This was not her first rodeo. It was, however, her first substantial lead in tracking down the fabled human enhancement drug, Ambrosia. Food of the gods that, for a night, would make you one. What human wouldn't want to know what their powers could have been? What person in power wouldn't want to have just that much more?

There were several street knock-offs, all cut with what was more commonly known. June had seen the consequences of those particular substances and that was not what she'd been ordered to find.

What Miranda chose to do with her evenings was not June's concern. What was her concern was that she'd scheduled Ms. Streep's non-negotiable 11 o'clock tomorrow morning over mimosas. Her boss needed to be able to function the next day when important decisions still had to be made.

June made sure her credentials were in order before she approached the line for the brick and mortar club.

"Hey!" Someone complained behind her. The teen turned and noted the obvious continuation of a queue. "Back of the line's around the block."

Impassively she took a quick estimation of what that meant. She didn't have that much time or patience for doing something so stupid for what was likely a dead end.

Okay, then. Plan B.

June stepped out of the queue and around to the red velvet rope that marked the line between who entered the plain wooden doors and went into those watery depths. There lingered a suitably beefy wall of bouncer.

"I'm here to meet a friend." Her soft Parisian accent accompanied a hand against the man's chest with a folded $50. That was more money than she should be spending on this leg of the errand, but she needed to fulfill this impossible task to assure Ms. Streep that she could be relied on in all things. "Would it be possible for me to go inside and wait?"

Together with the total head to toe designer packaging and a fake ID, it was enough.

June snapped the edges of her jacket taut so that they wouldn't slap against her corset as she jogged down the stairs and into the cool embrace of the underwater club. So. Where to start...? It wasn't like she could just walk up to the bar and order, Hello, I'd like one drug, please. Oh. It's not for me so I'll take it to go. Thanks. Perhaps, she would start by listening in to a few minds...

Maxwell sipped his drink and watched the crowd from his booth. Atlantis was as crowded tonight as usual. The blue lights filled the place and Maxwell watched as a small group of fish swam by the glass wall across from him. Maxwell straightened his tie. Ahh Friday nights. He didn't have any hearings in the morning so an evening out seemed in order.

The DJ played on the stage framed by waterfalls and Maxwell felt his head bobbing slightly to the music. He had once had an immense interest in music. Even now he donated to the theater and went to shows if he could. In his early teens he had dreamed of the stage. Foolish dreams. The path not taken.

He finished his drink and made his way to the bar. He was careful as he passed through the crowd. A beautiful Italian three peice suit should not meets it's end at the hands of a clumsy club goer. He made it to the bar and ordered a replacement.

What to do what to do? Jorge was busy tonight, as was Devon and that left Maxwell with few options for companionship. He was tense, the thrill seeker in him on edge. Was tonight a bust? He scanned the crowd and shook his head. Of course not. There was good music, drinks, and plenty of good looking men and women. He would just have to entertain himself somehow.

'Okay. If I were selling drugs, what would I look like?'

Young? Or old? Tall? Or short? Well dressed seemed to be a common theme for all involved, so it wasn't like June could go find the guy in the dumpy hooded sweater sitting in the corner. She did, however, move closer to the musician to get a read on the people at the tables.

There were mutants there. She could vaguely feel her power's pull toward a few individuals, but June kept her power in check, instead releasing the barest tendril of mental power to pick through the surface thoughts of those that were sitting.

She suspected them all to be rather innocent considering their centralized and exposed location. She'd wanted to discount them. Instead, June found herself turning away and sliding into one of the few available spaces at the bar when her borrowed psychic power touched on the mind of another psychic who was also sweeping the room.

June immediately turned all her attention to the man in front of her so that her mind wouldn't tip him off that it'd been her inside his head.

His hair was short brown and trimmed, a three piece suit with an adequate make and an excellent fit, he appeared to be brooding. Or thinking. Or on the prowl.

"Hello there." She smiled up at him, already in his personal space. But being a girl and being well dressed meant that more often than not, others did not mind. "No one is dancing. Do you sink you could help me change zat?" June offered her hand to the man and doe eyes. People were terrible, but one man could be compliant, she'd found.

