There had been a special request put in for two X-men. Not just any two X-men, actually. Two X-women.

The request had been sent in by a local politician, Alan Adamson, who was looking for some protection at a public event. Apparently, he had received several death threats, and was looking to make sure that they wouldn’t be carried out over the course of his evening - all while bettering his relationship with the X-men.

They had been told to dress formally, since they needed to blend in with the crowd. According to the request, it wouldn’t look good on him if he was the only one there with protection. In addition, according to the outline they had been sent, if Alan’s potential attackers didn’t know about his arrangement, there was a chance that some things would be brought to light.

To Juliette, it all seemed a little bit fishy.

She found it strange that she had been asked to wear a dress on a mission. It felt… wrong, in a way. She didn’t necessarily need to have full range of motion to use her powers, but the skirt and heels would be a little bit of a hinderance.

She stood outside of the given address, wearing a black dress with lace cut-outs. Her partner, a woman named Rebecca Grey, codename Lodestone, was supposed to meet her there at any second, followed by Alan, if everything went according to plan.

The building next to her, which was a sight she had taken in as soon as she arrived, was enormous. It was on the outskirts of New York City, perched on an expansive mass of perfectly-manicured land. The building itself had an old-style feel to it, with aged brick, large windows, and a sort of castle-esque feel. There was a large set of steps out front, which were mostly covered by a large balcony, supported by large pillars. Whatever the event was that was being held there was, it was certainly no laughing matter.

Juliette felt entirely out of place as she waited outside for her companions. She was far from used to attending fancy events, and she didn’t much care for standing alone outside of one. She was simply glad that she, in the very least, had a reason to be doing so.

Nice cars rolled up along the round driveway, dropping off various people in expensive clothing. Each attendee promptly proceeded to enter the building, occasionally shooting a wary glance at the woman loitering outside with no clear directive.

She simply hoped that Rebecca would be there soon, and hopefully before Alan.

January had been an interesting month of adjustment for Rebecca as she returned to a life in New York that was new and different than the one she left behind. She was getting a handle of teaching at the Mansion, she got a clear reminder that the love life she left behind was over, and she was still dealing with a plague of writer’s block. When she was called in to work an X-Mission, Rebecca jumped at the chance to get back to action and don her uniform, thirsty for something more familiar.

It was the redhead’s luck, then, that there was nothing “familiar” about the task assigned to her. The skintight costume she had grown oddly nostalgic of would remain packed away for the night, since she was expected to blend in as a member of a private security detail. While she was not opposed to playing bodyguard for an evening, the whole affair seemed peculiar. Ever a thorough study, Rebecca went over the mission prompt closely. It was only mentioned once in the request, but the politician requesting their protection explicitly mentioned female operatives to assist him. She shuddered inadvertently upon reading that line, but did her best to justify it. He wanted his security to be more subtle, so being tailed by buff men in suits would seem more suspicious than a pair of women? It was a flimsy excuse, but a mission was a mission and she was going to play the role assigned to her.

Rebecca had no issues bringing a dress out of her wardrobe for the evening, but knowing she was going into a potentially dangerous situation, she wished she could wear something that might provide more protection. She was a trained fighter and a powerful mutant in her own right, but there were mental blocks that were tough to overcome after the Ragman incident, so vulnerability was a feeling the Scot avoided. She wore a green strapless dress, because she had often been told it brought out the color in her eyes, (or at least her green eye; she had no clue what it did for the blue one.) The skirt of the dress came down around her knees, partially to offer some freedom of movement to prevent tripping, and partially in case she needed to access the garter holster hidden along her thigh. Once again, vulnerability was not an option for Rebecca Grey.

Rebecca called for a car to bring her to the site of the event, and before they even reached her destination, she realized she was in old money territory. They were on the property before they could spot the building, and when the mansion came into view, it was hard not to be impressed. It certainly gave the Xavier Mansion a run for its money, but this building was not meant to hold rambunctious super-powered students and runaways. This was the world of politics, and honestly? Rebecca preferred the child mutants.

The Uber driver was confused and clearly out of place, driving his (admittedly) nice vehicle past limousines and private, high end vehicles. Rebecca made a note as she stepped out to leave him a large tip to make up for putting him out of his element.

Rebecca glanced around for her potential partner, but it was easy to pick her out of the crowd. The X-women met briefly when their received their assignment to go over procedures and contingencies, but if she had never met Juliette before, she still would have singled out the only person who seemed more uncomfortable and out of place than Rebecca herself.

