”The Rock Bottom Pub,” Agnes snorted as she looked at that neon, flickering light that hung on the wall. ”Red, clearly you weren’t talking about your ***.”

Agnes was dressed comfortable, which was how she always dressed, in tight jeans, her combat boots, and a leather jacket draped over her shoulders. Fingerless gloves adorned her hands as she stuffed them into her pockets, her hair hung loose on her shoulders, spilling down in shades of dark, earthy brown. With each heavy step of her boots, her hair waved and undulated. Her sparkling, crystalline eyes shining in the dimly lit pub. Already she could hear the sounds of people talking and laughing. The place actually seemed to have some action tonight (for a change). Good, then maybe their fearless leader would be in a good mood.

As she marched her way into the bar, she tilted her head and eyed her surroundings. Idly she chewed on her pink lips. She had gotten a split in it earlier but it was already healing over. Within an hour any sign that it was there would be completely gone. As uncomfortable as her mutation was, there were some benefits to it.

Moving across the bar, she ignored any lingering looks she received from the drunken patrons. For as much as she detested attention, it was strange that she kept finding herself in places like this. Her eyes rolled over when she got a few cat calls and whistles and guys (even some women) patting their laps to call her over. They didn’t know her, otherwise they would know better than to give her that kind of attention. Pity be any of those who would cross the line and try to touch her. She has left more than her fair share of teeth on the bar tops in her time.

Her hands still in her pocket, she approached the bar and took a seat on a stool. Looking up and down, she didn’t immediately catch sight of the woman she was looking for. However, as she peered through, she eventually caught sight of a shapely posterior of her boss as she was fishing under the back shelf for something. Agnes rolled her eyes, picked up a peanut from a nearby bowl. Holding it ready, she waited until she had the perfect shot and flicked it with an assassin’s precision, directly in the middle of the left cheek.

THUMP!

Agnes smirked as she eyed the redhead. ”You know, if that’s the battlefield defense your people are known for,” she shrugged. ”Gotta say, I’m less than impressed.”

****ing ***** *** bartenders. ****ing ****ing finals. ******* mother****ing end-of-semester punk*** crowd.

Rebecca was slightly annoyed.

In a way, she had no right to be upset that her bartender had to call in. Rebecca liked hiring girls who were going through college and needed a job to get to where they wanted to be. She encouraged her employees who were students to bust their butts, and when finals time came around, it was only natural they might need a little extra time off to prepare for exams. It was just frustrating when coverage was impossible to find, and for the second night in one week, she was covering her own bar.

The crowd was larger, with students who were done with finals looking to have their last hurrah before either leaving town or settling in for the summer. Large groups were a double-edged sword: as a pro, Rebecca was able to reel in more money on tips; as a con, Rebecca was expected to deal with large groups of people. It was something she could do, but not something she enjoyed.

When she was younger, she appreciated the validation of strangers, either in their compliments or their not-so-subtle gazes. She was a socially-stunted young woman who grew amused and more confident with the recognition, and if anyone went too far, she could more than take care of herself. Now, as a more mature, self-confident woman, she knew she was hot, and she knew her spouse knew she was hot. Beyond that, she could do without pick-up lines from strangers—particularly brazen philosophy majors fresh off their victories over essays and tests, looking to press their luck in a new arena.

Some days it was hard to remember that, as the owner of the bar, it might be bad for business if she broke someone’s fingers under her heel.

Rebecca was behind the bar, reaching on one of the lower shelves for a new bottle of coconut rum when she felt a something small and fast bounce off her bottom, clad in her cut-offs. Immediately, she whipped around, having just about enough of her time playing host to the fraternity collective. ”Whatever that was will be the last thing your hand will—”

She stopped, realizing the perpetrator was worse than some college prankster. Rebecca was fortunate enough to be playing host to Agnes, her least cooperative X-Man. The fiery temper she was ready to ignite a moment ago cooled, being replaced by the renewed reminder that she was too tired for the night she had been dealt. ”We’re not on the battlefield,” she reminded her intruder in a flat tone. ”This is my castle, and I’m seriously considering putting in a moat.” Rebecca had considered putting a “No X-Men” rule on the bar in the past, but it would have made little difference; Combatant would shrug off an arbitrary rule like that.

Sighing, Rebecca rubbed her temples and asked, ”What’ll you be having, Agnes?”

