Dense black smoke choked the light out of the New York sky in a way even the smog and pollution couldn't manage. Orange and red tints emanated from the epicentre, a residential complex, specifically an apartment that was either unlucky in its owner, or owned by an unlucky person. Flames leaped from the windows, licking the building all around, as the finer dust launched from the building finally settled on the ground.

Living bastard.

Combat boots crunched across glass and debris, heedless of danger and police perimeter alike. Word spread of a blast that had rocked the building barely minutes ago. It was all but ignored by a determined, rather unsteady Cafas. He was on a mission, a bottle's worth of whisky in his system. He hadn't had a drink in months, but weekends were a weak point in his willpower. He marched towards a group of residents, all milling around, awaiting their police interviews.

What gives him the right?

His direct subject of attention was a well dressed, angry looking individual. Even with her white hair, and his brown, the man was unmistakably related to Maya. It did significantly help that Cafas had seen a photo of him. The drunk X-man, out of uniform and off balance, approached the man who was inconspicuously standing apart from the main huddle of residents.

I'll sort him out good.

"You. Simon, right? We're gonna have a chat, mate." Cafas swayed as he stood, hand balled into fists, a scowl resisting his attempts to appear neutral and anger tinging his voice. He was glaring at the man, eyes purple and brown, slightly teary. His accent had gained some strength from the alcohol, more Australian than New Yorker. Maya would certainly not have approved.

‘Please stay on the line, your call is important to us’

Restraining the urge to sigh and the, not insignificant, impulse to hurl his phone into the steadily growing crowd, Simon instead pinched the bridge of his nose to try and ward off the oncoming headache as he gazed upwards at the burning hole that had been his apartment. He knew it was his apartment because a) none of his neighbours did anything remotely interesting enough to warrant bombing, b) he could bloody well count and c) he rather doubted anyone else kept a selection of… interesting, if unstable gases in their apartment.


…and because the elemental was less than enamoured with the idea of explaining to various authorities precisely why he possessed such substances (among other things) that he was doing his level best to subtly fan and feed the flames which wreathed the building before someone competent could arrive. A pity really, he’d been so close to finding a viable solution, perhaps it was time to revisit the noble gases; granted they weren’t ideal but if he used a high enough concentration-

“Sir you need to step back”

Lowering his hand by the smallest of degrees the azure eyed elemental delivered a glance that wasn’t quite a glare towards the source of the voice and found himself looking down at a no nonsense seeming blonde who struggled to reach five feet but was accompanied by several other officers all trying to establish a perimeter around the wreck that had been his apartment.

‘Did you know that you can contact us at www.-‘

He’d thought the NYPD new better in all honesty, their city was a living breathing street theatre and its residents were loath to surrender any form of free entertainment regardless of whether it was comedy, horror or, in this case, drama. As such New Yorks finest were roving themselves about as effective as your typical political rally; ample amounts of shoving and shouting, but no results to show for it.

‘Hello my name is Dan. How can I help?’

Which only made it all the more tempting, and ultimately satisfying, to imperiously raise a finger for silence before gesturing meaningfully at his phone and turning his back on the diminutive officer, taking short steps away each time she tried to physically move him.

‘Yes, I’d like to report claim.’

It wasn’t that he was being petty, good heavens no, he was simply embracing the world renowned etiquette of New Yorkers everywhere in an effort to make the officer feel more at home, and if she didn’t look to appreciate his courtesy well, it was easy enough to lose himself in the crowd, or it would have been if someone else hadn’t been heading straight for him.

‘Of course Mr. Smith, what is the nature of the claim and when did it occur?’

"You. Simon, right? We're –“


Who could ever have guessed that finger waving would prove so cathartic? His hand had moved almost on reflex to interrupt the pink haired newcomer, for he had finally passed the automated purgatory of call centers everywhere and reached a sentient soul. Anyone who wanted to interrupt now could frankly go hang themselves.

‘You know, I’m not entirely sure, but I imagine if you turn on the news you’ll find out very shortly.’

There was a finger held imperiously in front of Cafas. The fingers was in real danger of being broken off and rammed...