”Juliette,” she greeted warmly as she approached her teammate to stand there awkwardly in solidarity while they waited for their client. ”Ah dunnae knae abit ye, but Ah hink Eh'd tak' a rampagin' swamp monster ower thes any day.” Not that she had a scenario like that under her belt yet, but after an animated building, the “Sewer King,” and a living island, it certainly sounded in the realm of possibility.

Juliette was caught a little off guard by Rebecca’s thick scottish accent and possibly a little by her dress, even though they had met before. She blinked quickly and then flashed her a quick smile. In her mind, she was going over the fact that it all just seemed slightly impossible that she could go from working the night shift at a hospital to doing… whatever it was that they were doing that night.

She couldn’t help but nod in agreement to Rebecca’s comment. A swamp monster, while probably disgusting and troublesome, would likely be easier to deal with than a party with some guy who had hired out two superpowered women. There would be far less politics, anyway.

“What do you think we’ll be expected to do tonight? I mean, I can’t see us getting that much done in dresses and heels,” she confessed with a hint of a laugh in her voice. She would definitely be losing the shoes if there was any running to be done.

The woman shuddered suddenly as she felt a hand on the small of her back. She turned, her brow furrowed, not sure of what exactly she would see.

The man next to her was mid-height, with short, mousy hair that curled against his scalp. He looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties, and, despite his lack of ability to introduce himself, he was waving at someone and smiling like where he had just put his hand was completely normal.

The brunette blinked slowly, allowing herself a minute to let her eyes sweep the man’s appearance as they reopened. “Excuse me, but I don’t think we’ve met,” she noted icily, biting back more words that wanted desperately to come tumbling out.

“Sorry,” the man turned to her and gave her a practiced smile, “I’m Alan. You’re Juliette, which makes you Rebecca. Yes, I know. A little bit creepy, but I wanted to do my research before meeting you tonight. Let’s head inside.”

Juliette opened her mouth, and then closed it. She was supposed to be protecting the man, but she could already see why he might be subject to death threats. The man was a piece of work.

She raised her eyebrow at Rebecca and stepped forward to lose the hand on her back. She really hoped that the wandering hand wasn’t going to be a trend for the rest of the night.

Juliette was a newer addition to the team who joined during Rebecca’s hiatus, but she was excited to get to know a new team member. There were still some stalwarts around from Rebecca’s days on the squad, but it was disappointing to come back and find many of the familiar faces had taken their leave.

Not to say there was anything wrong with the new faces, least of all Juliette’s. They were close in age if she had to guess, and she was certainly eye-catching, with a gorgeous caramel complexion complimented by beautiful brown hair. It was a struggle some days to figure out if Rebecca was attracted to a woman or if she was envious of her looks, and with Juliette, there may have been a little of both.

The question of what they would be doing was a good one; Rebecca played security on one memorable mission in Budapest, but this was a personal security detail rather than a costumed presence in an otherwise dull diplomatic hearing. ”Hopefully jist tail thes bloke, be oan th' swatch it fur leery weirdos, sneak an hors d'oeuvre ur tois,” she joked, shrugging her bare, freckled shoulders. ”Nae sure whit else we—”

Rebecca stopped mid-sentence when Juliette’s expression turned sour and she turned sharply. The redhead’s head swiveled violently toward the offence behind her, and a hand was already moving toward her knee, ready to pull the hem of her dress up to grab her weapon if the need arose.

While Rebecca was happy to not need her gun just yet, but her mood was no better when she realized what happened. The person placing a hand on Juliette’s back was not some stranger, (or rather, that was not all he was.) She was looking at Alan Adamson, their client for the evening, and already she could feel a sense of regret for taking on the mission.

He already knew their names, having done his “research.” Rebecca was used to being a public figure, so she had long ago come to terms with how much of her life was available online. If anything, she was curious how much research he might have put into his preparation; she struggled to picture the middle-age man sitting at his computer wasting his time watching her personal stories and advice videos.

Mister Adamson was not the only one to do some research. Rebecca looked him up and she was not impressed. His political career was unspectacular, but his stances were… not in line with some of Rebecca’s, to put it lightly. This was the kind of mission where she was going to need to remember to watch her mouth, which she imagined getting more challenging as the night dragged on.

