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Ororo paced around her office, angrier than she’d ever felt. She’d spent an hour telling Marie about her five minute date. Every detail had been scrutinized, re-scrutinized, dissected, inspected for political relevance, and fitted to explain her feminist ideology. Marie, who was the only person to know about the online dating “scandal”-- Ororo dubbed it a scandal in the aftermath-- listened faithfully, but she came to one conclusion: Ororo was pissed.

“I’m deleting my profile.” Ororo stopped her rant long enough to have a moment of clarity: It wasn’t worth it. This was a sign. She was better off single. This was such a mistake. She should’ve never gotten jealous and had three glasses of wine-- those were the two worst factors in decision making: strong emotions and alcohol.

“Wait!” Marie said, grabbing at the computer. She covered the keypad with her arms and looked at Ororo, trying her hardest to not laugh. “It was one bad date, okay? Everyone has one. I’m not about to let you just... throw away that profile. You know I worked hard on making it.”

Ororo rolled her eyes. “I’m the one on the damn site.”

“And?” Marie straightened up and smoothed her blazer down. “Quit actin’ like this is the end of the world. It’s gonna be fine.” Ororo huffed a breath and rolled her eyes. “Really.”

She slumped down in one of her leather seats and looked at Marie. “This is just... bad. I just wanted to meet him. He was so charming,” she said dreamily. “And handsome. I guess I was just duped.”

Marie hummed. “You weren’t duped, Ro. You barely knew the guy so this is to be expected. Next guy you’ll know better--”

“There won’t be a ‘next guy.’ I’m deleting my profile at the end of the day.”



Remy threw back his head, laughing. No matter how many times Logan told Remy, it was always funny. “You messed up. Badly.”

“You think I don’t know that?” growled Logan. “Christ,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He felt tired just thinking about it. He was loath to admit it, but he thought about that date over and over and over again. He didn’t really care about the broad, but wow, was it bad. He really did feel bad for acting like an ass, and he knew he was in the wrong. When Logan got home, he actually opened his profile to message her an apology, but something held him back.

She really overreacted and there was no way she would actually listen to him. Logan could read people and what he got from her wasn’t good. She was more of a challenge than he could handle. Just going by what she wore said more than she did... before she started yelling at him. She had one of those expensive handbags, and if there was one thing Logan knew about expensive handbags it was that the more expensive the bag, the shittier the owner was. Hers looked like it cost four months of groceries and rent.

It was a damn shame their date went south so quickly. Logan didn’t ask if she was a model for nothing. She really looked like she was meant to be on the cover of Vogue. But just because she was pretty didn’t mean she was wonderful. She was, after all, on the same random dating site as Logan. Yeah, there had to be something wrong with her. There was no other reason she would get so angry at his question.

That’s what he told himself.

“It was a mistake; I tried apologizing.”

Remy clapped his hands together and laughed. “You can’t ask no petite questions about her... hair,” he said, waving his hand around. Remy spun around in his chair and opened her profile. “Damn. What Remy wouldn't give to just have one night... Y’ said her hair was white?”

Logan nodded. “Like fresh snow.” Remy whistled and Logan wanted to, too. It was silly, but her hair and the color reminded him of home. Not that he liked it. “It’s over so it doesn’t matter.”

“Sure, it doesn’t.” Remy closed the window and stood. “So you ready for your meeting with the mayor? And Remy tol’ you he would meet with you.”

Logan nodded, then shook his head. “Well, I’m s’posed to meet with him next week, but I'm not sure exactly when-- I think I'm gonna get a phone call or something. Anyways, I’m planning on putting together a model, a little speech. Something to wow them. A portfolio, obviously, but I think a model will really impress them.” Logan opened his office desk and took out a leather folder with the tentative model sketch. He handed it to Remy and waited for his friend to look it over. Though he’d never admit it, he was anxious.

Business had been slow the past few years. Nobody wanted to take a chance with a new construction company that mostly worked on home additions. Logan knew he had what it took-- his work was always well received-- but that didn’t always translate into jobs. He needed the contract with the mayor. He’d finally move out of the stupid building he was renting and into something a little fancier. It wasn’t all bad, being in the small building, he met Remy and Piotr since they worked next door, but still. A bigger place would always be nicer. He’d be able to hire more employees.

"Looks good, Logan."

“Thanks, man,” he said.

Remy waved his hand. “Think nothin’ of it. Just make sure you give your pal Remy a job when you move up.” Remy rose to his feet, winking. “I gotta get back, lunch break’s over.”



