[OPEN]

Evelyn checked her reflection in the full length mirror of her hotel room not for the first time that day (sixth to be exact) trying desperately not to wrinkle her nose at her outfit.

In reality it was a very sexy sophisticated outfit: black skinny jeans that clung to her skin like a second skin, calf high stiletto boots, fitted shirt that again clung to assets like it had been made specifically for them, long dark hair loose with even a slight curl and makeup just this side of subtle. She wasn't sure what she was trying to achieve with this outfit, aside from getting noticed.

It just wasn't... her, she was more used to... combat clothing.

The brief was laid out on the bed of her hotel room - she was to join the mansion as the foreign languages teacher and all she could do was hope that she managed to make it convincing. It helped that she was multilingual, it was an essential talent to have in her position.

To be precise Evelyn spoke: French, Russian, German, Italian, Spanish, Chinese and well, English. Granted it was more an Irish take on English, but, still, it was English.

Her superiors had even forwarded on an impressive resume along with a comprehensive list of references along with just the right amount of detail on the form itself.

She breathed, sliding her hands into her hair, recently manicured nails skimming the skin along the back of her neck as she fiddled with it, not used to having it down.

Part of her felt bad about this, but another part, a much larger part knew she had a duty to serve as best she could. Eve took one last look at her reflection before she pulled on a leather jacket, zipping it up until once again another layer of clothing looked as if it had been created especially for her.

Evelyn let herself out of her room and caught the first cab she could to the address she'd noted down, hopefully somebody would be there to meet her.

Consciousness was one of those things that seemed pretty shaky to one Bobby Drake by the time it finally decided to return to him. His arms felt heavy, as did his legs, and there was a throbbing somewhere... he couldn't quite pin down where and a very maddening itch that some part of his brain just knew he couldn't get to, so it was going to make the itching even worse just to spite him. Of course.

He shifted a little, coughing as his eyes still refused to open. He wasn't sure he wanted them to, though. What if they were still in that place?

( A little bit of confusion )

The garage was full of motorcycles with keys and helmets. He would have to make sure not to take Logan's bike. The last thing that he wanted was to piss off the Wolverine. Settling on one he was sure wasn't his or Scott's and set to work hotwiring it. It only took a few seconds and before he left, he wrote a note and set it on the chair nearby.

borrowed your bike.
promise i'll bring it back. with gas. in one piece

- alex.

With that, he was off. He needed to get out of there, just for a little while. He had forgotten how stifling it could be around all those people. People judging him, expecting him to be Scott. Scott he wasn't and he was so glad for that. He skidded to a stop in front of a nearby bar and made sure the bike was locked up before he made his way inside.

"Gimme a beer?" he asked as he sat down at the bar, shrugging out of his jacket. Fishing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, Alex leaned back and finally felt like he was somewhere familiar.

Narrative

It was a cold night, but John barely felt it.

He'd slipped out of the window in the shared bedroom with Bobby sometime after his confrontational communication with both Adelaide and Jubilee and found a place to sit. It was suitably dark and he could be left alone, not even wolf-boy would find him out here.

The events of the last week or so weighed heavily on his mind, how Bobby had been slipping away in front of his eyes, and how everybody else had been hurting in one way or another. It wasn't that he didn't care, he was just... afraid of caring, because rejection was inevitable.

( Cut for a lot of mentions of self harming. It's not pretty under here. )

After dropping Jenn off at a bar, Illyana had gone back to the citadel. She just wasn't in the mood for drinking and bar fights tonight. Her temper would snap and she would probably end up killing someone. That would end up pissing off Magneto and Victor, and that wasn't something she wanted to deal with tonight.

Instead, she found an empty room in the citadel and decided to work on some sword moves. She warded her circle so that nothing could escape from Limbo and out into Genosha. That would be another one of those things guaranteed to piss of the bosses.

When she was ready, she opened a disk to Limbo and waited for the first demon to get brave enough to come through.

The mansion was nothing but absolute chaos. Ethan could tolerate only so much of it before his head began to feel as though it would explode from all the noise and children running to and fro. He loved kids, really, but the school was far too understaffed. He had been trying to quit smoking before the... well, before, but now he found himself ducking outside more often than not to have a quick cigarette while he tried to maintain a hold on his sanity.

Most people thought Ethan was one of the more patient, sane people around. While this was usually true (Ethan had been told more than once that he had the patience of a saint), he now only seemed to make it through the day by spiking his coffee with alcohol. Or keeping himself distracted. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, and it made him seem that much more scatterbrained.

He pulled his aviators on over his sensitive eyes as he stepped outside, a cigarette already dangling from his lips. Within seconds, the cigarette was lit and he was starting his walk around the building. He had been doing that a lot lately, circling the mansion, almost as if he expected another attack. Truth be told, he almost did. After Brenna had told him and the other X-Men the info she had stolen from that scientist's mind, he didn't think it would be too far off to expect another attack. He just hoped they would be better prepared when that happened.

He caught a whiff of cigarette smoke, coming from just ahead of him. Frowning, Ethan strode forward. "John?" He found the teenager smoking in the space between the the main building and the alcove that housed the industrial-sized dumpsters. Hey, you live in a boarding school for mutants, see how much trash you accumulate over a week. "Still hiding?" he asked with a hint of a smile.

He was relieved to see John. The teenager had made himself scarce once Bobby had woken, and Ethan had to admit he worried. He worried about a lot of people, and part of him wanted to say John could easily take care of himself. And he could - physically, at least. It was the mental that Ethan worried about.

Gaia had gotten back to the school somewhere in the realm of four, but hadn't gone inside yet. It was starting to get dark, but she couldn't bring herself to care too much about the passage of time.

She wandered, getting angrier and angrier as she thought about what she'd gone home to and the torn pictures. Those animals! She wanted to throw things to hit people and get pissed out of her fucking skull.

Now who to go with her? Because that sort of evening demanded an accomplice.

About then she heard the strum of a banjo. Not Gaia's favorite instrument, but whoever was playing it was pretty damn good. She followed the music and it took her to a wide and tall tree. She looked up and smiled. Well, it was one way to meet Logan's girl.

"Hey, Matty! Wanna get pissed?"