The three walked toward the entrance of the mansion, and Rebecca caught Juliette making a deliberate move to take a quick step forward to free herself from Alan’s wandering hand. Keeping her voice at a level where the politician and Juliette could hear her without getting loud enough to be overheard, she commented, ”Until we gie a handle ay th' surroondings, it's probably best if one ay us stays jist aheid ay ye.” It was easy to justify Juliette moving forward while preserving the man’s (misplaced) pride. ”An' Ah can keep watch frae behin' and—”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted, slowing his own pace so Rebecca was (begrudgingly) forced to walk alongside him. “We will not be a spectacle. You’ll just stay close so nothing seems out of the ordinary. And, you know, keep an eye out for trouble,” he added, seemingly as an afterthought. His tone was condescending, and Rebecca was already concerned for the direction of their night. Ah thooght we waur supposed tae watch fur leery weirdos, nae escort one.

((Miss Grey’s Translator Corner: oan th’ swatch it= on the look out))

Juliette ground her teeth in her mouth at the man's next response. She had been grateful to Rebecca for trying to make the fact that she had stepped away from his reach look natural, but apparently it had been ineffective at deterring him. The man was still insistent on walking with them instead of near them.

They had just met the man, and already he was on bad footing. What kind of man would hire a private security detail and then treat them as dates?

Juliette hung back from her place in front of them, not wanting Rebecca to be forced to endure the cruel and unusual punishment alone. She could already see a look in Alan’s eyes, and his hands were anywhere but at his sides. He didn’t look to be someone that got a lot of actual interaction with other people.

She walked beside the two of them, just far enough away to avoid any touching, but close enough to still be labelled as ‘entering together’. She had no plans to move closer.

Juliette shot a look toward Rebecca, trying to gauge where she was at with the whole thing. Perhaps the brunette was just being overly sensitive and making things out to be worse than they were? She doubted it strongly, but it was possible.

Before long they had reached the top of the seemingly never ending staircase. There was a man standing next to either door with a list held out, allowing people to enter as they approached.

“Stay next to me. I technically only have a plus-one, but you two are small and unintrusive enough to count as one, right? I can count on you not to make a scene?” Alan McAsshole laughed to himself, as if the thought of them doing something so… unfeminine was absurd.

Juliette raised her eyebrows at him incredulously. “Well, we are here to protect you, aren’t we? There’s not much we can do if that happens to end in a spectacle.” She wanted to say more, but she figured that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Plus, Alan had already begun to speak to one of the men.

It might have been Rebecca’s imagination, but she could have almost sworn she heard the gnashing of Juliette’s teeth as she fell back in line with her and Alan. It was nice to know Rebecca was not the only one with a growing discomfort over their assignment for the evening. She wanted to hope for the best, but it was difficult when she was pretty sure she had yet to see the politician’s eyes as they were always hanging somewhere below her and Juliette’s necks.

Following Juliette’s lead, Rebecca wanted to keep herself just out of hand’s reach by their escort for the evening. Genuinely, she would have preferred to move over to her teammate’s side, but even she knew realistically that to play a protective role, it made more sense to flank Alan.

When the man was distracted, Rebecca caught Juliette’s look and tried not to laugh. If she was suffering, at least she was not doing it alone. Trying to be subtle, she replied with a very slight nod, tilting her head to the side to gesture at Alan before rolling her eyes. Subtlety was not Rebecca’s strongest suit, (which was once again why she questioned how the hell she was put on a covert mission.)

Thankfully, as she previously noted, the man was not paying much mind to her eyes and was oblivious to her signing. His attention did return to them as they approached the doors into the event. He spoke to them again, and again, his tone carried the weight of someone who believed they were in charge and had to talk down to everyone else. She questioned if it was specifically him being sexist or just a general side effect of his ego, but both sounded so plausible, she could not pick.

He referred to them as his “plus one” and made some weird comment about it not being a problem. He wanted them to “count as one” and “not make a scene,” the latter of which was sounding more appealing by the second.

Juliette questioned their ability to avoid a scene, and her frustration was peeking through her voice. If they were going to make it through the night, maybe they had to find a way to ease their own personal tensions. Donning a smile she was trying to keep from becoming a grin, she joked, ”Coont as one, sure. If need be, Ah'll jist be sure tae hauld Juliette close.” Alan was already choosing to focus more on the men at the door, but Rebecca was looking past him anyway when she delivered the line. If he was going to stare at their chests and asses all night, someone had to look Juliette in those pretty eyes, and that was a job Rebecca was more ready for than their actual mission.

