Rebecca was one step away from firing all her bartenders and starting her staff from scratch.

Okay, so maybe she was not going to take things that far, but she was growing tired of the unreliability of some of her girls. Life happened, but when one girl called out, it was rare that another of her bartenders would jump on the vacated shift. Since leaving the bar unattended was an unwise business move, Rebecca ended up picking up the slack.

It was not the worst thing; she knew the job, it saved her from paying a bartender, and she could cash some extra money on tips. All those logical benefits did not change the fact that she was stuck being sociable with patrons while they drank in her tanktop-exposed cleavage along with their beers and shots. Rebecca could charm her regulars, and some people even enjoyed her snark, but she would still rather be home with her spouse and daughter.

Not that it was easy being home. Rebecca was still coming to terms with the idea that she would never touch Jesse again. No hugs, no kisses, no sex. No strong arms to wrap her up or soft hands to caress her cheek on rough nights. And she loved Jesse, really and truly. The changeling was the only person she ever loved (besides Astrid, of course,) and she would work through this and find happiness in their new reality. Jesse’s smile would ease her heart, and Jesse’s voice would caress her, and that could be enough, she was sure.

But for the moment, it was not. She was aching for a loving touch, knowing it was the one thing she could not have. This longing was making it harder to focus and be as strong as she tried to be. Moments of weakness and shameful thoughts were crossing her mind more frequently, and she was hating herself for them.

She was caught in these thoughts when a new customer arrived at The Rock Bottom Pub, and initially, she was in a fog, not registering who had pulled up a stool at her bar. ”Welcome, what’ll you be having?” she asked, before she turned and looked at the man properly, feeling her heart skip. That damn weakness again. ”Tris?”

It was another long day at the school. When he had originally thought up following the career path of a guidance councilor he had a much more glorious job in mind. Helping mold young minds, assure they made it through the struggle of life. Aiding teens in making plans for promising futures. Even his original purpose of being in a better position to help children as their powers awoke. His powers had manifested during school hours. It was a miracle no one was killed in the earthquake or his own confusion that followed.

But today was less glorious. A sex ed class for the freshman class, a drug seminar for the school. Most of his days was spend in his cramped office. Geodes and crystals lining the wall with a stack full of student files and the occasional teary eyes teen. It had been a long day and had it not been for the sand shifting around in the bottom of his loafers he was sure his feet would be sore. He was glad when he had finally gotten out of his pile of paperwork though was disheartened to see the sun already well into it's decent. Geo had hoped for a chance to go to the park, bask in the raw dirt for a while though it seemed he had to move up his itinerary.

So the mutant sauntered down the steps into the basement bar. When Becca had taken over the place Geo had been ecstatic. Booze, ground level above your head and owned by his personal favorite redhead. If he was being honest the last reason held more weight than the others though he was hardly about to admit it openly. The elemental set his briefcase on the ground for a moment and began to brush himself off. He shed sand, it was an epidemic at times though he always made sure to keep the worst of it outside of the bar. After ruffling through his hair he grabbed his case and walked into the dimly lit watering hole.

Instantly he saw Becca working the bar. Figured. The woman always seemed to be working on something. The bar was not an exception. Had Geo been more verse in mixing drinks he would have loved to help bartend. Though after the first round of jokes featuring him 'scaring off the female clientele' he didn't pursue it any further. He opted for a stool away from the rest of the crowd, placing his suitcase on the empty bar beside him as Rebecca absently approached not realizing it was him.

"Sam Adams would be nice but I'd settle for your number." Geo joked with a smile on his face. When her mismatched eyes met his the stone heart in his chest melted like it always did. A feeling he swept under a fictional rug as he loosened the tie around his neck and popped the top button of his shirt to allow some breathing room.

"Was a late day at the office. Thought I'd come down and see what my favorite ray of sunshine was up to."

Tristen was her oldest friend, and the idea that he would make an appearance at The Rock Bottom Pub was nothing shocking since it was his self-admitted favorite haunt in the city. She never reached a point where she stopped enjoying his company, even if they might give one another a hard time. It was not his fault that he did not know what she was struggling with. He showed up with that confidence and that smile and that charm like he always did, unaware that Rebecca was unequipped to be handling those things.