_{"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you both to leave the area!"}

Cafas cast a drunk glare down at the uniformed woman yelling up at him. She seemed as agitated by the shushing finger as Cafas himself, perhaps more so. She met his glare with one of equal disdain, and held it with the same determination the had gotten her through the physical components of police training. The metal manipulator had half a mind to bodily escort her outside her own poorly maintained perimeter; A brief glance at how badly outnumbered he was put that idea to rest. He swayed on the spot as the ground tilted gently beneath him, lost for how to get rid of her.

Shoulda brought my badge.

Simon was still talking, smugness and irritation dripping out of his mouth in equal, probably metric, measures. Officer Hopps gave Cafas the least effective shove since Maya had managed to incorporealise herself trying to move him. It was enough to push him beyond good reason. He was well beyond waiting for the British bastard to finish his insurance claim.

Despite the alcohol, Cafas' hand flew out with surgical precision and closed around Simon's phone. It took every ounce of self control he had left not to crush it, or hurl it through the smokey air into traffic. The X-man brought the phone to his ear, anger shaking his body. "Call back in an hour, NYPD needs to speak to the gentleman." His thumb found the red button and ended the call on the second attempt.

Rude Jerk. Teach him to shush me.

Cafas held out the phone, line now dead, for Simon to take back. "As I was say..." The continued yelling of the woman cut Cafas off, and his eyes flashed back to her, contempt all over his face. "Lishen here Judy Hoppsh, why don' you and the resht of Zootopia PD here do somethin' usheful and clear the building?" Cafas turned back to the doubtlessly furious air elemental before the woman could recover, "As I was shaying, you and me need to have a little chat 'bout your sister." Cafas' expression was darker than the smoke above them, even as pink hair fell in front of his eyes.

Insurance companies are one of the few business models, excluding the government, that can honestly challenge law firms when it comes to practicing legal theft and come out on top. After all in a traffic accident a lawyer will generally only get to bill their services to one party, an insurance company on the other hand won't only seek indemnification from the other party (normally their insurer), they'll also go after the car manufacturers, the mechanics who worked on both cars, the company who didn't quite build the traffic lights to spec and even the contractor who paved the road if they can find some tangential link to the accident.

The main reason this isn't more well known, and one of the key differences between the two is that the insurance companies have figured out it literally generally pay to go after the common man who is generally struggling to make ends meet. Instead they target organizations where the only ones who notice the additional expense are at the management level and thus painted as greedy, penny pinching scrooges, the moment they attempt to complain.

It really was an astute business model.

And on the odd occasion where the blame and restitution couldn't somehow be set on a multitude of different parties well, there was always reinsurance; the first port of call for most when it came to acts of god, terrorism, or in this case, general mutant shenanigans.

While such coverage was not the norm in most insurance contracts, in NYC, the self-proclaimed mutant capital of the world, it was generally considered economic, if not very literal, suicide to not hedge the risk that you might somehow be at least peripherally affected by the various X gene related fiasco's that plagued the city on an almost daily basis. Granted the severity of such episodes had decreased compared to the past few years given the marked absence of a certain emerald ribbon wearing...

Hmm, now that was a thought-

'Sir, are you still with me?'

Realizing he'd lapsed into silence the elemental switched his attention back to the matters at hand. "Yes, I'm here. As I was saying I'm not certain as to the cause but it seems to be mutant related and in short I am down one apartment."

Turning his back on the pink haired and blue clad irritants respectively and taking a few short steps away under the guise of attempting to gain some semblance of privacy the hessian carried on his conversation as he placed himself barely outside the diminutive officers 'perimeter' just as her fellow squad mates began to congregate to see what the hold up was.

'I'm sorry to hear that sir, give me just a few moments and I'll see what we can do for you.'

Petty he might have been feeling but that didn't quite extend to antagonizing the NYPD en mass. Right now he was simply a standard civilian vexation, if he continued though he'd become a problem, and problems tended to be memorable, which was rarely a good thing with law enforcement.

Unfortunately while his relocation appeared to have somewhat placated the lilliputian policewoman, the pink haired hooligan was acting like a terrier with its favourite chewtoy and refused to leave him be. Granted, dodging the advances of a drunken buffoon was hardly the most strenuous task in the world; he'd managed to dance half rings around the blonde after all and she'd been sober.

At the same time, it likely wouldn't do him any favours with Maya to purposefully provoke her beau. There was also the fact that, sooner rather than later the rest of the crowd was going to recognize the 'celebrity' in their midst if they hadn't already and while he personally saw nothing wrong with highlighting the foolishness of the famous, getting caught in the limelight himself tended to be something of a bother.