Looking over at the other woman lowered Rebecca’s guard for a second, which was just enough time for Manhands McDouchecanoe to wrap his arm around her waist, his grip hanging on to her side. She shuddered at the touch, but remembered it best not to make a scene. (Not because he told her, but because she was a goddamn professional, whether or not he chose to respect that.) “Oh, women can make such silly comments,” he said to the men with a chuckle, having not actually heard a word of what Rebecca said. “Come along, ladies.”

As they walked into the large ballroom, Rebecca shot Juliette a look of her own. If only she were a telepath, she could convey how badly his hand and the way he said “ladies” made her want to take a shower in acid.

Juliette couldn’t help but snicker at Rebecca’s comment. She assumed that she wasn’t serious at first, but as she met the different coloured eyes staring directly back at her, she couldn’t help but blush. Rebecca was staring… Very intently, talking about holding her… It was probably just to throw McDouche off track, she decided. It was a good plan. A very good plan.

The spell was broken as Alan appeared behind them again and wrapped his arm around Rebecca’s waist. There was an obvious shudder that went through the woman, and Juliette immediately felt a pang of sympathy. The guy was absolutely awful, and he seemed to have no concept of personal space.

She narrowed her eyes darkly at his next statement, finding it increasingly difficult not to want to leave suddenly. However, she had agreed to do the event, and she was supposed to be protecting the man, so she would do just that. Even if it meant protecting him from herself.

Juliette caught the look that Rebecca shot her as they entered the ballroom and reciprocated it. In the very least, they weren’t alone in the ordeal. There was someone to share in the pain, and perhaps someone there to get drinks with when it was all over, and some to dish all the snide remarks that they had been holding in.

The ballroom that they had just entered was marvelous. It had high ceilings, large, arching windows, marble features, and a general feel of money. The room was filled with grand circular tables, mostly gathered near a stage. At the back, there was an area for mingling, but it seemed to be a bit of a taboo to spend too much time there. Most people went straight to their assigned seats and began to talk to the people they had been seated with.

“We’re over here, loves,” Alan told them, confidently striding to a table near the front. “Some of the best seats in the house.”

Juliette rolled her lips in to keep her upper lip from curling at the word ‘loves’. She followed him to the table and took a seat, allowing her chair to stay just a little farther away than she would have kept it from anyone else.

“What did you say this event was, again?” She asked, looking around at the party attendees. Most of them looked as though they came from wealthy backgrounds, and the few that didn’t appeared charismatic enough to hold their own in the sea of important faces. It did not look anything like any party that Juliette had ever attended.

“It’s a gala held by a local senator to thank everyone who’d supported him politically or financially over the last election. A real stand-up thing to do, actually. He’s good people. Real salt of the earth type. Someone I’d definitely be looking at if I were in the market for a husband, if you know what I mean. Too bad he’s married, though. I guess you two lovelies will just have to settle for the next best options.”

Cue the obviously planned wink.

Rebecca’s comment earned a blush from Juliette, which made her bold tease worth it. Juliette was a beautiful woman, and after a complicated mess of an evening spent reconnecting with Agnes, maybe it was just refreshing to be playful and flirtatious. She wanted to be sure she did not make Juliette uncomfortable; it was cheeky, harmless flirting, but not every straight girl took those jokes in stride, and the last thing Rebecca wanted to be was “the predatory gay.” Still, Juliette laughed and smiled, so everything seemed fine for the moment.

Walking into the ballroom, Rebecca had never been so aware of her net worth. She questioned whether she could pull together the money required to buy one of the tables positioned close to the stage. It was the type of event in the type of location she would never be able to afford getting into, but that did not mean she felt “special” to have been invited there by Adamson. Maybe she was becoming predisposed to finding fault with the man, but she resented him once more now for putting her in a situation where she felt so hopelessly out of place. She felt like an element of control was taken out of her hands, and Rebecca was not a fan of ceding control.

The man of the group led them to one of the tables closest to the stage, clearly proud of the location his—reputation? Influence? Rebecca did not care—his whatever garnered him at the gathering. ”Hm. Frae a security standpoint, Ah’m nae a fan ay sae mony folk positioned behin—”

“Now, now.” Adamson interrupted, (which was apparently a talent of his.) His tone was that of a father scolding his daughter, and his brow was furrowed as though he was frustrated by her insistence on doing her job. “Stop worrying your pretty little head about things like that.”

