Monet had never aspired to be more than an art critic. She had never aspired to be an art critic for that matter. The beauty of her life was that she'd never had to aspire to be anything, especially not once her trust had come into her possession at the age of twenty-one. Aspiration was a concept forced upon her by Charles Xavier. She didn't resent it, but she did find that it had her investing time into things that she shouldn't have had but a passing interest in. She didn't have to go and get a PHD, but she was considering it. Why not? After all, she had the money.

She tapped her fingers against the floor while her other hand ran over the keypad on her computer. Her position, sprawled across the floor in the front foyer in front of the stairs, perhaps wasn't the safest, but she didn't feel particularly like moving. She was waiting for a delivery and didn't want to miss the UPS man when he arrived. There was a good chance that her fascination with furthering her education would ebb off once she had a new computer to play around with. She didn't particularly need it, but it would be nice to have something lighter when it came to lugging it around with her as she dashed to and from different art shows around the city.

The waiting killed her. She hated sitting still like this, even if it was in such a lounging manner. She simply didn't have anything else to be doing. Her danger room session was for much later in the afternoon and for her, work didn't begin until the evenings.

With thoughts of work she turned back to her computer screen. She flipped over onto her back and laid the computer on her stomach. A bit of a yank and a tug on her skirt did wonders and she was able to settle back in for another period of waiting.

[Open- Xavier's]