Sometimes the immediacy of a payoff on a thought was one of the most satisfying feelings in the world. Maxwell had no sooner contemplated how he was going to find something to entertain him this evening when he heard a voice speak beside him. He took a drink and glanced at the girl talking to him.

She was right beside him, closer than most people would get to a stranger. She was short and thin, in a good way. He gave an appreciative glance at her corset and long legs. She seemed a bit young for the club, but Maxwell wasn't a bouncer, it wasn't his job to ID people. If the girl came here wanting to be treated like an adult well he could definitely oblige.

She asked him to dance, extending him her hand. He gave a small smile. Dancing wasn't really Maxwell's thing, but he had done quite a lot of it in his teens. Some skills simply didn't go away. Besides being competent on the dance floor was useful, people liked someone who could dance and in today's day and time it was akin to a mating ritual of the days of old.

He slid out of his tailored jacket in one quick move and placed it on the bar. He gave the bartender a look that said "Watch this for me." And the bartender nodded back.

"Of course. Why not give them a show." He said.

He recognized her ascent as French. Ooh-La-La, and took her hand to lead her to the dance floor. The DJ was blasting a quick rythmatic song and as Maxwell made it to the pulsating blue dance floor he began to move with the music. Subtle small motions, it was always best to guage a partner before deciding how to proceed on the dance floor.

She was so caught up in trying to not think about the psychic and then to get a beard for her foray onto the dance floor, that June didn't realize that the man she'd chosen was a mutant. At least, she didn't realize it until he put his hand into hers. Like a mild electric shock, June's spine stiffened. She was good with her power, carefully practiced. But touch made things so much harder.

He was young. Part of the reason why she'd chosen him, though honestly June would dance with just about anyone at this moment. But young meant he might have certain expectations of her. June hadn't exactly gone through the normal process of growing up. She was trying not to get in over her head here.

And she found that, once on the dance floor, she didn't quite know what to do with herself. She tried to emulate what he was doing, but it was clear that she was not confident. It didn't help, either, that she was clinging to her powers of telepathy and trying to also probe to discover which seated patron was the other psychic.

It... wasn't this guy, right?

Disappointed in herself, June sighed while trying to laugh off her utter lack of dance moves. "I'm not so good at zis, I think." It was utterly disheartening to not be good at everything because she definitely strove for perfection.

As Maxwell danced across from the girl his mind whirled into business mode. He was exceptionally good at reading people, or at least he liked to think so. Part of being a good lawyer was being able to gather information from watching someone, spotting tells and motivations and exploiting them. This girl was setting off alarms.

She had seemed tense when he took her hand to go dance, if only for a moment. She had asked him to dance, yet as he watched her moving about on the lighted floor she seemed uneasy, almost uncomfortable with the situation.

-"I'm not so good at zis, I think."

She said it with a self depreciating laugh and Maxwell returned with a light chuckle. He watched her eyes and she seemed distracted like her focus was split. He found himself intrigued.

"It takes practice, or a good partner." He said with a million dollar smile.

He took a step closer to her, replicating her own move of invading personal space and continued to dance. Keeping as much eye contact as possible.

"I didn't catch your name. Do you come to Atlantis often? I haven't seen you here before." He asked.

Yes. This was exactly what she had feared. He smiled. June frowned.

She had chosen one that was too forward and too engaged. In fact, he moved forward and engaged her quite closely. At this point June didn't have to try at dancing, when he moved his hips, hers moved as well.

Her discomfort ratcheted up a step and for the moment, her task of identifying the psychic was forgotten. June worked in fashion. It was, for the most part, a "look, but don't touch" industry. The looks she could deal with. The aggressive eye contact and dancing was entirely foreign... Unless... Unless he wanted something and this was his way of getting that.

Ah. It clicked into place then. He wanted her body. That was something that she could work with. The trick was to tease just enough and never give in. She had seen it done. Surely she could do it too.

"Violette." She remembered the name on her fake ID just in time and moved her hands from sort of doing something dance-like to touching the front of his shirt indicating reciprocated interest. "It is my first time." She let her shyness show to play up the innuendo. That was a game she could play. Especially if this man left his thoughts unguarded.

"You sound like you might be a regular." Perhaps this was a better avenue to pursue. If he was a regular, perhaps he knew something or had seen something.