He was a patron and she would grab him his bottle of Boston Lager from the fridge next to the bar. ”Be more New England, Tristen,” she teased. Rebecca popped the cap off the bottle and grabbed the glass specifically designed for this particular beer. As someone pretentiously reminded her, if she was going to serve the world’s best beer, she should be serving it right.

Instead of acknowledging the way he took advantage of his momentary anonymity to ask for her number, she rolled her eyes. It was safer not to engage, she was sure. Instead, she focused on the cute little nickname he was using for her, and how wildly inappropriate it felt, given her mood. ”Oh, I’m just beaming,” she replied flatly, embracing the pun.

”My girls can’t show up for work, and I’m pretty sure I spilled tequila on my t*t.” When Rebecca was in a mood, her word choices could be historically indelicate. ”I’m just glad I wore black tonight.” The last thing she needed was to make it easier for the old men at the bar to ogle her in a transparent white top. She learned that mistake long ago.

It occurred to Rebecca that, almost immediately, she had drawn the conversation to her chest, and she mentally rebuked herself. She had to consciously watch what she said, and that was never something she was good at with Tristen. They were friends because she was comfortable around him; never shy, and never afraid to say anything. She sighed, pouring herself a rum and coke, (since there was no one to keep the boss from drinking on the job,) and decided to turn the conversation back to him. ”Late night? Flirting with some saucy English teacher? Or maybe a cute substitute that doesn’t know better yet?” she teased. Tristen would still flirt with her, but it was nothing she took seriously, because in her opinion, he was one of the most notorious flirts in the city. She was not special, so there was no reason to overthink things.

Geo chuckled at Becca's jab at his New England ways. Some habits died hard and it was hard to break them. Not to mention he'd be damned if there was a better lager about than Sam Adams. It always held true no matter the years that passed though it did gain a bit of a nostalgic effect for the mutant.

"Ya know I tried once." Geo started with a snark grin as he grasped the cold glass in his hand. "But it was wicked hard." He purposely laid the accent on thick for his old friend, a small laugh following it. Taking a long first swig of the drink he relished the taste of the first drink of beer for the day. It was always the greatest. He let out a sigh as he placed the drink back down and ran his eyes over the bartender on duty.

"We can't all have that smooth English accent going. Would take away from your charm."His eyes instinctively went to her chest as she brought up her suspicions of alcohol abuse though he quickly averted his eyes back to the brew in front of him.

"Hopefully it was the top shelf stuff. Would hate to think you didn't get the best Bec." He joked as he took a smaller sip. Watching Becca pour her own drink his fingers drummed against the condensed glass in his hands, the collected water being sucked up by his arid skin.

"French teachers are generally the saucy ones. English teachers are more classy, like to be courted." He smirked as he built on her joke. The elemental was never a shy one, that wasn't a secret. He made sure it wasn't. For him it was simply about making women feel good, a simple smile it's own reward. Though he wouldn't lie that it wasn't fun when the women flirted back. But there was only one girl that had been able to hold his interest for a long period of time. Ironically enough.

"Trick of the trade though. I wouldn't expect you to know that." The shoulders on his blazer heaved a shrug as he spoke. "I don't know how to make a Johnny Vegas so call it even?"

Tristen was always quick to roll with her quips and jabs, leaning into the comment in his inherent Boston-ness by thickening his own accent. As much as she would have liked to be made of stone, she chuckled at the display, muttering under her breath, ”Obnoxious,” as she brought her glass to her lips, embracing the bite of a strongly-made drink. The man could make her laugh; that was nothing new.

It was the quiet time of the night where some regulars were hanging around, but a “crowd” would not be expected for another hour or two, leaving Rebecca with time to kill listening to Tristen’s Guide for Seducing Various Teaching Departments. It was that debaucherous behavior that made Tristen fascinating to a younger, repressed Rebecca, even if it also led her to shy away. Still, her friend had made great strides to mature over the years, from the flirtatious teen troublemaker she knew to a somewhat respectable councilor. It was not enough to change the past, but she did feel oddly proud of the man he grew into.