It was during this internal debate, as he tried to distract himself from the loss of his apartment, that he felt Cafas move; lunging forward with greater force than his previous bungling attempts with one hand outstretched as it almost seemed to claw for the back of the hessians head.

Had it connected, the impact likely would have been enough to throw the air elemental flat on his face, assuming the strike hadn't just been meant to get a handhold on him. As it was, Simon had been dealing with Duskmoors tantrums for over two years now and the bone wielding brunette in one of her rages was both faster and far more coordinated than Cafas currently was. All it took was a simple shift of weight, a sidestep and Cafas outstretched hand flew past the side of his head barely grazing his phone-

...which was apparently enough to have it ripped from his grasp and flipped into the pink haired nuisances waiting palm like an obedient puppy.

Well then.

Taking a slow breath Simon slowly counted back from ten in Russian as he fought this new addition to his ire. Russian was an incredibly useful language in that regard as even the most basic words could resemble cursewords to an English speaking native.

By the time he was done Cafas had actually handed him back his phone and was in the process of drunkenly admonishing the gathered NYPD who by the looks of things were not taking his words well but appeared reluctant to question someone who technically outranked them even if he was, as one would put it, off his face.

"As I was shaying, you and me need to have a little chat 'bout your sister."

Narrowing his eyes Zephyr pocketed his phone and met Cafas's dark gaze with one of forced apathy. "Do we now? And you really think this is the best time?" Making an offhand gesture to the still burning building behind the inebriated X-man and the surrounding crowd. "It may have escaped your notice but someone seems to be bombing the city, isn't that something you should be dealing with first?"

Cafas refrained from putting his fist through the elemental. He wanted to quite badly, for his smarmy attitude. Exactly what he should have expected from a hoity Pom. His knuckles popped at his side as he fought the urge with every fibre of his being. It would serve no purpose. Even drunk as he was, Cafas knew that much. Plus, there was the issue of the police perimeter that would doubtless tackle him to the ground if he so much as tried.

"Yesh. We do. Now. Sho how 'bout you luge the attitude." The metal manipulator's muscles bulged with the effort of not flattening Maya's brother for not understanding. How didn't he get it. He had to get it. Everyone that knew her must get it. They had to, because how couldn't they? She was so beautiful. So utterly amazing in her dedication to the world, to peace and understanding. He'd never met anyone so deeply good as her, how did this stupid blue eyed prick not see how urgent it was?

"We need to talk right now, becaush she's dying and you're not! You're jusht standin' here bemoaning shtuff while she's fading away." Cafas advanced slow steps, looming at full height over Simon. His vision was fuzzy, his words slurred, but the fire inside was only fuelled by the alcohol.

"Sho you'll have to excuse me shaying so, but the city can fuckin' wait." He didn't like to admit to himself that he valued some people so much more than others. It felt like a betrayal of his own ideals. Hell, it was a betrayal of his ideals. He agreed with few statements more than arguably Spock's most famous line. The needs of the many outweight the needs of the few. He had spent his life living by that. But with her, he couldn't bring himself to.

"Why. Right now. You tell me why thish is happening."

There are those who might have been intimidated by the site of a 6'4" walking boulder towering over them, veins and muscles bulging with barely contained rage and a twisted snarl stretched across their features.

Such fear would generally be considered entirely normal and reflect that the individual in question actually possessed the increasingly rare trait of not only common sense but survival instincts in excess of the standard lemming for having considered the odds of a confrontation with roughly 250lb of muscle and finding them to be less than favourable.

On the other hand, when you could not only turn intangible but also walk off a mid air collision with a jet, well... suffice to say it took little effort for Simon to appear less than impressed,

"Yesh. We do. Now. Sho how 'bout you luge the attitude."

-which changed to a momentary expression of confusion at the odd vernacular before becoming impassive once more as he let loose a sigh of irritation as he bore witness to the butchering of the english language; it was bad enough that he had to deal with Americans on a daily basis but now he had to filter the crooked colloquialisms and drunken slurs of an aussie as well.

He didn't have time for this, if the pink poof wanted a silent target for verbal abuse he could find a wall, lord knows talking to something on his level might actually teach the fool something.