“... Yeah, we’ll talk later. Are we still going to the gym later?” asked Ororo. Marie nodded. “Great.” She watched her friend walk out the door, then stand aside so Scott could enter. Ororo looked up, pausing her typing. “Scott. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Scott dropped a paper on her desk. “You see this?” he asked, obviously unhappy.

Ororo looked back at her monitor. “I receive all three major newspapers this city prints, two web subscriptions to lesser known ones, and I often read blogs. So, yes, Scott, I saw that.” Her meeting with Trish Tillby didn’t exactly end well. The reporter kept pushing for answers on something unrelated and Ororo decided to treat the tabloid twit with the same amount of respect. It was going to be fine, though. Ororo already scheduled another meeting with her. “It’s fine.”

“‘A fifteen percent tax hike in the name of construction. While the inner city is in need of better schools, there has been an increase in police presence. Some citizens claim this is counterintuitive; racial profiling has already been exhibited,’” Scott read, his voice edged with anger. He slammed the paper down once more and tapped at the headline. “This isn’t what we need, right now. What I need right now,” he grouched. “I got chewed out by Jean because I came home late last night.”

Ororo sighed and looked at Scott. “I came home late, too, Scott.”

“Yeah, but you always leave late.” He sat down. “You’re single.”

Ororo clenched her jaw, then released. “Thanks, Scott.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Look, Ororo, you know I didn’t mean it like that. And if you’re looking, I know this great guy. Well... Jean does. They met... I don’t know... somewhere. Anyways, she showed him your picture and he was open to meeting--”

“You showed some stranger my picture?” The irony was not lost on Ororo, but this was different. “Scott, that’s rude--”

“It wasn’t me, it was Jean.”

“Oh, yeah, Scott: Sell out your pregnant wife. Real honorable,” Ororo snapped.

“Use my pregnant wife to make me feel bad: Real honorable,” Scott replied. He quirked a smile. “C’mon, Ro. We’re not in high school. She’s just trying to help--”

“I’ve been helping myself,” she hissed.

“Really? You went on a date? Is that what you were talking to Marie about?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Ororo felt lead drop in her stomach. She flicked her eyes downwards and felt her face grow hot. She fidgeted. “Well, yes. But that’s unrelated. You can’t go around showing my picture off! Who knows what kind of psycho is lurking out there? They could be really inappropriate.”

Scott gave her a weird look. “Uh, sure. Are you talking about something else?” he asked, leaning forward.

“No!” She drew herself straighter up. “No. I just don’t want to be matched up without my knowledge and I don’t want to be treated like I’m some inexperienced kid. I’ve been working this job for a while, Scott. I know what I’m doing,” she finished, expertly distracting the conversation. No way she was going to admit she’d been trying online dating.

Scott began patting his front down. “Yeah, well, it’s already done. Jean got the guy’s number. She said she’d text you about it later. And speaking of texts,” Scott trailed off. He tugged his phone out of his pocket and read the screen. “I gotta get back. I think Bolivar Trask is calling; I still don’t trust that guy.” He stood up. “Make sure you get this fixed, Ro. This looks bad on everyone. You have a date for the meetings?”

“The first one should be next Monday? Marie already sent out emails and talked to them.” Ororo tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. “Relax, Scott. I know what I’m doing. I’m a professional.”



Just as Logan waved Remy goodbye, his email chimed. He pulled out his phone and cursed the damn thing. For a smartphone, it was really slow. His calls were always coming in late, his texts rarely sounded, and his emails rarely came in. He opened it anyways, dimly aware of the fact that it would just be easier to make the dedicated email icon sync with his actual email address. There was an email from the mayor. The meeting date had been set. He was set to meet with him and his advisors at nine thirty on Monday.



There were articles about addiction all over the internet, in books, magazines, and sometimes there were in-depth interviews on the news. Some people talked about how they’d go in for a root canal and leave with a debilitating addiction to pain killers; others talked about how they grew up around the wrong crowd and just wanted to forget. One thing was common amongst the interviews and articles on addiction survivors: It didn’t take much to backslide.

Some said it was a bad day, or a random smell. The biggest trigger?-- People.

They always said they could go years without seeing their dealer, or their friends, or their fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters, but one hello could make all those years meaningless. The hold their past relationships had on them was so insurmountable that the job acquired, the beloved family and friends, and the achieved dreams would mean shit because of one person.

Logan groaned as he looked at his online dating profile, trying to find relevance to his thoughts.

She was a stranger and yet all those feelings of anger and annoyance and awkwardness came back to the surface, only this time they were coupled with fear. He’d fucked up on grand proportions and he had no idea what he was trying to do. He knew he had to apologize, he just... couldn’t figure out what to say.