She rolled her eyes at his comment on a Johnny Vegas, (containing tequila, watermelon schnapps, and Red Bull,) still unsure of how she felt about having him here, where it was so easy to feel… comfortable. ”You know, all jokes aside, nowadays you do have my number. You’re welcome to call and give me the heads up that you’re coming by so I can mentally ready myself,” she joked, even if the words were more truthful than the lighthearted tone they were shared in. ”You don’t have to come by and surprise me anymore…”

---

It had been a long f***ing night. The Cove was never busy, but the owner had instituted a half-price shot night, and naturally there was a boom of patronage to take advantage of the promotion. It would not last; those customers were not looking to make a regular haunt of a little dive bar pretending to be some flashy hotspot. The owner seemed to be in denial about owning a dive bar, and it kept business slow most nights.

Rebecca knew there would be a boost, but she was not expecting how hectic the night would be. Sure, she made out like a bandit on tips compared to a normal night, but she had been on her feet all night, bouncing from customer to customer. She was exhausted, and she had learned a valuable lesson in clothing choice after spilling a shaker of vodka and tonic on her white tank-top, leaving her blue bra to show through the fabric.

For all the flaws of the busy night, she did feel surprisingly confident. She was called all varieties of cute, and at least one guy said she was “too young and pretty for a place like this.” (She kept it to herself that she was, in fact, twenty; it did not pay to remind the clientele that she was, in fact, too young to drink the alcohol she was serving.) She took all the compliments with grace, hoping they were earned by more than just a see-through top.

The last of her customers had cleared out, and Rebecca was tasked with cleaning the place and closing up. For all his faults, the owner put a lot of faith in the responsible young woman, knowing the bar was in good hands whenever he walked away for the evening. She was, after all, the hard-working, vigilant, good-girl bartender on the staff.

She had just finished wiping down the bar and the tables, moving to restocking the shelves when she saw someone come in, accompanied with the bell that dinged when the door opened. She cursed herself for not locking the door yet.

”I’m terribly sorry, but we’re close for the—“ she stopped when the new guest came around the corner and into view. ”Tristen! Why on earth are you here? You can bother me tomorrow. It’s late and you’re not even old enough to be in here,” she chided the seventeen-year-old, dropping her polite tone when she realized it was just her teammate, likely here to just tease her and flirt with her again. How was she supposed to reply to that like the "good girl" she was?

The clunk of Tristen's boots rang down the nearly vacant sidewalk as he strolled down the street. His eyes kept checking the street signs as they passed him in the night. Switching between the signs and the piece of paper in his hand he tried to navigate the new city. It seemed like a maze compared to the small mountain town he'd come from. He couldn't fathom how people lived in a place like this without difficulties. The endless grid loomed ahead, threatening to engulf him should he take a wrong turn and lose track of where he was. Of course more people would have taken a cab but the young Mutant didn't have much in the way of pocket money.

He'd managed to get a job doing door sales in his spare time. Finally finding a way to do something with his ever running mouth other than finding trouble. It had become abundantly apparent to him since he joined the team that having some money was going to be a necessity. It didn't pay to be a mutant vigilante. Let alone one that was bad at their job. The elemental still had difficulties with controlling his abilities. He had to go to extreme length to make sure he didn't come into contact with bare earth. The last thing he wanted to do was make waves for the band of mutants that had come to his aid.

Tristen was one to fall for a girl quickly. Often ready to pounce into the quickest bit of trouble at the batting of sad eyes. But Rebecca was something different. The team called her Impact but she had instantly taken a special place in the young man's heart. He already had an affinity for redheads. That was no secret where he came from, but the way the woman carried herself, so articulate and in control even among the chaos had swept his feet out from under him. So he came up to the bar he had been assured by the senior member he had asked where Rebecca worked.

Walking through the door Tristen looked over the empty, dimly lit bar. It wasn't hard to find it's only occupant. The vision of a woman caused a coy smile to form on his face as she turned to look at him. Running a hand through his sandy hair to ensure it's prominent standing position a few grains fell loose onto his black t-shirt. Brushing the residue off the shoulder of the MCR band shirt he stepped into the bar as she spoke to him. He couldn't help but get a kick out of the way her polished tone dropped at the realization that it was him.

"Well the rules have nevah really been a huge influence on what I do." He joked. Defiantly the elemental sauntered further into the bar, choosing to lean on a support beam as he admired the woman. He tried not to ogle her though her attire and poor choice of top color made it abundantly difficult.

