#omegaquire

*It's an average Tuesday afternoon for Bobby Drake, and he's doing the usual: grading papers to get them out of the way, half-heartedly marking off answers and awarding the occasional gold star.*

*he's in his office chair, feet propped on the desk, and he crumples a paper and tosses it in the wastebasket.*

*Robert Drake stands at the board in his one-room schoolhouse, ostensibly teaching a small group of unruly children of varying ages. His pointer cracks at the current lesson--long division, it seems.*

Now, children, if you'll just give me your attention for a time, you'll get an extra ten minutes for your dinner-hour.

*nobody seems to be listening.*

*People are often thudded unceremoniously onto one of Doc Banner's tables, the saloon nearby is popular and arguments are frequent, and he wonders at what point he will stop flinching at the sudden arrivals.*

*he looks down at the newest arrival, adjusting his small wire rimmed glasses; the young man's not local, and neither is the woman with him. He nods to the woman.*

*Idie sits alone in a corner of the library--the dorm is too noisy this time of day, and she likes a bit of time to herself a couple of times a week*

*Idie runs through the halls of the Jean Grey School, on the verge of panic and intent on finding someone who can help*

*she runs across Logan in a hallway near the classrooms, and she stops, pausing momentarily to catch her breath; it's immediately clear there's an issue, and she's immensely worried.*

*Kitty is sitting in a classroom looking over papers with Lockheed at her side.*

No, that's clearly an 'a'.  Come on, this paper is riddled with misspellings, you really doubt there's one more?

*alien dragon speak. Points at paper.*

No! It's an 'a'! It's typed, there's not really much chance that it's not what it looks like.

*alien dragon speak.*

*It is a regular occurrence for James Howlett to have nightmares and they follow a tragically predictable pattern - he is happy, and he is punished. He kills, there are regrets, there is blood. It is at the very least, a comfort to know that is subconscious is as creative as his waking mind. 

But that dream was different.

The morning after, he considers calling on Betsy - but she is too close, near enough that if it was an attack he fears it'd bring her in too. He needs to check, lightly, and letting her in would be a challenge for them both. An alternative is needed, then.

Logan knocks on Quentin Quire's door with a grunt*