Frederick's arm slowly crept back up and around Bryan's shoulders. Maybe Bryan was leaning on him, but at this point Frederick was leaning on him a little too. I will kill them. I will kill them all. Every last piece of fuck who ever hurt you. Oh my fucking God, what's happening to me? "Do you want me to kill them?" he asked. It probably should have bothered him to realize that he was completely serious. He didn't even think this was the alcohol speaking. "Just give me their names."
Since the Solar Flare he had seen so many riots, so many hate crimes committed against mutants just for being different, and he carried that anger with him without an outlet. But even before, he'd witnessed so much violence. He himself had been bullied by his own brother, who was fiercely competitive for their parents' affections. Then he'd seen it in school, even though he'd not been the recipient of it very often. He always fought back, and he wasn't a small guy. Then when he was out on the streets, and during his short lived porn career, he'd seen some of his co-workers beaten bloody for any number of reasons. And he'd also seen other co-workers commit violence. It was enough. Frederick had had enough. This was the secret reason why he'd come to the Haven. He wanted to be a part of something that could stop the vicious cycle, by any means necessary. Which was why he'd immediately jumped ship to go with Magneto and his more militant ideas. Sure, he always fed people the other, socially acceptable shallow reasons for coming, but there was always a hidden agenda behind them.
Even though this thing with Bryan was personal, he found that the idea of being an avenger, a vigilante doling out hard justice was one that appealed to him. He let the question hang.
Once in the hotel, Frederick went up to the front desk and got them a nice room. All the suites were occupied. It was a very small hotel, after all. But they only needed it for this one night, and it wouldn't be smaller than the cozy rooms at the Haven. Thankfully, this close to Mutant Town, no one batted an eye at his obvious physical mutation. Any doubts the clerks might have had were quieted when Fred produced his Centurion card, the pseudo-mythical American Express black card, to hold the room with. He was given his room keys in short order, and offered complimentary champagne to be sent up to his room momentarily.
He reached out and, if allowed, would take Bryan's hand and lead him towards the elevator.