"What the real question is here is how you can still look so amazing at the end of a shift." He winked at her as he reached down into his pocket retrieving a small paper box. "Ah yous guys aloud to smoke in bars out here?" He asked as he popped a cigarette in his mouth.

Of course he did not care for the rules; he was a stray the team picked up, and while he appreciated having a roof over his head, he was no less wild. Rebecca was still trying to figure Tristen out, but he was so different from anyone else she knew. The young woman was not a particularly social creature, despite her job, and she did not keep many (or any) friends past her time at school. Most boys started taking an interest in Rebecca midway through high school (for obvious reasons,) but they usually gave up the chase when they realized there were other equally cute girls who were not as snarky or standoffish.

And then there was Tristen, the punk from Boston who always seemed to be close by. Rebecca gave him the same snippy comments, colorful verbal jabs, and dirty looks, but there he was, coming to her place of work to… compliment her. Of course.

Rebecca eyed him from behind the bar, looking over the band shirt and the jeans he arrived in. He was the kind of guy who she would have assumed to be “trouble” back in school, and so far, he was proving her old assumptions right. He was tall; the kind of tall some people might find intimidating, but Rebecca was too strong-willed to think someone taller than her was stronger than her.

Particularly if he honestly thought he was going to light up in her damn bar! Taking swift steps around the bar, she approached her teammate, speaking dismissively. ”I’m a mess, and I’m still sopping wet, so the teasing is not necessary.”

She stopped when she was right in front of him, and with no hesitation grabbed the cigarette from between his lips before he could grab a lighter. ”And I don’t allow smoking in this bar, especially not after hours by some… punk…”

Her indignant sentence trailed off when she realized she was a lot closer to Tristen than she planned on getting. Suddenly, she was meeting his hazel eyes and his winning smile, and from this position, that meant she was literally looking up to meet his gaze. His height was not intimidating before, but suddenly she felt a weird tremble in her chest.

She turned away in a huff, looking to regather her composure. He was not going to get under her skin. ”I am almost done cleaning up. I could be convinced to walk some punk kid back to the base so he doesn’t wander the city lost until dawn.” She was well aware that the new recruit was still learning his way around New York, despite a month or two with the team under his belt. Begrudgingly, Rebecca was aware the right thing to do would be to get him back to the base safe; rather, she was less concerned with his safety than the safety of anyone that might accidentally push him down into a patch of dirt.

Tristen held up his hands in defence as Becca approached him, taking the cigarette from his mouth. A smile formed on his face at her sudden objection. It hadn't been what he had expected but he was certainly not going to complain about the sudden closeness of the beautiful woman. He took a moment to get lost in her mismatched eyes as she seemed to linger for a moment. They had been what had sparked his initial interest in her but there was a proverbial rabbit hole behind them he was sure.

"Think the term 'Beautiful mess' seems to apply." He quipped back. He was never one to leave a woman with an insult to herself. Her referring to him as a punk though was comical. It roused a chuckle from him as she huffed away, leaving him where he stood. His eyes followed her figure as she faced away from him and he made his way over to sit in a bar stool.

A heavy sigh escaped from the mutants chest as she jabbed at walking him back to the base once she was done cleaning. He was a small town boy in a new city, it was painfully obvious. But one could be forgiven for getting lost when trying to find a secret base in such an expansive city.

"That only happened once, hey. I found this place alright." His gravelly voice spoke matter-of-factly with a slight air of pride to his achievement. All he had to do was yell at a homeless person and you might as well tattoo 'I Heart NY' on his chest. Or at least he thought. The city seemed to have many layers to it.

"I'd be happy to walk you home Princess. Just don't go expecting a good night kiss. I'm a man of principle." He added to her clear attempt to make him feel as young as he was. It didn't bother him though. He hadn't needed age on his side so far and he was getting buy alright. That was all that really mattered to him.

"You know I've been thinking about finding a nice hang out in the city here. I like this place. Dark, quiet, underground especially. Gives me a weird warm fuzzy feeling." He let the note linger for a moment, playing with the edge of the bar as he spoke though his eyes were clearly on Rebecca.

"Of course that could just be the staff's doing."