Rebecca had to assume her face and ears were growing red, because she certainly felt heat. She wanted to respond to the (incredibly) demeaning comment, but she reminded herself (multiple times) the importance of not starting a scene, and even if she did not care, she had no words for that. Instead, she just compelled herself to replaced her dumbfounded look with a forced smile. The moment his eyes looked somewhere else, she looked at Juliette, her eyes widening and nostrils flaring. Incredulous. It was the best word to describe her, because she was still struggling with her disbelief over their assignment.

At the table, they took their seats, and as much as she wanted to sit next to Juliette (and whisper snarky, bitter comments,) she knew there was no point. Even from a security perspective, it made the most sense for both of them to be at his side. All she could do was follow Juliette’s lead and try to move her seat as far as the space would allow her, which was sadly minimal thanks to the amount of chairs set at the table.

Juliette asked about the nature of the party, and for all her research, Rebecca had only been able to identify it as a “Political Gala.” Adamson was happy to educate them on the man of the hour as only a politician could. Everything was a buzzword and nothing substantial was provided to explain who they were actually in the company of.

It would have been nice if the explanation was left at just vague, shallow compliments, but as was becoming apparent, Adamson could only keep the attention off himself for so long. The way he called them “lovelies” made Rebecca want to gag, though not as much as his wink that apparently implied he considered himself “the next best option.” The only way she could see that being true was if the senator was dumpster fire that gained sentience.

Rebecca should hold her tongue. It was the smart thing to do.

”Ah dornt hink Ah’m th' marryin' sort. At leest, nae lookin' fur a husband,” she said, glancing over in Juliette’s direction, which the man was unfortunately oblivious to. It was a lie; Rebecca always saw herself getting married, and while she felt like her life was recently dominated by pretty women, the Scot was decidedly bisexual. That did not mean she wanted Adamson to have any impression she was looking to be a trophy wife. ”But that's a shame; Ah’m sure ye tois woods hae gart a handsome coople.” She smiled innocently, (or tried to anyway.)

Juliette grinned at Rebecca’s comments, slightly jealous of how well she had just deflected the demeaning tone from the politician. While Juliette didn’t necessarily share her sentiment about marriage, she nodded heartily anyway, wanting to convey to Alan that she wasn’t interested under any condition.

She snickered quietly at the jab Rebecca had made about the two politicians, trying to cover her laughter with a sip of water. Alan apparently hadn’t understood what she was insinuating, since he merely shook his head at the two women and their strange reactions.

“Thanks for the offer, but I seem to have enough luck on my own without having to resort to people that need my protection,” Juliette added once she had finished laughing at her companion’s comment. Alan shot her an angry look, but was unable to say anything before several people sat down at the table.

“Adamson! It’s been ages! How’ve you been?” A balding man whose suit was stretched in order to button up around the middle stuck his hand across the table for Alan to shake. A frail woman who looked as though she had aged beyond her years took a seat beside him silently.

Alan raised from his chair to greet the newcomer and took his hand with a large smile. “Kellan! It has been far too long! I’ve been doing great, and yourself?”

The two men continued on with the small talk for a few more seconds and retook their seats. Not a single mention or glance was issued toward the other occupants of the table before Kellan glanced over at the two seated women and let out a low whistle.

“Alan, you sly dog. Are these both yours?”

Unsurprisingly, Alan missed the point of Rebecca’s comment, choosing only to shake his head, but Juliette was more receptive. Her teammate took a sip of her water in an attempt to cover her immediate giggly response, but Rebecca caught the moment and smirked proudly.

Rebecca felt proud of her soon-to-be friend when Juliette deflected Alan’s “subtle” advance with a somehow less subtle comment hinting that she could do better. The redhead had to agree; Juliette was gorgeous, and she was showing off some wit, which already placed her several miles out of Alan’s league. The man was rigid, creepy, and oblivious to their impeccable humor. In fact, if it would not lead to a political disaster, Rebecca would have been sorely tempted to completely ignore the man’s existence for the rest of the night and converse only with the one appealing person in the large room.

Not everyone shared her opinion of Alan Adamson (somehow,) as an older man approached the table to greet him warmly. He sat at the table along with his wife, who Rebecca instinctually felt sympathy for; had she not been keen to avoid watching the two men, the wife’s entrance could have been completely missed. She was quiet to the point where she might have had some mutant ability to hide her presence completely, but more likely, she had just practiced how to be the silent partner for far too long.

