"How are things going?"
"Raven, you should be at home," Charles said tiredly.
Raven tugged on his arm impatiently. She was growing tall, much taller than the little girl he had carried from Westchester in the dead of night. In a few months she would turn fourteen. Raven had seen herself as an adult for years now though, and his irritated protests against her doing field work were becoming moot.
The closest he'd come to appeasing her was to allow her to do some organizational work for the event. It hadn't been enough.
"You've been talking to these CIA people for a week now," she said, "Come on. Tell me what's going on."
"They're radioing in our latest demands to their superiors," Charles said tiredly, "And they'll come back to us when they find out if they have the authority to agree to us. When we finish hammering this out we'll take them to see Erik and they'll sign a paper and we'll have a party to celebrate."
"What kind of party?"
"They'll call it a ball I suppose," said Charles, "Standard."
Raven grinned.
"Can I go to the party?"
"It will be past your bedtime," Charles said firmly.
His sister made a face.
"Really?" she asked, "Past my bedtime? Charles, there were times when we were out fighting when I didn't sleep at all."
"And those times are over," he said.
She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him defiantly.
"Are you ashamed to show off your sister?" asked Raven, "Don't want to show off the blue girl in public?"
"You know that's not it. And you can only play that card so many times Raven," Charles said, "I approve of your decision to go around with no disguise, truly. I am simply trying to express the fact that-"
"That I'm too young?" asked Raven, rolling her eyes, "Come on. Besides, if you bring me, then you won't have to bring Neena or Alison."
Charles winced.
"Is Erik trying to give me another bodyguard?" he asked despairingly.
"No," Raven said, "they're trying to get you on your own time. Nothing to do with guarding you, I can say that much."
He groaned.
"I don't even want to know how you know this."
"Sometimes a girl can't help hearing about people who want to jump her brother," shrugged Raven.
"Language," Charles said.
"Well it's true," Raven said, annoyed, "And it's not just them. Personally I don't know why you don't just-"
"First of all," Charles said, "Neena is a good friend. I don't care how lucky she is though; I am not bringing her with me. I think you exaggerate her level of interest in me. And she's not…not…"
"Your type?" asked Raven.
"Yes, I suppose so."
"I didn't know you had a type," Raven teased, "I thought you just went with any pretty girl that-"
"That was before we came to Genosha, and you know that perfectly well," Charles said sharply, "I was young and irresponsible then."
"And somehow you were still an old fart," said Raven, "So is Alison your type or what?"
He sighed and leaned against the wall.
"She's lovely of course, but she…" Charles said, "I'm not sure what the word for this is exactly…"
"She has an annoying laugh and feels the need to comment on absolutely everything," Raven said, "I have no problem with you turning her down. So what is this type of yours then? Still don't think you have one."
"I'm…I'm still figuring it out," Charles said.
"Yeah, you go do that," said Raven, her voice skeptical, "In the meantime take me and no one's feelings will be hurt. I'm your sister! They won't be able to argue with that!"
Charles rubbed his temples. He was under enough stress already. Glancing at his watch he saw that it was almost time for him to take Levine and Moira on a tour of select parts of the city. Raven wasn't going to let up though, and he could use a break somewhere. Besides, he really didn't want to deal with Neena and Alison.
"Alright," he said.
Raven let out a delighted whoop and jumped into the air.
"But you will behave yourself," he said, "And you will have one glass of champagne. I will be watching you know."
"Right, right," she said, "I'll go talk to someone about getting something in one of those nice Genoshan prints."
She gave a self-satisfied smirk.
"Something blue."
A sudden thought occurred to her.
"Those agents got anything formal with them?" she asked, "Or do they all dress like James Bond?"
"Seeing as one of them is a woman, they don't," said Charles, shaking his head, "Now run along. I have to go and show them around. And for your information, neither of them have ordered any martinis. Ever."
"Real-life spies are so boring," Raven snorted, "I bet they've never even shot someone. What do you think?"
"I think the world would be a better place if we shot less people," said Charles, "And I certainly don't want them to learn how to use their guns in Genosha."
"You always take everything so seriously," sighed Raven.
She turned around and headed down another hallway. Charles shook his head after her and began to climb to their room. Logan joined him halfway up, looking irritated. He knew that the man would prefer to be doing something more dangerous than babysitting diplomats.
His brother was having similar problems, and they were going to have to work on that fast. Both of the brothers tended to be too angry for undercover work, but still. Creed's methods of murder were too brutal. The last time they had used him he had murdered prisoners that he was supposed to gaurd.
"Magnus said that Azazel's returnin' tonight," Logan rumbled.
"Very good," Charles said, "Has my presence been requested or…?"
He trailed off suggestively.
"He says he'll tell you," said Logan.
"Sounds like him," Charles said.