Rebecca let the “Beautiful Mess” comment go unanswered, focusing on restocking the bar. It was one of her last chores, and it conveniently allowed her to face away from her one off-the-clock barfly. She appreciated the ability to look away, because she was sure she was blushing. She was not a fan of this revelation; why was she blushing?

Grabbing an empty bottle of rum off the shelf, she bent at the waist to grab a new one from the drawers under the bar, blissfully unaware of what this meant for the young man behind her and her cut-off jeans. She heard him sigh and defend his lack of direction, but she chose to ignore him.

Of course, then he heard the pet name Princess come off his lips. She pouted and felt her cheeks heat up, which left her pouting more. Where did this kind of confidence even come from? He clearly drank from the Fountain of Eternal Jackassery.

And why was it getting to her like this?! She was better than this; Rebecca Grey was not the girl to fall prey to some sweet talking bad boy. She turned quickly, her hair whipping around, still in a ponytail from a night of work. She watched as he suggested he might make The Cove his “hang out” and she smirked. ”Funny. I was pretty sure you have to be eighteen to get through the door.”

She leaned over across the bar, unashamed of the display of cleavage she was putting on. If he was going to put her on edge, maybe she should be less afraid to play dirty, too. ”And even if some sandy-ass hooligan did sneak his way in here, the only thing giving you a warm feeling will be tequila.”

Rebecca leaned in closer, shrinking the gap between them over the marble top of the bar. ”There are no princesses for you here, mate.”

Tristen turned to sit normally at the bar while Rebecca went to restock the shelves. He'd happily sit and watch the woman work for days. She was a vision to behold. But that was considered creepy by normal culture so he appease himself with drinking her in while she went to work. Of course she seemed to cater to his admiration of her figure bending as she went to grab who-cared. He couldn't help but sigh at the lovely view though quickly averted his eyes as she turned to look at him suddenly. Her gaze caught him though. Always did.

"You keep saying that but there are always ways Bec." His playful toothy smile carved his face. He couldn't help but catch a glance down her blouse for a moment before delving back into her eyes. It almost made her more attractive when she blatantly shut him down left and right. Normally folks would have given up but Tristen was determined at the very least to win the favor of the beautiful woman. There were hints of red under her freckles that cut his smile deeper.

"So is that you admitting you'd serve me or was that you coming onto me?" He curled his brow in an inquisitive look coming across his face as he clicked his tongue. He shrugged slightly as he ran his hands across the bar to fold them neatly in front of him. Tristen held firm in his gaze as she leaned across the bar to denounce her royalty. The elemental's smile lowered for a moment while he pondered. Trying to think of a way to put his counter argument.

"Well what sort of princess would you be without some humility?" He asked simply. A small smirk forming in the corner of his mouth as he did so. Happy with his thought though he still couldn't help but adding. "I know you give me just one glance and you send my stomach into a whole mess of butterflies. Warmer feeling than any Cuervo you through at me I'll tell you that much." Leaning forward just slightly his eyes narrowed as his gravelly voice added mockingly.

"Princess."

How? How did he always find a way to leave her flustered? Rebecca was so caught off guard by the this-or-that question, she momentarily forgot there could be a third option. Stammering, she tried to answer, but it was not pretty. ”I did not say I’d be serving you, which is not to, I’m not—ugh, you are so obnoxious.” She was not coming onto him! Rebecca did not “come on” to guys.

But if that was really the case, why was she so close? He was frustrating her, but he was not the type of frustrating where she would get annoyed and walk away. Somehow, Tristen frustrated her in a way that drew her closer against her will! She called bull****, sure there was some secondary mutation he was using. Something in those hazel eyes that she—why, oh why could she not break the lock his eyes had on hers?

Evidently realizing he still held some upper hand, Tristen pushed his luck (of course he did) with the Princess thing. She was ready to snap back at him, but then he hit her with a line that was genuinely sweet. That was against the rules, and any merciful referee would hit him with a red card. Still, Tristen did not worry himself with the rules, telling her she made him feel warm and gave him butterflies. In that sense, they were on even footing, because Rebecca could feel a tingling in her gut and a heat growing in her body.