"We need to talk right now, becaush she's dying and you're not! You're jusht standin' here bemoaning shtuff while she's fading away."

That's what this was about? Of all the asinine, ill informed-

It was the sudden flash which got Simon's attention, a single arm raised over the crowd with phone in hand as some impetuous soul tried to get a photo of the senseless celebrity, but like a breaking damn it was swiftly joined by others as they realised there was something worth taking a photo of, and where there were photos videos wasn't far behind.

"Sho you'll have to excuse me shaying so, but-"

Blessed silence, most people merely wished they could shut up those around them but for an air elemental it was a perk that rarely got old. Even better, judging by his own admittedly amateuer lip reading skills, he'd later be able to claim he was imply trying to protect Cafas' reputation and by extension that of the X-men rather than simply silencing the other man out of irritation or trying to avoid having attention drawn to himself.

Granted it was likely a futile effort at this point, but given his gifts were largely invisible, it could hardly hurt.

Still silenced or not, it didn't change the fact that Cafas had turned the surrounding crowd into an audience, one which had no business listening to private personal matters.

That being said, stopping the proverbial bull in the china shop is always easier said than done, even more so with witnesses. Add in the fact that it was likely more accurate the fool had blood in his alcohol system than vice versa and you didn’t have a bull so much as you did a landslide. Then again why stop what you could simply redirect?

Tripping someone is not a difficult task, most people barely raise their feet enough to clear a flat surface which is why you tend to see more spills on cobblestones. Cafas, while a fighter was rather far from his best at the moment and so it took little to no effort on the Hessians part to create a subtle wall of air in front of his back foot which promptly caused the plastered pillock to do a wonderful impression of a tree with an acute case of lumberjacks.

Kneeling down out of arm's reach from the fallen mountain of a man Simon shifted his features into an expression of faux concern that proved to be rather at odds with his tone. “That’s not how this works Johnson, you don’t get to vilify me and then demand answers. Nor do you have any right to violate my sister's privacy by shouting her problems in the street.”

Pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket Simon offered it to the prone Xman, continuing the show of concern even as his words barely paused. “Now as it happens I know that Maya actually cares for you so I will give you an answer, but not here. She’s had enough of her personnel issues aired today, so follow me and we’ll get that gash in your head seen to while I talk.”

Knowing something would never have worked half as well on you sober often highlighted how much of a disadvantage it was to be drunk. With a sudden tilting and a rather too hard thump Cafas was on the ground blinking past the spots in his already blurry vision. He'd only managed to catch himself partially on his elbows, which should have hurt but didn't. It had been enough to stop his head simply bouncing off the curb and straight up knocking him out.

I am gonna break my foot off in his...

The thought was interrupted, rudely, by the ass Cafas planned to break his foot on in. Once he could get his feet back under himself. That'd be a trick, honestly, he was pretty sure he was concussed after that, so odds weren't good on him making it upright without blacking out.

“That’s not how this works Johnson..."

Cafas was angry. He wanted to lash out. Unfortunately, Simon was making a little too much sense, and there was a crowd. He sighed, realised that was something of a mistake, and accepted the handkerchief. "Ffine." The drunk, prone X-man pressed the fabric onto his head where it felt the most sore, taking the small victory of knowing the kerchief was likely ruined.

Even drunk I know that's petty.

His other arm busied itself pushing him unsteadily to a sitting position. More black spots in his vision, which a brief pause failed to fully sort out, but Cafas wanted answers more than he wanted consciousness, and drunk brains weren't known for decision making. He continued his climb to his feet, where he swayed for a moment, and his vision shrank in. Moments passed as he fought the urge to fall, then his vision started to clear up.

That's not good...

"Lead th' way. I'd app..." He paused to once more focus on the whole upright thing. "Apprcia'e if you wouldn't trip me over again. Dunno if I c'n take a second hit like tha'." His anger was being held in check by the difficulty the combination of head blow and alcohol was putting on the simple task of locomotion. It still seethed under the surface, but he didn't have the brainpower spare to focus on it.

In a city such as New York, one of the few things the local bureaucracy handled with any measure of competence was it’s emergency services. Simons personal theory for this inexplicable demonstration of proficiency was that the politicians had quickly realized that, failing to provide law or order they at least needed to keep their voting base alive long enough for re-election.

