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Click. Click. Click.

Logan could feel eyes on him. He slid his eyes sideways and noticed Scott staring at him. Again. Logan briefly wondered what was up with that guy before facing the mayor again. Something was up, but since Logan didn't care about whatever Scooter thought of him, it ranked well below paying attention to the stupid meeting they were in. Logan resumed clicking the cap of his pen, trying to stay focused.

Honestly?-- he should've been interested in whatever the mayor was saying. The meeting was called to praise Logan's construction job; it didn't seem necessary but there they were. He caught stray words-- 'great,' 'excellent,' and 'celebration'-- but in the end, it wasn't really all that special. He didn't want a party thrown in his honor; the job was for city and it didn't feel right using spare funds on a party.

Give him a bottle of spirits and a beautiful woman and he was set. Actually, he thought, a smile on his face, the woman part was pretty much halfway there.

He looked at Ororo, dragging his eyes from her gorgeous face, to her pouty mouth, further down her swan-like neck, and finally resting his eyes on her breasts.

Hank didn't deserve her. Hell, Logan knew he, himself didn't deserve her, but Hank even less. That guy kept fucking a real good thing.

The logical part of Logan's mind chimed in, letting him know that Logan was no better. In fact, they could barely get through a simple conversation without getting into it, but at least there was chemistry.

She shifted, almost nervously. Logan smirked. She knew he was looking.

Yeah. They were better meant for one another. Fuck Hank. That guy didn't deserve her.

"Do you agree?"

"Of course," Logan said quickly, sitting up. He stopped clicking his pen top and flashed Charles a shit-eating grin. He had no idea what was going on at the moment, but he wasn't about to let everyone else know. That would look unprofessional, and Logan was nothing but professional.

Well, for the most part.

"And you'll be ready?" asked Charles, a brow cocked.

"With bells and whistles, Chuck."

Charles gave him a skeptical look once more before deciding to give in. "Alright then. Meeting adjourned." Charles scooted away from the desk and looked to Ororo. "My office."

She nodded, gathering her things and rising to her full height. Logan admired how she filled out her skirt suit, and even though she was much taller than he in her heels, he couldn't deny the aesthetic.

Not even his conscious could argue the sight.

He moved to approach her when she raised a hand to stop him. He would've missed the action-- it was so quick-- but her face read... Serious? No, more like... worried.

Logan felt eyes on himself. In his peripheral vision, Logan saw Scott give a hard look, then leave the conference room.

Huh.

"C'mon, sug," Marie said, grabbing his shoulder. "I got something to show you."


Ororo passed Marie and Logan swiftly, her heels making a clicking sound on the low-pile carpet. She clutched her portfolio to her chest as she made her way to her office. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts before getting chewed out again. And she knew it was coming. She wasn't exactly sure why, but judging by the way Scott was acting this morning, and their weird conversation in the break room... She knew.

She grabbed her bottle of water from her desk and took a gulp. God, what was going on? There wasn't even a memo sitting on her desk to give her a hint-- if Marie didn't know, it was really bad. Charles personally told her to see him. That wasn't a good sign. She sat behind her desk, scrounging her mind, looking for context clues from Scott.

He hadn't said anything particularly telling, just that he met Hank over the weekend. It shouldn't have felt weird, but his tone was off. But then again, she just had a fight with Hank.

Oh, God... What did he say...

She glanced at the clock on her computer and got up; there was no putting this off.


It was a slow day. Trish sighed, sitting back in her chair, reflecting on how amazing that statement was. It was a slow day for press. In New York. The apocalypse had to be coming.

"What're you doing, Trish?" asked the pencil pusher in the next cubicle.

"Thinking. Plotting." Trish dropped her head against the back of the chair and looked up at the ceiling.

The pencil pusher chuckled. "About your apology to the Mayor?"

Trish squeezed her eyes shut. "No. Why would I apologize about reporting the truth?"

"Uh... Because your little story meant nothing? The construction project is done. Nobody cares about the minor details."

Trish smirked. "Great scandals have been uncovered thanks to minor details, my friend. Always keep an eye out for them," Trish advised.

"Sure." There was a long pause, broken only by Trish making a squeaking sound. "What?"

"I'm hungry."

"For a story?"

"No, I'm actually hungry." She checked her wristwatch. "I'm due for a break."

Trish fled from her little cell, thankful for the lunch break. She wouldn't have much time to eat, thankfully the place allowed carryout. She couldn't wait for the day where she could take hour long lunches, but she felt she was close. Forget what anyone said: She was destined for the big leagues.

She'd been raised right-- she always trusted herself and her leads, and she never trusted the government. If there was a chance of a story, she always knew where to turn. Her time would come. She just had to be ready.

She opened the doors to her favorite restaurant, her eyes glued to her wristwatch. It wasn't particularly full in the restaurant; she wasn't worried about bumping into anyone.

"--Don't know what's wrong with you--"

Trish opened her purse and approached the hostess. "Yeah, I'm here to pick up? Trish Tillby." She handed over her credit card, smiling politely.

"One moment, Ms. Tillby."

"--Really, Hank? It's my job! You jeopardized my job."

Trish turned her head. She was fully aware that eavesdropping was wrong, but she was a reporter, so it was kind of a grey area for her. And anyways, it was their fault for having a private conversation in public.

"Please, Ororo, understand I was angry."

Ororo?

"I don't care, Hank. If you're angry, you talk to me about it. You don't go to Scott. He works with me. You didn't think he'd bring it to my attention? To Charles'?"

Trish whipped her head around, honing in on the voice. She caught Ororo's reflection in a mirror.

"Well?"

Her date stiffened. "You shouldn't have involved yourself with him to begin with. Your relationship with him is incredibly inappropriate. If Charles and Scott came down on you, it's from your own actions."

"Don't you dare change the subject, Hank," Ororo snapped, raising her index finger at him. "Your fit of jealousy over a friendship--"

"With a coworker you had sex with--"

She thinned her lips; Trish knew the look. Hank was about to get dragged for filth over a low blow like that. If Trish wasn't snooping, she'd actually pity the couple.

"You know, Hank: I'm done," Ororo said, rising from her seat. "Your insecure, loud mouth is completely unattractive. I find it remarkable," she sighed, moving her bangs from her face, "that this is the most talent I've seen come out of it. It's a shame, really, because even drunk, Logan was better at being mouthy than you." She cocked her head, flicking her eyes over his face.

God, Trish would've given up this lead just to see Hank's shocked expression.

And then, like the cold hearted bitch Trish knew Ororo was, Ororo hummed a sigh and smiled minutely. "Don't ever call me again."

The hostess came back with Trish's food and credit card. "Sorry for wait."

"It's no problem. I'm sure it'll be worth the wait."

Oh, yes. Trish was destined for the big leagues: It was in the minor details.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay! I'm gonna stitch the chapters together later.





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