”Whatever that was will be the last thing your hand will—”

She flashed Rebecca a winning smile and waggled her eyebrows. Her boss had learned to accept certain things in Agnes’ personality, and one of those was her ability to bust the woman’s chops absolutely whenever she felt like it. After all this time, it didn’t make any sense to try and dissuade her from doing as the young warrior would just ignore whatever was said and do as she damn well pleased. It was just her nature to be antagonistic, it seemed.

A passing comment about the woman’s battlefield heritage and she could already see the mental eyeroll that Rebecca was giving her. For as good as Agnes could dish it out, she had to admit that Rebecca was good at holding her own against Agnes’ verbal barbs, a state she wasn’t all-together used to. Too many times teammates, co-workers, and the like, would run away balling, a bundled nerve of frustrations over having to deal with her. At least Rebecca was one of the few to hold her ground. On some levels, Agnes respected that. But on others, she saw it as a challenge.

>> ”We’re not on the battlefield…This is my castle, and I’m seriously considering putting in a moat.”

Agnes snorted as she looked around. It really was a tiny little hole-in-the-wall place. She guessed that was supposed to be the point. To get in those few, loyal customers and not get overly swamped with too many clientele so that she could still commit to her life as a hero. On the flip side, it meant that money wasn’t always assured. Hm, maybe the redhead should have invested in a Sunbucks coffee shoppe or something. It would have generated more money, anyways.

Shaking her head, she pulled a toothpick from her pocket and placed it between her teeth. Idly she turned it with her tongue. ”I feel like that’d be counter-productive to the whole ‘earning a living thing’, dontcha think?” She grinned at the redhead. This really was fun for her, as impossible as that seemed. Then again, was it really impossible? More often than not, Agnes was referred to as a b****. Which was fine. It kept the huggers away. Bleh.

>> ”What’ll you be having, Agnes?”

“Not the cheap, watered down s**t you’re already serving every Tom, Dick, and…” She paused as someone wandered by in a Chewbacca costume, causing her to arch her brow and turn back to Rebecca. ”…Hairy. The hell is going on here?”

Agnes had never gone to college, clearly. Her early life, she didn’t even graduate from high school. Her uncle took her on the run not long after he brought her into his life. Still, despite all that, the young woman knew a far bit about the world. She knew what college was but she didn’t have a timetable in her head for when finals and exams were supposed to be. Therefore, finding the bar crowded with twenty-somethings, all of whom were looking for a good time to unwind, seemed a little foreign to her.

Even the greatest still had things to learn, it would seem.

As an owner of her own establishment, Rebecca enjoyed her uptick in business, because it meant more money for herself and her employees. She worked her ass off to turn The Cove into The Rock Bottom Pub, upgrading from a dead dive bar to a moderately active dive bar. The only time she hated the new business she had managed to drum up was when she worked behind the bar. She employed extroverts so she would have to spend less time facing the public. Being behind the bar was another reminder of the weirdos that populated much of New York City.

Agnes was getting her own taste of the oddness of her urban clientele when some college kid in a Wookie costume walked in as if he was not a spectacle. As far as Rebecca was concerned, it was just attention seeking behavior, and she would not reward him with her shock or incredulousness. ”The college hipsters and frat boys are out in full force tonight,” she replied to Agnes, who had also likely never had the collegiate experience.

Even if the fighter claimed she was not looking for the “cheap, watered down s**t,” this was not Rebecca’s first time drinking with her stubborn teammate. Agnes was not a fancy drinker, but she was not some high-class palate looking for a micro-brew IPA infused with grapefruit. Rebecca went a step up from the swill (Bud Light and Coors Light) some of her customers pounded back, cracking open a can of Molson and sliding the Canadian beer over to her teammate. ”So, if you were looking for a well-educated potential husband, the field’s out in full force,” she joked.

Rebecca grabbed a bottle of gin and poured herself a glass, along with tonic water and ice. She was working hard, and she deserved to reward herself. She sipped at her clear, bubbly beverage and looked over the brunette. As fighters, they knew each other well, but Agnes was intentionally an enigma as a person. Closed off, cold, distant. (In some ways, a woman after Rebecca’s own heart.) It was hard to get any information about her beyond anything skin and scar deep. ”Of course, if that’s not your speed, I think there’s a small gaggle of sorority girls in the back corner near the pool table.”