While Alan chatted with the man apparently named Kellan, Rebecca leaned over the empty seat their “date” had temporarily stepped out of to get within whispering range of Juliette. ”Ah micht hae tae hae words wi' whoever is responsible fur mission assignments efter thes.” There were public relations missions, and then there was accidentally turning to X-Men into escorts. The team needed to start screening these missions more closely. ”Yoo're th' only redeemin' feature ay thes nicht.”

Juliette was definitely on the short list of positives about the night. Pretentious people, alcohol she should likely avoid drinking on the job, and Mister McGrabbyhands at her side. Rebecca needed to keep her eye on the silver lining, which was easier to do when the silver lining was pretty. ”Eh'd be havin' much mair fin if thes divit woods—”

Speaking of the divit, Rebecca’s comment was sadly interrupted by the divit’s friend making a statement that genuinely made her question what decade they were in. The impulse not to be rude was weaker than the impulse to audibly scoff at the question. ”Ah dornt fancy myself anybody's, thenk ye kindly.”

Alan’s face contorted at her tone, but he forced a smile through gritted teeth to keep up appearances. “Oh Rebecca, so… strong-willed,” he said, trying to pass the trait off as a positive despite his frustration.

Rebecca was repeating “Don’t start a scene” in her mind on a loop, but her mouth and her better judgment had a history of being at odds with each other.

Juliette nodded with a slight sigh. She didn’t know exactly how missions were distributed among team members, but she was pretty sure that either Sam or Cafas probably had a hand in things. She would definitely be speaking to someone when they got back to the mansion.

“Back at you,” Juliette admitted after hearing Rebecca’s comment. She felt the same as she seemed to; the only good part of that night seemed to be them having met and bonded. For some strange reason, though, Rebecca’s comment had made her blush a little. She figured that she was imagining things, so she brushed it off and forced herself to glance back at Alan and his new companion.

The woman’s mouth actually opened in disbelief at Kellan’s question. Were they his? Were they his?

A bit of her thunder was stolen by the ever vivacious Rebecca, but Juliette didn’t mind. She felt similarly, although if she had said something first, it likely would have been a lot less polite, and Alan seemed to be having a lot of problems with what Rebecca said already.

The straight face that Juliette had been trying so hard to maintain turned in a deep frown, and she glanced between the two men. “We’re accompanying him, but I don’t think that owning someone’s been legal since 1865. Perhaps Black History Month will be a good time for you to get a refresher?” She wanted desperately to say more, to take Alan down another few notches, but she held herself back. She was worried that she might blow the already shaky cover of their assignment.

Alan coughed loudly and glared at Juliette. “Yes, well, these two are beautiful, but they seem to have terrible mouths on them. Someone will come up with a cure for that someday.”

“So long as they never come up with a cure for misogyny,” Juliette added icily under her breath and shot a look toward Rebecca.

Kellan laughed across the table, and his wife gave a sort of forced laugh beside him. It looked to be purely a show of solidarity. “You’ve always had an eye for the lively ones, haven’t you? They just need to be broken in a little bit. I mean, look at my Lena. Always polite. Always pretty. That’s how they don’t get wrinkles, you know. Staying quiet and not worrying.”

Lena offered the people at the other end of the table a sad little half smile when her name was mentioned, and then went back to a rather dormant look. To Juliette, she just seemed tired.

It was nice to have a small moment of camaraderie with Juliette before their evening was intruded upon again by their assignment. Rebecca, to her credit, thought she did a remarkable job keeping her response to acceptable levels of sass. Juliette… may have pushed that line.

Rebecca was not well-versed in American history, but she was smart enough to put together the context of Juliette’s reference. Watching as a woman of color told two rich white politicians she would not be “owned” by anyone caught the foreigner off guard. Foolishly taking a sip of her water, she unintentionally snorted and coughed the liquid back out into the cup, fighting desperately to fight a laugh.

The comments were not received well by the table, who had no answer for the pointed statement. The X-Women were going over like a lead balloon at the table of political players. Alan tried to save face by pointing out how beautiful his dates were, while insulting their opinions. As a mutant and a queer girl, Rebecca cringed at the man claiming there should be a “cure” for her. She was reaching the point where she no longer cared to hold her tongue and measure her responses.

Juliette evidently beat her to that point, calling out the men’s behavior for what it was: misogyny. No longer caring to hide behind the veil of politeness Juliette had already discarded, Rebecca replied with a loud, ”HA!” that drew attention for nearby tables momentarily, much to the chagrin of Alan and Kellan.