The day started out so well.

He made sure he arrived at the mayor’s office early, his model in a special case. He’d made sure his presentation was perfect, he just had the model just in case he got lost or stumbled. And anyways, it was fun to make. It was like model trains, only this time there wasn’t manual. He could be creative and let some of his passion into the project. If he ever felt nervous, looking at a labor of love would help ground him.

The conference room was almost indistinguishable from the other rooms the Southern secretary ushered him into. She gave him a quick smile, then asked him for his portfolio. She remarked that his early presence would be noted by the mayor, especially his advisors. And when Logan let out a sigh of relief, she asked him if he wanted any coffee. He told her the stuff would make his nerves worse, but water would be appreciated.

Logan watched her leave, his portfolio in hand. After five minutes, she returned, with a bottle of water and four copies of his portfolio. She handed him his water and portfolio, then stared at the model. “You made this?” she asked. Logan nodded, a smirk on his face. She whistled. “Well, I’ll be. It’s impressive.”

“Thank you,” he said, feeling his pride swell. He pointed at the entrance. “Took me the whole week just to get that the right size. So thanks for the early email.”

She shrugged. “My job, but you’re welcome.” She moved around the model and poked the model swings. “The detail... You’re some kind of artist, Mr. Howlett.”

“Thanks, again, kiddo. You’re really making this a lot easier--”

“Kiddo?” she asked flatly.

Logan put up his hands; his shit date trained him quickly. “Bad habit. I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Marie.”

“Marie. Nice name.” He put his hands into his pockets. “I meant no disrespect. You just look... real young.” He rubbed his chin and eyed her suspiciously. “You don’t mind my askin’, but where’s the accent from?” he asked, distracting the mishap.

She sighed, her shoulders drooping. “Mississippi. I’ve been trying to drop it, but it’s persistent. Most people notice it when I talk to them for a long time.” She quirked a smile. “Like now.”

“Hey, I know about accents. Some people say I have one.”

Marie furrowed her brows and nodded vigorously. “Yeah, you do!” She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Where you from?”

“Canada, eh.” Marie paused before letting out a loud laugh. She clapped her hands together and Logan was instantly reminded of Remy. “Hey, keep it down! I don’t want them knowing about my bacon,” he joked. Marie grabbed her stomach, laughing harder. He furrowed his brows and frowned for her benefit but it was kind of nice making her laugh so hard. Just from their brief interaction, Logan knew she was a sweet kid.

When she finally calmed down, she clapped Logan on the shoulder. “Oh, I’m putting in a good word for you.” She glanced at the wall clock and straightened up. “And just in time. Lemme go get them.”

Logan nodded and opened his bottle of water. He took three deep gulps and practiced his breathing exercises. He closed his eyes, trying to get into a relaxed state, but his heart was racing. It was now or never. The glass door opened and Marie stepped aside, holding the door open.

The mayor rolled through first, his trademark smile plastered on his face. Logan didn’t vote for the guy, but if he had, it would’ve been for Charles Xavier. The bald man hadn’t said a word to Logan and it was still nice. Logan just figured Charles had a naturally calming presence. “Hello, Mr. Howlett.”

“Logan, please.” Logan stuck out his hand and shook it. “It’s a--” He looked up and felt sick. Recovering quickly, he looked back at the mayor, but it was too late-- the mayor was glancing over his shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, Logan, let me extend the courtesy-- I never did like the honorific. It’s so... stuffy. Call me Charles.”

“Charles,” Logan mumbled, forcing his eyes to stay on the mayor. “Right.”

The mayor’s smile persisted. “Shall we begin?” The mayor’s two other advisors quickly sat down, never once introducing themselves. Not that it was necessary. For one thing, they sat in front of little nameplates and secondly- it was her. Even if Logan never spoke to the other guy, he could always talk to her... Not that he would.

“To start, thank you for meeting with me.” Logan glanced at her; she wasn’t looking at him, more focused on the proposal. He tried to not take it personally. It was a business setting and this was her job. But how the fuck did she not know it was him? Dragging his eyes from her, he began his speech.

Fifteen minutes in, she spoke.

“Mr. Howlett, could you explain your model?” she asked, still not looking up. She wrote something down, the pen making a subtle scratching noise. When she stopped scribbling, she looked up. The look in her eyes... It was like she didn’t even know him.

Professional, Logan. This is her job.

“Well, when I heard that this was an initiative to help inner city kids, I knew the schools would be a focus. I checked out the area--”

“You physically went yourself or you sent someone else?” she asked, her voice flat and immediate.