Which was why the hessian was not at all surprised to find a a number of the cities distinctive ambulances clustered less than a block from his former apartment building. Someone had clearly been expecting bodies but as none had yet to materialize the handful of EMTs milling around had little to occupy themselves with and so had been quite willing to see to Cafas's 'carelessnes'.

All told it took the men in white less than five minutes to clean and then bandage the drunkard head at which point a quiet word had them vacate the back of the area for some much needed privacy.

Leaning against the inside of the ambulance the elemental stared at the floor with a frown as the paramedics left trying to decide how much to say. It was clear from Johnsons accusations that Maya either didn't trust him with the full story yet or she'd simply been too dodging the issue; both were quite and thus rather limited what he could say.

"I'm not certain what my sister has told you Johnson but it clearly hasn't been everything so I'll try to start at the beginning. Her 'condition' is a direct result of her mutation; I trust you've seen her as her namesake before?"

After receiving a brief confirmation the hessian continued. "While she might make it seem as simple as breathing she's losing parts of herself everytime she does it. Like pinching grains of sand from a sandbox, so small as to be unnoticable, but over the years it all starts to add up."

"Maya is well aware of this and while she has tried to cut down on her changes its difficult to stop such a habit, especially when it can happen in your sleep. I think she had almost resigned herself to fading away until she had Rowan."

Pausing, Simons gaze lifted from the floor to Cafas, making sure to catch the other mans eyes before he went on.

"That's when she came to me for help."

"My control has always been better than hers, even if its taken me longer to learn. Its close to impossible for me to restore what she's already lost but I can hold her together, prevent her from losing any more of herself."

At this point the elementals tone grew darker as he finally began to air some of his anger and his hands tightened into fists behind his folded arms. "For almost four years now I've been working against her own nature to keep her one piece, I use to see her every week just to make sure she could continue to hold her own son, so when you imply that I've not done anything to help her try to understand that you don't have a bloody clue."

The clinical smell of disinfectant was far too familiar to Cafas. He could even tell it was a different brand to the one DocProf used. That was kind of sad. It stung just the same when applied to his head though, or would have, if he could tell. In his inebriated state it didn't even register. Bandages were wound around his head by an EMT that seemed just as familiar as the disinfectant smell. He'd seen this guy before. He'd seen a lot of them, he supposed.

The EMTs left. Cafas didn't like the feeling he was getting from Simon. He knew he'd pissed the guy off, and he was in no state to defend himself. For one thing, he couldn't make out where the guy was standing properly. He kept moving, and his outline was blurry at best.

Then he started speaking, Cafas nodding along for some of it. That proved to be a poor choice that nearly made him lose his stomach. He kept focus on what Simon was saying, trying to absorb as much as he could. he sincerely wished he'd made the trip while sober. It never would have happened sober though. Sober Cafas was not actually stupid enough to believe Maya's own brother would do nothing. Drunk Cafas was just so much more impassioned, he got himself so worked up.

"I'm sssorry." He directed his apology to the floor of the ambulance, as it was the most stable thing he could find to look at. It wasn't doing any good. "I..." Cafas sighed, tears forming in his eyes. He stood, clapped Simon on the shoulder with as apologetic a look as he could drunkenly muster, and stepped out of the Ambulance in order to throw up in a nearby trash can.

Pretty sure this is why we stopped...

A little over a minute later, Cafas wiped his mouth with a napkin from his pocket, binning that too. A few unsteady steps later he was back at the ambulance, sitting on the ground, back against a tyre. "Fightin's all I got. I dunno how to help her, which kills me, sho I got drinkin. Then I fig'red I cou'd jusht punsh an answer outta you. I know it'sh shtupid, yes, fank you. I wash angry, I wanted a ssimple targe'. A simple ansher."

Too much to hope for.

Cafas hung his head, the ambulance behind him creaking as its metal parts pulled towards him. He tried to let them go, but his power didn't feel very responsive. Luckily he couldn't get much of the thing in his drunken grip. "Don't S'pose there'sss somethin' you think I c'ld do?[/i]

Resisting the urge to sigh as he watched Cafas heave his wasted liquid lunch onto the pavement Simon once more found himself questioning what in the world Maya possibly saw in the fuchsia haired fop. He knew for a fact it wasn’t the celebrity status; she hated being the center of attention nearly as much he did nor was it the money, though that likely didn’t hurt given the… unfortunate baggage of her first marriage.