>> ”The college hipsters and frat boys are out in full force tonight,”

Agnes rolled her eyes. This wasn’t her only experience dealing with this kind of clientele. She remembered when she traveled with her Uncle Blood that there were a couple of times where the two of them found themselves in a town that was completely over-run by the vermin. Kids takng a break from college life to drink and party. There had been a couple of times where she herself had been approached but one look from her uncle had been enough to send them packing. Now she only saw them as locusts; a plague that would roll into areas, use up the resources, and then flee when it came time to pay the tab.

”My condolences,” she said as she tipped her head to the redhead. Agnes liked to be the thorn in the woman’s side, but she still have some form of respect for her. Besides, it anyone was going to get under her skin, she would rather it be herself and not some pretentious kid dressed up in a furry costume.

Before long, the tattooed woman retrieved what Agnes had been waiting for – her drink. She heard the can pop open and titled her head as she caught the scent of her favorite Canadian brew. When it slid across the counter, Agnes wrapped her hand around it and sighed in satisfaction at the sensation off the cool metal against the palm of her hand. She barely got a sip in before Rebecca started to fire her own barbs at her, mainly concerning an aspect about the warrior that absolutely no one on the team knew about.

>> ”So, if you were looking for a well-educated potential husband, the field’s out in full force… Of course, if that’s not your speed, I think there’s a small gaggle of sorority girls in the back corner near the pool table.”

Agnes was in mid-sip when Rebecca started. Truth was that her sexuality was something that no one (except for maybe Doc) had any inkling about. Despite the woman’s want for privacy and her inability to open up about herself, the reality was that Agnes herself didn’t know which way she really swung. She never had the experiences necessary to help her figure that part out about herself. Her uncle died not long after they went on the run and since then she’s been obsessed with saving people and keeping herself safe. Who had the time to even think about boyfriends or girlfriends?

Elegantly Agnes flipped a middle finger towards Rebecca as she lifted the can of beer to her lips and took a long sip. When she had finished, once again the can was returned to the bar top. ”I’m a kid in a candy store, aren’t I?” Agnes grumbled to herself. ”At least you’re business tonight. Maybe your b**** of a boss will actually be able to afford to buy you healthcare?”

In a morbidly curious way, Rebecca was hoping her taunt toward Agnes might yield something useful. She was not the leader who needed to know everything about her team, but it was nice to know something notable about the people she chose to let into her life. Agnes had been around for five years, and in all that time, the personal details of the fighter were flimsy to non-existent. It made some members of the team curious, and others cautious. Rebecca found herself more annoyed than curious; how guarded could a woman be after putting her life in her team’s hands time and time again?

Naturally, Rebecca’s teasing inquiry into Agnes’s personal tastes was met with a well earning middle finger. If there were going to be no answers, at least she could enjoy her comment landing with maximum effectiveness.

The healthcare comment was a fair return jab, but not one Rebecca was going to take kindly to. ”Oy, I’ll have you know my full time girls get coverage.” The bar required minimal staffing, so there were really only two “full time” girls, and a bunch of part timers taking spare hours when they had time outside of schoolwork and social lives. It was still important for Rebecca to consider herself the type of boss who took care of her own.

”As for our… other thing,” she said, not wanting to mention the X-Men in a public space, ”I would classify that as a non-profit venture. You’re all technically volunteers.” Rebecca sipped from her drink and scoffed. ”We’re like a charity I can’t report that comes with no tax breaks. ****ing government,” she mumbled to herself bitterly. It would always irk her that the country she had grown to call home would sooner throw her in jail than celebrate her for combating crime in one of the world’s most crime-ridden cities.

Rebecca thought back to her team, and to Zero’s recent run-in with a rat leading to a five-hundred dollar shot. With a deep sigh, Rebecca shrugged and grumbled, ”And hell, I still find myself footing bills for that team, too, sometimes.” They were relying on reserves, Rebecca’s “spare” income, and Agnes’s ill-gotten help when she could spare it. Crime fighting was a costly venture that produced no revenue, and that was an unrealistic business-model she as of yet had no solution for.

>> ” ”Oy, I’ll have you know my full time girls get coverage.”

Agnes smirked as she arched her eyebrow. Lifting her head, she turned and looked left and right, down the length of the bar and then around the rest of the establishment. For someone how had full-time girls, it was strange how they just didn’t happen to be around. However, there was the possibility that Rebecca was referring to a different set of girls. The clothing that the redhead chose to work in was, shall we say, key to ensuring a good tip from certain patrons. It would have been a failure on her part to not bring it up. she then gestured to Rebecca’s more than ample chest.