She placed her hand on Maxwell's chest as she gave her name and he gave a smile. She introduced herself as Violette, such a lovely name.

"Maxwell." He responded, continuing his dancing.

She made her remark about it being her first time and his ears perked up. There were plenty of undertones in her statement and Maxwell found it intriguing. It was not surprising to him really, he had always had his pick of people.

She asked him if he was a regular. The question felt like it held weight but was offered off handedly. It was a familiar tactic he himself used frequently. His logical brain cried for him to be leery, his other side asked what was the harm. He decided on somewhere in the middle.

"I've come here a time or two. I'm old friends with some of the management," He provided, "I'm far more interested in your story however. What brings a gem like you to a place like this?" He asked.

Old friends with the management? Yes! It seemed to be working! June just had to tickle his ego like he was a client, right? It didn't matter that they were conspiratorially close. She could pretend for a little while that this was okay.

Except that it was not okay.

June's smile faltered a bit as he surprised her by switching up the dance a little bit. He was moving differently and shifting his feet to a new rhythm. It made sense. There was a new song, but it put June back on unsure ground. She had to take a break from his probing eyes and instead noticed that the thread of his shirt had been double stitched. Very sturdy.

"Truths be told, I'm not quite sure. I heard a rumor zat can't possibly be true." Could it? She flicked her eyes back up to her partner's and scrutinized him for a change. Did she dare say it? Maybe not out loud. June had to stop their hypnotic sway and go up on tippy toe to whisper into his ear. "Ambrosia."

"Ambrosia."

The word tumbled into Maxwell's ear and rattled into his brain. It stuck like a missing puzzle piece and he understood what was happening. It was the last detail he needed. Her discomfort with his proximity, her approaching him at the bar, the glances she kept taking to check out the room. Violette wasn't here to hook up, she was here to score.

As the whisper faded in Maxwell's ears he slowed his dancing. He knew the world didn't revolve around him, as much as he hated to admit it, but hearing the girl talk, understanding he was being played to achieve a goal that Maxwell understood completely. He wasn't angry, it wasn't personal it was business. He just needed to adjust his mentality. He smiled but his eyes took on a colder harsher light

Ambrosia was a miracle drug for normal people. Who wouldn't want to experience the power and thrill of having mutations. The irony that the normal people of the world tended to consider mutants freaks was lost on those wanting to get their hands on it.

Of course Atlantis had the stuff. The drug trafficked out of the clubs back much like the river they were currently underneath. Maxwell could get her the drug, that would be simple enough, but what was in it for him? That and her behavior seemed a tad suspicious.

"Rumors can sometimes be true," He said slowly coming to a stop mid dance, "perhaps we should take this conversation to a more private venue. There are rooms in back."

They stopped moving entirely and Maxwell was silent for so long Violette was sure she'd ruined everything. June moved away from his ear to see his face. He'd changed somewhat. From controlled lecherousness to... to what? She didn't understand that look at all. He never responded as she expected him to.

> "Rumors can sometimes be true,"

She inhaled sharply, heart hammering. "So its true?" June had been on the tail of Ambrosia for weeks now; she'd convinced herself that no one sold it pure, but Miranda was convinced. And she'd sent her out tonight, here, just for this moment. "The real...?" She glanced around them and cut herself off so that no one else would overhear.

Miranda was going to flip. She could have a mutant power without the unwanted side effects of having it cut with something else! If they could track it back to the source, perhaps she could buy in bulk and always have a supply on hand. She could be a mutant whenever she wanted, and human whenever not.

> "perhaps we should take this conversation to a more private venue. There are rooms in back."

Yes. If she wanted to talk frankly about buying an illegal substance, it shouldn't be here.

At the same time, June knew what happened to little girls who went into back rooms with older men.

She didn't have to act nervous about the decision. Could she defend herself? It was hard to say... he was a mutant. But so was she. In fact, she was pretty sure her power had already made the switch since June hadn't gotten any surface thoughts from anyone since she'd leaned into him.

Stupid touch.
Stupid Miranda.
Stupid, way too predatory Maxwell.

"I have cash." Maybe she could funnel him to the material needs rather than physical? "Let's go."