Women, truly alien creatures.

Still, putting aside one of the mysterious of the universe for now, an equally intriguing question surrounding the hunched over drunk was just how many standards had to be lowered before the man eventually managed to stagger into the ranks of not only the ‘vaunted’ Xmen but also the NYPD.

They couldn’t still be that desperate for recruits surely? Isabel hadn’t gone on a proper rampage for almost a year now.

Such thoughts however had to be put aside once Cafas finished emptying his stomach and slumped down against the side of ambulance with the same sullen motion as a magnet down a fence, complete with groaning metal.

"Don't S'pose there'sss somethin' you think I c'ld do?

Letting out a resigned sigh the elemental brought a hand to the bridge of his nose
Making use of the fact that Cafas was carefully examining the intricacies of his shoe laces Simons gaze lifted briefly skywards in the silent yet universal gesture of one asking what quirk of karma had caused their present predicament. In all honesty the elemental wasn’t even sure why the other man was asking; the odds of him recalling anything if after he sobered up were about on par with the odds of a reclaiming a wallet left in the company of his crooked countrymen.

Then again, on the off chance the pink poof actually had a pair of brain cells to bash together it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else pestering Maya. The hessian hadn’t seen his sister since she’d woken up to the aftermath of her drunken escapades with Isabel and she’d resolutely been avoiding him since. While he’d initially been more than content to give her some space and let the incident fade from her memory it was getting to the point where she was starting to risk her health if they didn’t resume their previous sessions.

“I’m going to be honest here Johnson, there is little you can contribute directly; you just don’t have the right skills or talents.” It really should have been more satisfying to watch the ape cringe, then again puppy kicking had never been a past time of his. “That said, she enjoys spending time with you for some reason and making someone happy is rarely a bad thing.”

Pointless platitudes so easily to deliver and they had the benefit of being both praise and scorn with the right mindsight. Still he did need to get some use out of the man. “…if you truly want to help though convince Maya to start to see me again. She’s been avoiding me lately and I can’t help her if she won’t accept help.”

Pass time or not, puppy kicking was something Simon was adept at. If he'd felt melancholy and weak before, hearing his uselessness confirmed had rendered him a veritable black hole of angst, having achieved critical mass at around the point the British ex-pat had felt the need to add "For some reason." to the end of "she enjoys spending time with you." Like he needed to be reminded he'd just made an awful first impression.

Condescending prick, isn't he?

"Well, thanksh f'r the glowing review." Cafas muttered sullenly at the ground. The tarmac didn't respond. He didn't consider that perhaps being an elemental meant Simon could hear him muttering under his breath, even with the distance between them. He wiped his eyes with a thumb to push the very clearly smoke induced tears out of them, then turned to actually look at the Pom.

"Noth'n' t' do with you sleepin' with her frien'?" He said, at a far more conversational volume, and immediately regretted it. He didn't know how Calley managed to make his petty cattish remarks and not feel bad about them. "Ah, wha'ev'r, sorry, tha' was petty. Yeah, I'll talk t' her 'bout it if y'think it'll help." Cafas shrugged, and focused on committing to memory the fact he needed to convince Maya to see Simon.

Did I apologise? I should apologise. I was a total ...

The X-man sighed and rubbed his face, trying to work on sobering up. He hadn't been drunk in quite some time. Long enough to forget how miserable of a drunk he was. One drink, maybe two or three, he was fine, affable, fun. More, and the negativity he repressed normally bubbled to the surface. "N' I really am s'rry 'bout b'fore. 'm not used t' feelin' so useless when s'meone I love's 'n trouble, 'nd I s'ppose I jus' wanted s'methin' tang'ble t' blame, 'nd t' make fix this. I know it doesn' make i' okay, but... Yeah." He gave a pretty clear gesture of 'I got no good excuse' and shut up. He doubted Simon was going to think any better of him, and honestly he didn't have much reason to, but he needed to apologise.

The metal manipulator frowned for a moment, then looked back up at Simon. "I alrea'y apologised di'n't I?" Cafas shook his head and tried to find his phone. Eventually retrieving it from his pocket, he actually wrote himself a (pretty badly misspelled) reminder for the next afternoon to talk to Maya about seeing Simon again. There, that way he wouldn't forget that, too.