Logan smirked as they approached the door. Charles knocked on it and waited. After a few minutes Moira opened it, looking tired.
"I'm sorry about this, I really am," she said, "But it appears that Levine ate too much seafood at dinner last night. He's…had a bit of a reaction-"
The sound of someone throwing up violently underscored her words. Moira winced and Logan chuckled.
"Oh, yes," said Charles awkwardly, "I see. So, are you coming or are you staying with your partner?"
There were more sounds and Moira's wince intensified.
"He said I should go ahead," she said.
"I'm glad that the two of you trust us so much," Charles said, "It bodes well."
She gave a quick grin.
"I think it embarrasses him for me to see him like this to tell the truth."
"He'd have every right to be," Logan said.
Moira rolled her eyes before closing the door to her hotel room. They descended the staircase together.
"So," said Charles, "any news from your superiors yet?"
"Well, we wired them a few hours ago, so they're still deliberating it," she said, "You're into politics, you know that these things take time."
"Yes; and due to the fact that this is a bit of a secret treaty complicates things," Charles said, "Everyone knows you're here, but they think this is about something other than an alliance, don't they?"
"The hand of friendship, something like that," said Moira.
Logan pushed the door open and walked up to the car that was parked outside. Moira got into it, Charles sliding in next to her. As the car started off he said;
"So, as you know we're still in the state of rebuilding the city. Fortunately not much of it was damaged when we moved into the capital. The city harbors a great deal of history and, though the past of Genosha was not always the best, we don't want to lose all of our ties."
Moira nodded.
"And coming up on our right is the Opera House," Charles said, "I believe Alison Blaire is performing there tonight. Quite talented."
Inwardly he shuddered, remembering the time he'd actually met her. She was three years younger than him, but it the looks she'd given him had been somewhat uncomfortable.
"Do you always sound like an airline stewardess when you talk about the city?" asked Moira, amused.
"No, that's just for you," Charles said.
"I'm flattered."
He grinned before gesturing to the building.
"We're actually planning on having a celebratory ball there once everything is figured out," Charles said, "Just a formal occasion. In Genosha we try to find as many reasons to celebrate as possible."
Next to him Moira nodded.
"We were made aware," she said, "I can't say that I'm particularly looking forward to figuring out how to walk up those steps in high heels."
"Not a big party girl?" he asked, "And weren't you the one who went to the fancy college Agent MacTaggert?"
She rolled her eyes.
"On a scholarship," she said, "Of course, you strike me as the kind for these things."
He tilted his head.
"Well, sort of," Charles said, "Apparently there's a uniform I should be wearing at these sort of events. I can't say I'm enamored."
"Says the man who wears cardigans," Moira said.
He smiled. Charles was glad that they had gotten past most of the stuffiness of their position in the first few days. Even Levine was acclimatizing, which gave him a great deal of hope towards the rest of the world. He was sure most people would be surprised by it, like Levine, and the amount who would fear them would outnumber the surprised.
Putting business aside he rather enjoyed Moira's company. He'd been prepared to deal with CIA agents who walked and talked like robots. Well, he'd factored in the shock over mutants. Beyond that he hadn't really imagined them being clever, conversational and, he was still a man, rather pretty.
Her acceptance of the situation had also made things much easier. Who wouldn't fear meeting with the people who had tried to shut him away? However, the more he discussed these problems the more he began to doubt that the MRD was a government creation. Charles knew he could be being hoodwinked, but his telepathy did back him up. The two agents were genuinely puzzled about the idea of such an agency.
"Cardigans," he said, "are groovy. You can't seriously expect me to dress in a suit every day. The clothing bill would be catastrophic."
"The wool bill is probably already catastrophic."
"Now you're just being mean Agent MacTaggert," said Charles, smirking, "And you're insulting a diplomat."
She sighed but looked amused, so he continued.
"I could start an international incident."
"But you won't."
"Whatever you say Agent Mactaggert," he said.
Moira hesitated before sighing.
"Look, you can just call me Moira you know," she said, "Hearing 'Agent MacTaggert' every moment makes me feel about ten years older. And besides, you already have us calling you by your first name. Makes things awkward."
Charles raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"Alright, now you're just being mean Moira."
She shook her head and looked out the window. Her auburn hair moved slightly in the wind as her eyes took in the city. He felt proud that she could see such beauty there, that she wasn't batting an eye at the parade of mutants with wings and scales outside her window. There was something truly amazing about her.
He felt a small smile turn up his lips as he looked at her soft expression. She really was very pretty, made even more so by the look of wonder on her face. Suddenly he realized what he was thinking. She was a CIA agent that they were working out an accord with. What on Earth was he thinking?
Another, thought rose in his mind. He did have a type after all. And his reluctance to look at anyone else might stem from already having someone he was interested in.