirked. He actually smirked, as though he'd just been given her phone number and promised a –

No, Hank would not finish that thought.

"Thanks. Shame about that mutation, I wouldn't might fighting with ya." This time it was Ace's turn to smirk, and it didn't make Hank feel any better. Logan, of course, did not fail to notice this, and the scruffy mutant immediately laughed, a short, barking laugh that made Ace raise an eyebrow, wondering what the hell had caused it. Logan was clearly about to say something snarky about how Hank should claim her if he wanted her, but she spoke first.

"Wait a second, do you sprout long metal claws from your knuckles?" Her question made bth Hank and Logan frown.

"Yeah, why?"

Ace's expression immediately changed to one of disbelief and realisation, in short, she looked like someone who had had an epiphany. "Oh. My. God. You're Wolverine." Hank was the only one of the two mutants who realised the significance of this recognition. He looked stunned for a moment, but quickly began questioning her. "Where do you know him from?"

"Saturday morning TV, I sometimes catch a glimpse of the cartoons. It's not really mu thing, comics ad stuff, but you're one of those characters that everyone knows, like Superman, Batman and the Hulk." Her words made very little sense to Logan, who looked from Hank to Ace with a vaguely disturbed expression. "I'm a cartoon in your dimension?" He asked hesitantly, not sure whether he should be pleased or not. She just nodded. "Yeah, but also a movie character. That's why you seemed familiar, your face was all over New York a few years ago, when I was there to hunt some Amazonians."

"There's a guy who looks like me in your dimension?" Logan asked, beginning to catch up with the parallel-dimension concept. Ace once again nodded. "Yup. And if you're on film, I'd guess the rest of you are as well. Kinda cool, I almost wish I'd watched those."

Logan nodded once, sending her another smirk, all the while eyeing Hank with such smugness, even Ace couldn't miss it. She didn't comment on it, though. "Well, now ya get to watch us live. I'd say that's better. I gotta go though, I have a team to train." And with that, he left.

After a few seconds, Ace sent Hank a bemused look. "A team?" She inquired, leaning slightly closer in a quizzical stance. It affected Hank more than he cared to admit, those few centimeters. He nodded. "Yes, a team of young mutants training their abilities."

"Young? Like children."

"Teenagers." Hank corrected.

"Who in their right mind would let anyone like me or him anywhere near teenagers?"