”As minimal as possible, I see.” She grinned and took a sip from her beer.

She enjoyed egging on the redhead. She didn’t know why but it was just one of those things that brought a smile to the woman’s face. Maybe it was because she had a problem with authority figures, or maybe it was because she had been a loner for so long that she didn’t trust anyone else to truly lead her. It was actually not accurate to say that Agnes didn’t trust the woman, and she certainly didn’t want to lead the team, but maybe this was just her way connecting.

>> ”As for our… other thing… I would classify that as a non-profit venture. You’re all technically volunteers…We’re like a charity I can’t report that comes with no tax breaks. ****ing government,”

Agnes snorted. ”Heh. Yeah. Go ahead. Use the government as a reason as to why I don’t get dental.” Truth was that she didn’t need it thanks to her healing factor. It wasn’t the strongest healing factor in the world but it did help that Agnes didn’t suffer from the same medical needs as most of the other members of the team. Becca here had to be thankful for that much, at least.

However, that didn’t mean that when the others suffered that Rebecca didn’t pay the price for it. Yes, they pretty much operated out of a rented floor in a hospital, and yes, there was a grumpy nurse that did what she could to help them, but in reality they still had to find a way to pay for used medical supplies. After all, as she said, they weren’t funded by the government so free medical care wasn’t on the table. That was a stress that even Agnes could see on the woman’s face.

>> ”And hell, I still find myself footing bills for that team, too, sometimes.”

Sighing she watched the woman closely before she set her can of beer down, opened her jacket and reached in. She pulled out a small envelope and slid it, subtly, across the table for her. It was cash, not as much as she normally brings to the woman, but it was still something to add to the till. She beat the sh*t out of pair of drug dealers who were getting ready to sell to some kids. They must have been small fish because they definitely didn’t have as much money as she would have expected from such ne’er-do-wells.

”I was going to give this to you at work tomorrow,” she said low. Then she shrugged her shoulders. ”But I’m trying to enjoy my beer and your whining is taking me out of the moment.” Agnes, such a caring woman.

It was really Rebecca’s own fault for leaving her wording so vulnerable in the presence of Agnes. The more time she spent with the woman, she was able to say with relative certainty that they did not hate each other. Did Agnes see annoying Rebecca as a pastime to enjoy when she was bored or the opportunity presented itself? That was a different matter. To the pest’s credit, her comment was clever and well-timed. It was fortunate Rebecca was rarely shy and moderately vain. ”Oh yes, shame on me for using my tits as a weapon for attention and tips,” she replied in a flat tone, immune to Agnes’s judgment. ”If you’re looking and pointing, that just means it’s working.”

Agnes made a crack about dental, but Rebecca overlooked it. Truthfully, for all the damage Combatant took on through extracurriculars, she was rarely a concern with her baseline heightened healing. If she could bottle that power up and give it to the rest of the team, she would be tempted to for the savings on health costs alone. (Of course, she never would go that far, finding mutant experimentation detestable, but she could see the practical benefits.)

It was costs of health and team maintenance that got Rebecca to voice an unexpectedly genuine frustration she had been dealing with recently. It was hard to be idealistic when money made everything go around, including superheroing. Agnes had no qualms shying from idealism, and reminded Rebecca by offering up a small envelope. The owner of the bar looked around to make sure no patrons were looking on at what could very well be some kind of shady deal, but she took the envelope regardless.

Eyeing the other woman, Rebecca had a moment of morbid curiosity. ”You look pretty good for a woman fresh out of some dirty underground cage fight,” she observed, before gesturing up and down at Agnes with her drink hand, adding, ”All things considered.” Agnes was surprisingly an attractive woman in her own right, but now would be an inconvenient time to admit that.

>> ”Oh yes, shame on me for using my tits as a weapon for attention and tips…If you’re looking and pointing, that just means it’s working.”

Agnes couldn’t help giving the woman a hard time. It really was one of her favorite things to do, especially when she walked into things so blindly, how could Agnes not school her on some things? But be that as it may, there was a begrudging respect for the woman. She didn’t always agree with the way that she led the team, but she could understand that the woman always did what was necessary in order to get the desired results: wither it was making the tough call as a leader or flashing a bit extra t**s for a good tip. Either way, the woman knew what sacrifice meant and Agnes was glad for that. It’s hard to follow a leader who doesn’t understand what it is like for a soldier in the trenches.