“I went myself. Did some research, too...” He opened his leather binder and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to her. “I found that the history of the place wasn’t all bad. In fact, there used to be a park. You’d never know since they knocked it down to make more apartment complexes, but yeah.” He fought the nagging in the back of his mind. “And when I went there, I noticed there wasn’t a park anywhere close. The nearest one was maybe twenty minutes away. Now it don’t--doesn’t!” he corrected. Shit. “Doesn’t,” he continued, “seem like much, but kids get kidnapped all the time and nobody wants to know what happens after that.”

She didn’t flinch, nod, or smile. She just blinked, wrote something down, then looked back up at him. The mayor, however, nodded. Logan hadn’t even noticed the other advisor. The guy was almost forgettable.

“So I thought I’d build a better playground for the young kids. Not just a steel swing set, but some slides, monkey bars, all that.” He turned his model towards her and pointed to a brown patch. “There’s even an area for gardening.” He looked straight into her eyes.

She didn’t. Even. Blink.

Who the fuck was this woman?

She looked down, scribbled something, then looked back up.

“Logan,” started the other advisor, “I’ve been reading your proposal and it seems as though you want to go over our budget by...” he read through the page, “two million. I have to ask: Since you’re asking for more money, are there any plans to make the place more... I suppose environment-friendly is the term I’m getting at.”

Logan read the nameplate in front of the male advisor: Scott Summers. “Well, yeah. I plan on using recycled materials wherever possible, but I want this place to last. I wanna make sure that my job is nothing like the last guy’s. And for that to happen, I’ll have to go over the budget.”

“Yes, but I asked if you planned on making it environmentally friendly,” Scott repeated.

Logan looked at his model, feeling like he was about to lose. Money. People always ever cared about money. “Mr. Summers, I know what you asked, and I meant what I said. If you wanna save the city money in the long run, you’ve gotta make sure the school is in good shape. The building’s gotta be sound-- the current building has cost the students nearly sixty days off from school. Now it don’t seem like much now, but those days add up. Who knows what could’ve been taught? The students the teachers could’ve reached? It was lost because there was molding from bad plumbing, cracked ceilings, and faulty electrical wiring.” Logan paused. “I know I’m asking for more, but those kids are worth it. Because if their schools aren’t good, those teachers will feel it, those students will feel it, and those thugs hanging around the schools will feel it, too. It’s a cycle. And I’m not saying the building is top priority, but it matters.”

Logan glanced at Ororo. He was almost positive she was smiling. When she caught his eyes, she blinked, then began scribbling. Well, Logan figured, it was something.

The room was quiet for a moment, then Charles spoke up. “Thank you, Logan, for your wonderful presentation. It was very interesting,” he said, his smile wider.

Logan shook the mayor’s hand. “Thank you for your time.” He stepped back and watched the advisors follow suit. They stood in perfect unison, and Logan got the sense that they probably carried out every whim the Mayor had; they wore the scent “natural born leader” well. Scott tugged the coat of his jacket smoother and Ororo tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear. She wore it in a bun. Logan liked it better free.

“Mr. Howlett--” Ororo began.

“Logan,” he reminded her.

“Logan,” she said, her voice staying immediate, though this time it was... edged? It was sweet but there was obvious tension behind it. “Thank you for your presentation.” She allowed Logan time to say you’re welcome before stepping away. Scott relayed the same message as Ororo, but Logan wasn’t really paying attention. When they turned to walk away, Logan trailed his eyes on her backside and felt regret for another reason: Her ass was literally perfect.

Marie stepped inside once everyone important left, a brow cocked. She saw the looks Logan gave Ororo. “Mr. Howlett, my associates are meeting with several other businesses this week, so allow them about two weeks time to send you a notification. If two weeks passes and you have not received a message, please feel free to call any one of these numbers...” Marie handed him four embossed cards-- one for the mayor, one for Scott, one for Marie, and finally, one for Ororo-- “though it should be safe to assume that the Mayor has decided to go with another company. But again, if you feel as though there was a communication error, do not hesitate to call.” She stepped back and smiled. “Personally, speaking, I think you did great. The mayor was impressed.”

“Really?” Logan asked, genuinely surprised. “I couldn’t tell. I was more focused on his advisors.”

Marie waved her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about them. Scott will run the numbers but Ororo’s really the one you gotta impress.”

“Yeah?”

Marie nodded. “She and the mayor are like this.” Marie crossed her index and middle finger.

“And do you know if I did?-- impress her, I mean.”

Marie hummed. “Well, she’s hard to read when she’s in business mode, but I think you left a lasting impression on her.” Marie squeezed his bicep and smiled. “Have a good day, Mr. Howlett.”





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