Kellan responded with a laugh of his own, and his sidekick weakly backed him up. As much as she disliked Alan on a personal level for putting her in this position, she was growing to hate Kellan purely on his view of women. Everything about his words made her feel less like a person and more like a mare. Owned? Broken? If he made a comment about riding, she was ready to magnetically assault him with all nearby cutlery.

Rebecca did feel bad for Lena, who was being touted as the perfect version of a silent woman. She held no ill will toward the older woman, who was living the life she unfortunately thought she was intended to live. The fiery Scot would have none of it, regardless.

”Is 'at hoo ye avoid wrinkles an’ stay bonnie, then?” she asked, feigning surprise in her voice. ”Odd, coz Jules haur seems keen oan 'spikin 'er min', an' frankly, Ah’m findin' it damn attractife.” Rebecca looked across at Juliette with a toothy grin, making eyes at her obviously enough for the whole table to see. She wanted to make it very clear she was not there for Alan. ”An' nae a wrinkle in secht.”

Rebecca enjoyed the moment of silence while the table overcame their shock.

The table had fallen silent after Rebecca’s comment. Neither of the men seemed to have any sort of snarky response to cover her actions. There it was - one of the would be silent women had just called the other one attractive. Outright. In front of a bunch of male republicans. No one would make eye contact with each other.

Juliette glanced at Rebecca, her lips formed into an ‘o’ shape. There had been signs, of course. She had just ignored them. It made total sense, though, and Juliette couldn’t help but blush. “Thank you,” she replied quietly, too flustered for anything snappy.

Rebecca was gorgeous. There was no denying that fact, and if Juliette hadn’t already been in a relationship, she definitely would have been her type. The woman averted her eyes and took a sip of water, trying to figure out how the rest of the night would play out after that.

Luckily, they didn’t have too long to stew over that revelation, as the stage was quickly occupied. A man who would fit in the same categories as Kellan - middle aged, balding, a bit of a belly, and oh so white - took centre stage.

“Esteemed guests, I want to thank you all so much for joining me tonight! Most of you know me, but for those who don’t, I’m Senator John Mandel. Guests, without your support, my campaign and reelection would not have been possibilities! I greatly appreciate all of the time and effort that you have all given to ensure the success of this term.”

Mandel rambled for a while and Juliette was able to tune most of the speech out, until a keyword found its way into her ears.

“By the end of my term, I promise that I will have done everything in my power to minimize the mutant problem, and hopefully progress the spread. By this time in four years, we could be looking at a mutant-low New York! Anyway, enough politics for now. Tonight's a night to celebrate, to network, to dine, and of course, to donate to the US Army!”

Juliette felt her eyes bulge slightly and she turned her head at a slow, steady pace to look at Alan. “Are you kidding me?” She hissed under her breath, “you brought two known mutants to an anti-mutant party?”

Alan simply sipped his wine and shrugged, still refusing to meet her eyes. “I didn’t know he would bring it up.”

Rebecca felt a perverse pride at the table’s reaction to her comment. While she had not looked previously looked up Kellan, his affiliation with Alan and their pre-established issues with womankind were enough to surmise a guess about the gala’s political stance. When she arrived to America as a foreign exchange student, Rebecca was usually oblivious to politics, but she had enough time to finally acclimate. She held no ill will to all Republicans in general, but she was firmly against most aspects of social conservatism, and was not afraid to butt head when necessary. Some of the conservatives she had met were actually good for a spirited discussion, but there was no discussion to be had with those who built their stance on seeing others as lesser beings.

She was more than willing to guess what kind of Republicans she was dining with that night. Alan’s surprise was disappointing, because he clearly did no research when picking her as a date. Online, she was out and open about her bisexuality—her coming out story was one of her most viewed videos, for goodness sake! If he was feeling embarrassed, he had no one to blame but himself.

If Juliette was feeling embarrassed… well, that one was on Rebecca. She chose to make a bold, abrasive comment that put a spotlight on her fellow X-Man. Juliette was already blushing through her makeup, clearly just now realizing that Rebecca was not just being complimentary, she was being genuinely flirty. Maybe the Scot’s gaydar was busted after all, and the pretty young woman was straight. She wondered if she should tone back her behavior; as fun as it was frustrating politicians, she did not be the kind of girl who would make a friend uncomfortable.