Deep down, she knew that Rebecca was doing whatever she could. She also knew, that the second she slid that envelope of ill-gotten money over, that Rebecca would take it. They had some pretty nasty arguments about it in the past but when money just pinched tighter and tighter, the ideality had become just a little more pragmatic. There was nothing wrong with taking money that was freely being given to her – so long as she didn’t ask where. Besides, she knew Agnes well enough to know that she wasn’t doing anything totally illegal.

The one thing that Rebecca should have been grateful for was that Agnes wasn’t the type to rub this little arrangement of theirs back in her face. In the end, despite her grumbling and all her pent-up rage, and the mystery that enveloped her, the woman really did care about her teammates. If this was her way of showing that, then so be it.

There was a heavy pause between them when the redhead took the money and Agnes took another sip of her beer. That second was all it took for the redhead to do the one thing that Agnes absolutely hated from anyone on the team – she complimented her.

>> ”You look pretty good for a woman fresh out of some dirty underground cage fight…All things considered.”

It was no secret that Agnes detested receiving compliments. It was hard when it came from the likes of Cait and Astrid, who were pretty much made of fluff and gumballs. But when it came from some like Rebecca, it was just as bad as receiving a snakebite on her ankle. It curled in her lips, causing her to momentarily bare her teeth in revulsion. She rolled her eyes as what would only be taken as a compliment before she turned on her seat, giving the woman her back and staring out over the expanse of the bar.

”Blow it out your a**, Red.” she grumbled as she took another swig from her beer. ”I already told you, I’m out of your league.”

Agnes sat in silence for a few moments, her quietly nursing her beer and simply saying nothing. One inebriated individual attempted to stalk up to the stool next to hers and leer at her with no uncertain intentions on his mind. A few alcohol scents passes were made at her but as the man leaned in dangerously close, his hand reaching for her knee, the young woman was a blur of movement. With precision, her free hand snatched the man by his sleeve-covered wrist and twisted it to such a degree that for a second it almost looked as if he had a false arm – there was no other way it could bend that way. The man drunkenly stammered and whimpered, but Agnes held tight.

”I said…no…” she whispered. She then looked over her shoulder to Becca who was still there, observing. ”Buy this guy a drink and send him on his way, will you?” With that she released the man’s wrist and sent him stumbling over his stool in a stupor. Agnes sighed as she adjusted her jacket and mumbled under her breath. ”Jacka**…”

It was no secret that Rebecca was not the type of woman who freely gave compliments. Singing the praises of her daughter and espousing words of love and appreciation to Jesse were a matter all their own. Outside of her family, compliments were reserved for the necessary and practical. Occasionally, she would praise improvements from her team in combat or technique, or give words of reassurance to pick up Cait or Raine when it might raise their spirits and their morale. Compliments for Agnes were a different beast, because she was prickly to any flattering words. Naturally, this made them an effective retort when Agnes wanted to screw with the team leader.

Agnes spat back, claiming she was beyond dating someone like her. It would be offensive if Rebecca did not agree that the two of them together was a preposterous idea. She was already with Jesse when Agnes and the X-Men started crossing paths, and Combatant joined the team around the same time as the wedding, so the timelines never lined up. Try as she might to bust up her face, Agnes was actually an attractive woman, so naturally, Rebecca mused at least once about what things would have been like if life played out differently. Her conclusion was easy to reach: they would have been a disaster. A bickering, heated disaster where they would not be able to even channel that heat into hate sex. They were better off as antagonistic teammates. ”Play hard to get. I love it,” she teased.

Of course, not everyone saw Agnes as a bad idea, because not everyone knew better. Rebecca took a moment to tend to one of her less obnoxious costumers at the other end of the bar, and that offered a window for a drunk sleazebag to make a poor life choice. Rebecca was not within earshot to hear what the man’s attempt at romance entailed, but everyone in the building was within earshot of Agnes shoving him into the bar, controlled by a bent arm that had seen better days.

Rebecca hastened her return to Agnes, not out of concern for her, but pity for the idiot that tried to make an inappropriate move. The brunette heart (and arm) breaker suggested she purchase the man a drink, but the owner of the bar scoffed. ”He looks like he’s had plenty to drink. Head home, boy, and just feel lucky she left that arm on.”