Hopefully he can help...

"Sho, who's place go' hit?" He asked, entirely innocently. Seeing as he was likely going to have to stay for a while, he may as well make some conversation.

"Noth'n' t' do with you sleepin' with her frien'?"

Glancing at Cafas from the corner of his vision Simon took a slow, deliberate breath as he tried to process the implications of the drunks slurred statement, before replying without quite masking the note of annoyance in his voice. "I don't see how she can complain about that when she set the entire thing up."

All told he couldn't honestly act surprised, they'd all been less than subtle that night, he actually considered it a minor miracle that the tabloids apparently heard anything because he'd yet to see some tasteless rag proclaiming Duskmoors involvement in a debauched menage trois, which was precisely the sort of thing they'd publish on the faintest whisper of rumour.

Journalists shared a surprising commonality with lemmings in that regard. Ralls was a perfect example.

No, he couldn't say he was surprised but he could admit to disappointment; Maya wasn't really one to gossip but he supposed it inevitable that she would have to tell her beau something about where she'd been. Still it seemed there was a chance she hadn't mentioned Isabel by name which was a small mercy in and of itself.

"Ah, wha'ev'r, sorry, tha' was petty."

'Yes, it was.' Tempting as it was to share the thought the elemental held his peace. Antagonizing the other man further wouldn't gain him anything and he had more than enough experience dealing with childish outbursts to be able to ignore them.

"Yeah, I'll talk t' her 'bout it if y'think it'll help."

"Thank you." Two simple words but they could have a profound effect, especially on those who already felt guilty or remorseful. Case in point, Johnson subsequent apology and excu- explanation sounded unusually sincere for an alcoholic. Who knew? The man might even follow through on his promise, stranger things had happened after all.

The following few minutes were replaced with blessed silence, which the hessian took advantage off to twist the air and eavesdrop on the officers and fire crews across the street. The NYPD, unsurprisingly, knew little about the explosion at this stage aside from the fact that it had happened. The fire department however had already ventured up to the blast site and confirmed what he already knew.

"Sho, who's place go' hit?"

"That would be mine." Congratulations, you tried to assault a homeless man.

Like it would be the first homeless man Cafas had assaulted, having lived on the street.

The X-man took a moment to process the information, eyes slowly travelling from Simon up to the smoking hole in the building. Well now, that wasn't good, was it? He half rolled and pushed himself to his feet, less than steady, but at least devoid of anything else to throw up. Small mercies.

A long, drawn out, expletive was all the eloquence Cafas could muster in the moment, Australian accent making a brief return to full strength for the occasion. Hardly high class poetry, but it summed up the situation pretty well, in his opinion. Even before the fire had gutted that section of the building, the damage looked like it would have been a total write off. Actually, Cafas was struggling to see how they'd repair it without just demolishing. Then again, he was drunk, and not an engineer.

Gonna be expensiiiiiiiiiive

"Well, giv'n' wha' I'vve heard abou' th' comp'ny you keep, th' guy tha' did it meshed up." Isabel hardly seemed the kind to let her boyfriend's apartment get blown up without exacting some pretty terrible revenge. Probably going to be a dental records or DNA matching job. Not fun for the guys that found the hapless bomber.

Some fates are worse than death...

Cafas turned his head to look at Simon, eyes flicking over him, sizing him up. Probably a bit too fancy a person to accept, and certainly rich enough not to need to, but... "S'pose y'll need a plashe t' stay f'r a while. I c'ld set u' the gues' room. Prob'ly not wha' y'r used to, but 's there. Plus Maya's ov'r 'll th' time." The X-man turned his body to follow his head, facing Simon dead on, his sincerity pretty evident on his face. After all, even if he'd just met him under awful circumstance, he was Maya's family. Foolishly perhaps, to Cafas, that made him Cafas' family too.

In most cities a bombed and burning building would drag in gawkers and witless spectators for hours as smoke spiraled into the sky like a flare. In NYC however it was just another Tuesday and as the minutes passed by with no further excitement the flash mob that had originally gathered steadily began to dissipate as their interest waned.

For his part, Simon would have quite liked to join the exodus; even with the heavy smoke he could pick apart a picture of what little was left of his apartment and suffice to say he’d be making full use of his insurance policy. He needed to find somewhere to stay for the night, and on the off chance the bombing had been done by someone competent, that meant he’d have to stay somewhere he’d rarely or never visited.