For a moment, her mouth hung open, trying not to admit how special he made her feel by saying that. It was nothing like the passing compliments of bar patrons. Nervously, Rebecca tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear, trying to be dismissive. ”D-do the girls usually just tremble and swoon at that line?” He was a flirt and a cad and she was not going to be one of the girls who fall prey to the same routine she knew he used with every schoolgirl admirer he must have. She was strong and independent and ignoring the fact that she could feel his breath intermingling with her own as she moved centimeters closer.

He had hit the mark he had been hoping for with his double bladed question. Either way he won, a fact that apparently resorted her back to name calling. That was generally a good sign. She was flustered, though to be fair so was he. He had flirted with her time and again since he had joined the team though he hadn't realized this was the first time they had been alone during.

Tristen didn't respond to her declaration that he was obnoxious. He was more than content to set and stare into her eyes, The handful of missions they had been on had been enough to win over his infatuation. The real trick was conveying the emotions. At least doing it earnestly with the reputation he had. It was easy to write of the flirty guy as playing nice. It was another thing to get his meaning across.

His stone heart melted as she tucked a bit of red hair behind her ear. The grin was long gone from his face. Leaving him stricken by Rebecca, her intoxicating presence and the closeness that they found between them.

"See that's the thing." Geo spoke softly, choosing each word carefully. He could feel a connection, something there, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste. "I haven't met another girl like you to make me feel even remotely that way." He blinked wide eyes at her as he spoke. The words ringing genuine as the rest of the world felt like it went quiet. Reaching up with a slightly trembling hand to softly run a finger along her jawline. Smooth skin feeling warm under his touch.

"There isn't going to be a girl as entrancing as you. So why waste my time with some girl when I know there's someone like you out there." Admittedly his normal habit of flirting had been more quenched as of late. The redhead seemed to make the rest of the female population pale in comparison.

Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe a few beats. She was flatlining. He had killed her using sweet words and too much direct eye contact.

Okay, so maybe she was alive, but she was entirely unsure how to process what that meant now. Tristen was not backing away from the redhead as she closed the gap between them. He told her she was unique; unlike any other girl he knew. If these were the things he said all the time, she could see why a girl might go weak for a man like him.

His hand reached out to her, and Rebecca tried to tell her own to smack the touch away, but found herself lacking control. Her body was not taking orders from the anxious, distant part of her brain seeking to move away from intimacy. There was a part of her that liked that he was touching her. It saw those deep eyes, and that toned body hiding beneath an emo punk rock shirt, and the words like honey in that gravely voice... it took all those things in, and wanted more.

This was too real, and she was not ready for something this new and out of her element. Rebecca was confident in all the other aspects of her life, but all she could do was fake it now. Maybe it started with abandoning the denial that she was not attracted to him.

”Oh, Tristen… Tristen, Tristen, Tristen…” she almost purred, tracing her finger along his collarbone, hoping he did not realize she was repeating his name so she had time to think of what to say next. ”You don’t have to be so sweet.” Truthfully, she loved that he was being so sweet, but it made her weak, and she was dangerously close to swooning, so she needed him to stop.

She pulled away from him only so she could reposition and finally take the one obstacle out from between them. Rebecca hoisted herself onto the bar so she could sit on the faux-marble, glad she had recently wiped it down. Her legs dangled over the edge, each foot hanging to either side of Tristen’s knees. There, she was above him, and to look at her, he had to look at all of her. Rebecca was not blind to the assets at her disposal, even if she was like a baby with a hand grenade, unaware of how to properly use such great power.

Rebecca was unsure of what to do with her hand, so she followed her instinct and ran it through his hair. It was a unique sensation, as she unearthed particles of sand along the way. It gave Tristen a “just returned from the beach” vibe that would never go away. ”I’ve seen the way you look at me. You think I’m hot,” she whispered confidently, looking to take the emotion out of the game. ”And I’m sure what you want to do to me isn’t sweet.”

Tristen could leave and go tell anyone what Rebecca had done; the owner of the bar, their leader, Arclight, or any of the other X-Men—they would have all laughed at the story. Serious Rebecca. Good Girl Rebecca. She would never be the girl in this position, letting words like this off those rarely-touched lips coated in dark lipstick. And yet…

”Do it,” Rebecca said softly. She leaned down so she could whisper it into his ear. ”Kiss me. Touch me. Bend me over the bar,” she invited in a breathy, barely spoken voice, still surprised she had the words somewhere in her. ”Whatever you’re thinking… Just do it, Tris…”

He relished in the feeling of her finger across his collar. Her sweet voice speaking his name was like music in his ear. Just recognition from her was enough to appease the young man. But she had given him so much more. Jumping slightly as she suddenly crossed the bar and sat above him he couldn't help but gape in wonder.

