Rictor snorted from his place on the couch, removing the arm that had been thrown haphazardly across his face to quirk a brow at Shatterstar. He knew his boyfriend wasn’t kidding --- if he said he’d beaten an old lady with a stick, he’d beaten an old lady with a stick. They should probably consider themselves lucky that it hadn’t been with a sword. “Romantic,” he said dryly, shifting into a sitting position and making room on the cushion next to him for Star to take a seat. “C’mere. Let’s eat the cranberries you fought so valiantly for.” Technically, Madrox had wanted them for cooking, but Madrox wasn’t here. What could he do?

@shattcrs

Daisy had entered dangerous territory. She had been spending enough time on her brother’s couch that it was... embarrassing really. He didn’t seem to be edging her out, but now that America was back in town (in dimension?) they were feeding three people and keeping them all in his tiny apartment. (Which was wonderful, but it felt a little tight. And a lot like the orphanage where they were all packed in like sardines.) So, she did what she could to keep them all fed at least. Which again, was a little complicated given her status with the government --- but she was doing her best. They were having time as a family after so long without each other. A reunion they all needed. 

But while shopping, she had left her cart unattended, searching through pineapples and sniffing them. (Google had said that was how to tell they were ripe --- how sweet the smell was around them... but Daisy couldn’t tell the difference.) She had one in hand and when she turned to set it in her cart, someone else was pushing it away, only to discover it was hers when she approached them. “It’s no big deal,” Daisy said with a shrug, setting the pineapple down. “They all look the same --- especially when they’re empty.” After all, she didn’t have much of value in the cart. (Nothing worth fighting over. No collectibles --- that could have gotten really nasty.) “I’m Daisy John---hnnngggg.” She came to an abrupt stop. She wasn’t used to being on the most wanted list. And who knew if this guy would turn her in for a cool million? “Daisy Johnwart.” Less believable, but at least it was close enough she’d at least respond. 

There was an echo. It wasn’t in the room itself, because Bobby had paid for this room and he’d made sure to fill it with many, many things to keep noise from bouncing off the walls and repeating itself, but there was an echo all the same. On the walls of your heart, his father would have said. He would have been right, and Roberto hated that. He hated that, years after he knew who his father was and what he’d done and still hear his voice as the voice of reason in his head from time to time. Did it make him terrible, he wondered? 

And was it worse that the echo of Shatterstar’s words rattled in his brain for long after they should have, that that easy smile slipped off his face, that he was searching for some way to admit that Star helping him out now that he’d put his name on that stupid line would only get them both into trouble? “That’s usually my line,” he replied, forcing his grin back into place. “I’m the billionaire here, Shatty. I’m the one that helps. What do you need, huh? New swords? Snack refills? Some clothes with a little less dirt on them for Ric? I’m your guy. Say the word, buddy.”

@shattcrs

@shattcrs

There were more than a few points in time that Terry was sure that they should have all died, but despite it, despite everything, they survived. (Or maybe they simply refused to die. They had all heard the call at one point. Terry knew that she had.) But she had learned to trust the gut instinct of the people she surrounded herself with. That’s how they survived. Pure instinct and luck and outright stubbornness.

“If you’re about to tell me that Layla said something --- or if you steal her catchphrase, Star...” She shot him a look of warning. But as she looked over Star, she could tell that whatever he was feeling --- it was genuine. This wasn’t some passing feeling. “You’re really worried?” Terry asked, though her tone was somewhere between questioning and understanding. Their lives, the people they were, it didn’t allow for hesitation. They didn’t get to sit around and discuss what would happen if things went wrong because they always did, and inaction, they had found out quickly, lead to more people being harmed. She had learned that the hard way --- the mutants that had been cornered in a building and Terry had tried to work with the law. (She thought she could prove that mutants were peaceful if she surrendered herself --- but it had done nothing. Everyone had been killed anyway.) 

“Star, how bad a feelin’ we talkin’ here?” 

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@shattcrs​:  "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He’d been rambling. He did that sometimes, especially when his mind was lingering on thoughts he’d rather not acknowledge. There were a lot of those lately, a lot of things he’d prefer not to think about... so Danny had been rambling. Usually, it was Ward or Colleen who got the bulk of his random stream of consciousness, but today it was a stranger. Danny wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

“The... coffee,” he provided, nodding to the counter. This cafe sold some of the best tea in the city, but the smell of coffee was overwhelming. “I’m just saying, I don’t --- I don’t get why people like it. It kind of tastes like crap. Last week my secretary bought me some she said would taste like Christmas. It did not taste like Christmas.”