One Agnes’s suitor had exited the bar, Rebecca eyed her and smirked. ”Look on the brightside. After that show, I doubt anyone else is going to take the chance to hit on you,” she assured her, before adding, ”Not unless they have a death wish, at least.”

Agnes was never in the mood to be f***ed with. She didn’t allow people to get close to her and she immediately made that fact known. Like a rattlesnake trying to warn its prey, Agnes’ glare and her tense demeanor were usually a strong enough warning sign to keep people away from her. She was just that kind of woman that people didn’t want to mess with. They wanted vapid blondes with airheaded laughs who would believe all the lying BS that was fed to them in to get them to open their legs. Agnes wasn’t that kind of woman and yet, still, at last call, she was usually the last ditch effort for someone to get laid.

It was a hard lesson to teach them, but she was more than happy to comply.

The drunkard who had attempted to get too close immediately felt her wrath. The booze that saturated his mind must had made the whole ordeal move through like a sudden burst of coffee in his brain. Where a second ago he had been too drunk to think straight, the next he was suddenly in blinding and agonizing pain. He was pushed against the bartop, his body hunched over, and his arm twisted forcefully behind his back. In the morning he probably wouldn’t even remember this happened and would simply be carrying an unexplained soreness in his arm.

To be honest it was better this way. Agnes didn’t need the man to remember her and then either try to track her down to apologize or to sue her. The X-Men didn’t need that kind of pressure on them at the moment.

Agnes held the man’s arm firmer, grinding her teeth as she hissed in his ear. The man yelped and cried, but his voice as lost to the young woman. Keeping her eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, she immediately caught the presence of the bar’s owner run back to her side. Agnes tried to be generous, offering to buy the man a drink before sending him on his way but the redhead apparently had another notion.

>> ”He looks like he’s had plenty to drink. Head home, boy, and just feel lucky she left that arm on.”

With permission to let the guy go (and keep another drink off her tab), Agnes removed her weight from him, stepped back, and proceeded to shove him away from the bar and releasing his arm. The rest of the patrons watched in surprise, whispering among themselves. A few of the women in the bar nodded their heads and waggled their brows in an impressed manner; others merely shook their heads and turned their gazes down; the men quickly turned away to avoid eye contact.

>> [color=palegreen[ ”Look on the brightside. After that show, I doubt anyone else is going to take the chance to hit on you…Not unless they have a death wish, at least.”

[/color][/i]

Agnes rolled her eyes. The woman was hard-edged but she still had an annoying sunny side that made the young warrior want to hurl. She returned to her seat at the bar, returning to facing her and tilted her head. Chin slightly up for a second, she observed the redhead for a second before tilting her head down and scoffing.

”You’d be surprised…” she offered mysteriously. She then sighed. There was another reason that she had come to this bar simply than busting her boss’s chops – she had an idea. She knew that the redhead was getting a little burned out and needed to have some…fun. Agnes had just the prescription for that. So, taking a sip from her beer, she sighed as she sat back, hands in the pockets of her jacket. ”Red…” she called out to her next time she passed, looking frazzled. ”What time you off?” she asked. She then grinned, rolling her toothpick between her teeth, waggling her eyebrows. ”I got a hot date in mind for you.”
[/div]

Luckily for Rebecca, the drunk, and everyone else at the bar, Agnes was convinced to release him and allow him to retreat with his tail between his legs. Rebecca had no use for fights at the Rock Bottom Pub; some dives thrived on that kind of notoriety, but her clientele was a diverse mix of townies, college kids, regulars, and irregulars. People wanted to feel safe at the bar when they came out for the night. Letting Agnes manhandle her harasser might be good for business, letting her female patrons feel more secure. Letting Agnes smash the man into a table would have cost her a table and some of her more anxious customers. It was about maintaining a balance.

Both X-Women returned to their drinks for the moment, and Agnes dismissed the idea that she was scaring off all her suitors. The Combatant had a point; men could be bold to the point of stupidity, and even some women might be intrigued by the bad girl who kicks asses of perverts. There were truly people for all types, even if Rebecca doubted she would ever see someone truly crack the outer shell of the frigid fighter.

Rebecca made a quick martini for a punk-rock girl at the other end of the bar, and when she returned to her least favorite patron, she was asked about the time she was off work. It was the kind of comment she had received from people at the bar before, but not what she expected from Agnes of all people. She cocked an eyebrow, but the brunette elaborated that she was not asking for herself, but rather, a “mystery date.”