Thankfully for Rebecca, before anyone else at the table could find the energy to speak, the host of the evening came up to the stage. Senator John Mandel’s name sounded familiar, but Rebecca could not place why exactly. He bragged and thanked his constituents and colleagues for their support, did plenty of typical political posturing with flowery language while reiterating stances and recalling victories…

And then the term “mutant problem” sent a chill down Rebecca’s spine. That was where she had heard the name. Mandel was an outspoken anti-mutant presence in the Senate, happy to use fear mongering and division to push an agenda. Hell, thinking back, she was pretty sure he had been mentioned by name in one of her rant videos about mutant perception in America.

Rebecca was not the only one put off by the speech, as she watched Juliette glare at the man sitting between the two mutants. Her voice was dripping with contempt as she pointed out the obvious terrible decision Alan made bringing them along.

His response was… less than adequate. ”Yoo're screwin' wi' me, reit?” Rebecca did her best to keep her voice down, so every word sounded growled. ”It's loch, half his political platf'rm.”

Glancing down next to her glass of water, Rebecca spotted the glass of white wine she had thus far left untouched. No longer caring that she was “on the clock,” so to speak, she felt justified in grabbing the glass by the stem and taking a sip. A long sip. Specifically, she downed the contents of the glass before returning to the conversation.

Rebecca stood from her seat, taking a deep breath to calm down her disgust. She spoke in an even tone and a hushed volume, so the prying ears of Kellan could not catch exactly what she was saying. ”'At was th' only way Ah coods convince myself nae tae flin' 'at in yer face.” On the mental scales of judgment, Rebecca deemed drinking a whole glass of wine to be more professional than throwing said wine in a man’s face. ”Ah’m gonnae step awa' fur a moment. Tae keep an eye out fur threats. Seems they’re everywhaur.” Before the man could object, Rebecca was walking toward the open area in the back of the room. She had no intention of mingling, but did remain hopeful that she might cross paths with someone carrying a drink tray. It was going to be a long night.

It seemed that Rebecca and Juliette had been on the same wavelength for the whole evening. Right after Juliette had erupted, Rebecca had stood up and followed in a similar, though even more outraged, suit. If not for the very obvious respect that they held for each other, it would have looked as though they were trying to one-up one another.

The redhead even went as far as to stand up from the table and leave it. Juliette tried to keep her face straight, but ultimately failed. The corners of her mouth twitched and moved upwards in a sort of proud half-smile. She had thought she would even throw the wine in Alan’s face, but instead she downed the whole thing. It was probably a smarter move in the end, but perhaps slightly disappointing.

Juliette watched at Rebecca departed, feeling entirely less confident without her mission partner. She would have followed after her, but it was clear that she needed time to blow off steam, and leaving would mean that Alan, aka the person they were meant to be protecting, would be alone. Despite the treatment they were receiving, she wasn’t really to completely abandon the mission just yet.

She glanced over at where Rebecca had disappeared off to, ever so slightly irked that she had been left to fend for herself. She couldn’t blame her, but it wasn’t fun to be the one to have to deal with the aftermath.

Alan was fuming. That much was certain. He grabbed Juliette by the wrist, making her whip her head back around to look at him, and forced her closer with an angry pull. “I don’t know what kind of stunts you and your little friend are trying to pull, but I’m not having any more of it. You’re here to look pretty and keep your mouths shut, not to make me look bad.” His voice was hushed so that no one else could hear him, and he kept glancing back toward the other people that sat down at the table.

Juliette glared at him through narrowed eyes. She had resigned to staying seated, but that didn’t mean that she would stay silent like Lena. “I thought we were here to protect you, or was that just a ruse to get us here because you couldn’t get a date? Besides, you may not be having any of this, but you don’t really have much of a choice, do you? We can leave whenever we want to. You’re not even paying us.” She was so glad that he wasn’t, too. It would have made her feel dirty if he had been.

Alan turned red, and opened his mouth to argue, but their table filled quickly with carbon copies of the other politicians that they’d already had the pleasure of meeting. The one next to Rebecca’s seat began to strike up some small talk with Alan, distracting him from his anger. For that, Juliette was thankful. She was reaching the end of her rope with the man, and without someone else at the table to share exasperated looks with, she was worried that she would say something that she would really regret.

The brunette reached forward for her water glass, and grabbed the wine glass in front of her instead, copying what Rebecca had done. She took a long sip, offering a small smile while doing so to the politician trying to greet her rather than engaging in an actual conversation. She just hoped that Rebecca would rejoin them quickly.