Maxwell chuckled lightly as the girl informed him that she had cash. It showed her inexperience with matter such as this. Obviously she had not done this kind of thing before. But everyone must start somewhere he supposed. He made his way through the crowd and towards the back hallway. Two bouncers gaurdered the hall, but Tom and James were good guys. They gave Maxwell a polite nod as he led Violette past them. The hallway had a number of doors and Maxwell looked for one with the red "occupied" light off. He found one almost at once and turned to face Violette.

"I'm not interested in your cash, that's for someone else to handle. I find the currency of information far more useful." He said opening the door.

The room was decorated in the same manner as the club. A bar stood to the side of the room, a stripper pole was placed in the back near a bed. There was a seating area with a couch coffee table and a number of chairs. One wall was glass, showing the river much like the main room. It made an appealing visual, and made flooding a room easy for Poseidon if he so chose.


He gave her a hard look, callous and piercing.

"Ladies first." He said politely 

Occupied lights. Like bathroom stalls, the rooms back here were only meant to be used temporarily. Maxwell led her to one, telling her that money was less useful to him. As if!

And as if she was going into a room with a stripper pole!

June baulked on the threshold and didn't let him take her a step further.

> "Ladies first."

In marketing, they teach you to never make a statement that can be flat-out denied if you want a chance to convince someone.

"No." In fact she wrestled her hand back from him. "I am not interested in what you have to offer me in this room." Because obviously NOTHING good was going to happen in there. Disgusted with the man she snorted from her nose.

"I don't sink you have it so I'm leaving." She was so keyed up that her heart was beating out her fingertips. June turned on her spike demi-D'orsay heels and was ready to march the entire way home. Or, at least, the entire way to a taxi. This was a fool's errand. She would pick up something more innocuous for Miranda and deliver it on the way home.

She pulled away from him and refused to enter. Maxwell looked into the room and rolled his eyes. This was slowly turning out to not be worth the hassle. He probably should have just let it go there but giving up was not in Maxwell's nature.

"Don't be stupid," He said after her, "The flirty nightclub girl act got my attention but I don't mix business and plessure. Of you want a product I wanna talk about it in private. Call me old fashion but if I'm gonna sleep with somone I want it to be about me."

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He wasn't about to take her to an actual office. Some random girl off the street, Jorge would kill her. The room was sound proof and constantly checked for listening devices it was secure.

"If you want to do business come back. I find my interest in making a deal dwindling away. You came here cause you heard this was where you could get what you want. Trust me my libido is not so in control of me that I can't see past the sex kitten act on the dance floor." His tone cold as ice.

He didn't want to play games now. There was time for fun later, with all the willing partners money could buy. He gave her an emotionless gaze. His temper was slowly rising, it wasn't in anyone's best interest to let that happen.

> "Don't be stupid,"

Strike 1. June click-clacked her way down the hall and resisted the urge to flip him the bird.

> "I don't mix business and pleasure."

That, at least was reasonable. June stopped in place but did not turn around. He'd been fine in public, but as soon as she denied what had initially interested him? Hoh! How different he became! He was just like that skeezy conservative talk show host who was currently getting raked over the coals in the media for being all honey until his gross comments were denied. Then he became vinegar.

June glanced around, but there was nothing but rooms on this hall. Though, if she continued the way that she came... there had been a fork in the road, as it were. Just when they came this way. Perhaps she could try a different hallway.

"I would speak withs you privately, but not in zis context." He should have known what it looked like and how insulting it was. She was the customer and she had no intention of becoming a product to him or anyone else. He should have known better. "Your customer service skills leave somesing to be desired." She continued, acidly. June had her own prerogative. She would find someone who could get her what she wanted, even if it wasn't Maxwell. She just had to find them, first.

June put her weight up on the toes and balls of her feet so that her heels would click no more and she continued down the hallway, instead of leaving the way they came, though, she darted into one of the other hallways before Maxwell could say no. There was no one immediately available here. And it wasn't obvious what this place was, but there were more hallways. And more. Which had totally caught her off guard.

She heard a shout behind her, but took a moment to remove her shoes entirely before she flat-out ran, taking turns without rhyme or reason.

This had been a serious mistake.