She was a beauty to behold. A gorgeous figure, tight clinging clothes not leaving much of her frame to the imagination. Freckles adorning her pale skin and her mismatched eyes, each more beautiful than the next. He found himself at a loss with her sudden acceptance of his advances. Becca had been a figure of his admiration since he had been picked up by the rag tag group but never in his life had he expected her to actually give him the time of day. A smile, perhaps a laugh here and there and leaving the woman with a good feeling about herself but as she sat above him, speaking softly, he found nothing but heart palpitations. A slight look of surprise came across Tristen's face as she turned to the subject of lust. His seemingly questionable intentions and chauvinistic opinion of her.

"'Hot' is hardly the words I'd use to describe a woman of your magnitude Bec." But a smile formed on Geo's face and he closed his eyes. The feeling of her breath against his hair, the sweet scent of her as he skin lingered just out of touch. His arms wrapped along her waist, his hands resting on the hem of her shirt. He could feel her hot skin under his grasp as he leaned into Becca's advance. As she seemed to dare him to reach out, have his way with her. He wanted to reach out, wrap himself into her and lock his lips into hers. It would be easy to get lost in the passion. But Geo was never one to cast aside wonder for the sake of lust.

"You want me to do what I want with you?" His bated voice spoke softly as he grew closer to her ear. The tip of his lips just barely brushing her flesh. Though he retreated. Pulling back to catch her eyes once again as his hands retracted from around her waist and found her soft hand. Holding her hand gently in both of his he closed his eyes as he brought it up to meet his lips. Softly he kissed the warm skin of her hand. The bitter smell of cleaning products cast aside in his mind as he focused on Rebecca. Wrapping both of his hands around hers he looked past their entwined hands and into her eyes.

"Let's run away. Ditch all this responsibility, this war. We'll drive off into the sunset and we'll spend the rest of our lives wrapped in a world of whimsy." A wide grin came across his face as he winked at Becca. Only half joking of course. The weight of this world was a lot for young souls to bear and the young mutant could see no better cause to throw the world to the wind than a beautiful woman like Rebecca.

Rebecca was sitting on Tristen’s lap, pressing her hands against his toned chest, and feeling ninety-percent sure she was in over her head. She was accustomed to plans and logic, and putting herself in Tristen’s hands flew in the face of both.

There was a feeling swelling in Rebecca, building up with the growing tension, and Tristen was frustrating her by being sweet. Maybe it really was sincere; she was quite literally offering herself to him, so he stood to gain nothing from whispering sweet nothings. His hands were at her thighs, and she was bracing herself for them to move, but he hesitated. His lips teased her with a delicate brush against the sensitive flesh of her earlobe, yet still, nothing.

And then he took her hand, kissing it delicately. She felt a flutter in her chest that was different than the heat she was embracing. For a moment after he asked her to run away with him, Rebecca was stunned. It was the last thing she was expecting. As with anything from Tristen’s lips, it was hard to know what she could take seriously, but she was starting to believe he really might want something more from her than just her body.

He was making this emotional, and as unprepared as Rebecca was for what she wanted, she was less prepared for feelings she had no interest in. She had too much to focus on; too much she had worked for with the X-Men. Tristen might have been sweet, and yes, hot, but he was still new to her, and he felt like a rolling stone. Already, he was looking to lead her away like they were in some fairytale.

So Rebecca ignored the sincerity and denied how genuine his request might be. There was an easier answer she could cling to: she was not the only one in over her head. ”Tristen… You talk too much…” Her hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it, her thumbs brushing against his abdominal muscles along the way. ”Don’t get all sappy and make this more complicated than it needs to be.”

One of her hands took his, leading it under her still slightly damp tank top, guiding it to her chest. She met his eyes, staring hungrily into them. ”Shut up and kiss me…” she demanded, moving in until her bottom lip found the gap between his own.