Losing one safe house was an inconvenience, two would be an expensive irritation.

"Well, giv'n' wha' I'vve heard abou' th' comp'ny you keep, th' guy tha' did it meshed up."

The slight suggestive tone underlying the convicts statement did not go unnoticed and the elemental found himself raising a hand to the bridge of his nose more to mask his annoyance than anything else. So much for small mercies, it seemed Maya had mentioned Isabel by name and that the two of them were both wonderfully naïve about the bone wielders true nature.

Maya he could understand, his sister always saw the best in people even when she shouldn’t, but Johnson? No, not worth the time, he’d just chalk it up to the fact that he’d gotten Duskmoor to behave long enough that people could believe she’d act like a decent human being.

He needed to find some sort of silver lining in this.

Folding his arms as he continued to lean against ambulance Simon met Johnsons gaze with a raised eyebrow. “We don’t have that kind of relationship.” Leaving the drunk Australian with the idea that he was romantically involved with a mass murder was a poor idea on many levels.

“We only shared one night. Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if she giggled herself silly over this.” He indicated towards the still burning apartment complex. “Assuming she didn’t have a hand in it somehow, she tends to be rather direct like that.” The hessian could count on one hand the number of individuals who knew where he lived and of them Duskmoor was the latest. Add in that the compulsion prevented her from killing him but was silent on his property and it painted a picture that provided means, motive and opportunity.

Had she targeted anyone else he might have actually been pleased with her. For all that the bombing was attracting news coverage it didn’t include her face which meant that some element of planning had been involved. He was getting ahead of himself however; he couldn’t yet be certain Isabel was behind this and the police hadn’t even started the investigation, it would likely be weeks before they reached any kind of conclusion and it would be at least an hour or two before he had the privacy necessary to ask her himself.

For now though he’d done his good deed for the day in warning Johnson about Duskmoors actual behavior, hopefully if the pink ponce ever met her he wouldn’t try to strike up a conversation based on a nonexistent friendship, or worse make suggestions about her utterly dysfunctional relationships.

Was he being uncharitable? Quite possibly, then again as a newly minted member of the homeless he’d dared say he was entitled to express a fair amount of ill will.

"S'pose y'll need a plashe t' stay f'r a while. I c'ld set u' the gues' room. Prob'ly not wha' y'r used to, but 's there. Plus Maya's ov'r 'll th' time."

Simons other eyebrow rose to join the first as Cafas pitched his garbled offer before he gently shook his head as he declined. “The offer is appreciated but I’m far from destitute, I’ll be fine. Besides I don’t want to force Maya to see me before she wants to.” That and he doubted he’d have the patience necessary to handle a hung over halfwit.

Hmm, being homeless was proving to be surprisingly cathartic.

Simon was a funny one. His way of thinking and acting was so different to Cafas', and yet not violently so (if one ignored the earlier tripping). Isabel would have tried to goad him int oa fight by then. So would Aura, or Meld. It was curious to Cafas that Zephyr was still there, maintaining a relatively civil, if terse, conversation. Or it would be, in the morning. In the moment Cafas had about enough brain power to keep up with what they were speaking about.

No, well okay then. Hotel for you then...

"Shuit y'self." Cafas nodded, and cast his gaze around the thinning crowd. No-one looking terribly guilty as far as his blurred vision could tell. He should probably head off too. At least the trip hadn't been completely wasted. He knew that Simon could help, if Maya could be convinced to accept it. That meant Cafas could do something useful. Useful meant he didn't have to be angry at himself, or drink.

Oh right, Issie.

"Sho wha' is y' deal wi' Ishabel? I mean, y've clearly known her a whille, th' way y' speak 'bout 'er. Ye' y' say jus' one night. So tha' means y' knew her b'fore." Words that wouldn't have left his sober mouth. He certainly would have wondered, but it took a special brand of inhibition to actually ask a dangerous man how they knew a deadly mass murderer. Then again, sober he might have made the connections in his mind. As it was, none of the more iffy groups that had come and gone in NYC were on his mind, and as such, the link wasn't made.

"I mean, y' fancy 'er. You wen' out 'f y'r way t' make sure she wasn' in trouble."