Once the whole message was delivered, Rebecca felt comfortable scoffing. ”First of all, contrary to whatever goes through that weird mind of yours, I am happily married.” Of course, recently, it was getting harder to cope with her life when her spouse was in another dimension, but Agnes was not aware of those struggles. Rebecca might have vented about money on occasion, but she had no intentions of airing out her emotional struggles.

”Second, even if that was not the case, it’d be a cold day in hell before I let you pick out a suitor for me. You don’t exactly have a reputation for associating with savory, wholesome types.” When vigilantes were the most law-abiding citizens someone knew, it was not a good sign for the rest of their acquaintances.

Okay so maybe Agnes didn’t ask her question in the best of manners. Truth was that Agnes wasn’t the best when it came to conveying certain things. Through her into a situation, such as a mission, where she has to flirt and/or pretend to know what she is talking about and she could do that all the live-long day. Agnes knew how to act, but whenever she was being herself in public, that was an entirely different story. Agnes was sarcastic, enigmatic, and, to put it simply, a complete bitch to some people. Rebecca just happened to get the brunt of that.

Right now, her invitation, the waggle of her eyebrows, and the sarcastic smile on her lips was enough to make the most trusting of people suspicious of her. When would Agnes ever actually take the time to have the fore thought to set up someone she liked on a date, let along Rebecca Grey? Of course it was suspicious and Rebecca had every right to arch a brow at her.

Still, despite all that, Agnes would act offended.

>> ”First of all, contrary to whatever goes through that weird mind of yours, I am happily married.”

Agnes rolled her eyes and silently mouthed along with what Rebecca was saying. She heard the schtick one too many times. She got it, Rebecca and Jesse were happily married and, honestly, she wouldn’t never get between that. She actually liked Jesse and finding out the individual was stuck in some mirror world was actually a bit heartbreaking. But what was more disturbing was how the two of them continued to be faithful to one another. Truthfully, how could she really understand it? Agnes didn’t have experience dating, much less being in love, was that all love was? Willfully sacrificing your happiness in the name of loyalty?

Anyone who would have known Agnes mind must see her perception as a bit skewed. Agnes was logical and cold-minded. As much as she appreciated Jesse and what he did for the X-Men, a marriage just seemed impractical. Children couldn’t happen. Sex couldn’t happen. Hell, even an understanding or loving hug at the end of a particularly hard day was impossible.; so why bother?

Hmph. Well, it wasn’t something that Agnes was looking to argue right now so she let it go.

>> ”Second, even if that was not the case, it’d be a cold day in hell before I let you pick out a suitor for me. You don’t exactly have a reputation for associating with savory, wholesome types.”

Again, that faux-offended expression flashed across her face for a moment but after giving it a second of thought she shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head. Despite the fact that Rebecca really had no base for judging her choice in dates since she had never been seen with one, let along even a friend she would consider for such a task, Agnes was willing to give the win to the redhead. So, taking her beer in hand, she downed the last bit of it, slammed the can onto the bar top and shrugged her shoulders.

”Well, I tried.” she said with a sigh. Hopping off the stool, she shoved her hands into her pockets, pulled out a few bills and tossed them onto the counter before turning on her heel and heading towards the exit. However, before she left, she called out over her shoulder. ”I’ll walk you home when you’re done locking this dump up.” And, with that, she made way towards the exit, shoved the door open and stepped out into the cool night. As much fun as it was busting the boss’s chops, she would occupy herself otherwise until Rebecca was done for the evening. This was New York, after all. Plenty to do.

Rebecca was appreciative of Agnes’s decision to hold her tongue regarding her marriage. Jesse was her one and only, but she was not blind to the practical reasons to consider other options. In many aspects of her life, she was a pragmatist, but Jesse always drew the romantic out of her, and she did not want to lose that. Agnes was another practical person, and her views were not shaded by sentimentality, so it was hard for her to justify or understand Rebecca and Jesse’s relationship. She was, to her credit, not coming from a place of cruelty or hate; they were just at odds with her worldview.

When the barkeep dismissed Agnes’s associations as uncouth, the way the brunette feigned offense caused her to snicker. Agnes was a pain in the ass, but she was not without humor. She was not a jovial jokester, but her attitude also showed off bits of her actual personality. If she was not so often insufferable, she might be fun to have around more frequently.

As suddenly as she arrived, Agnes was laying down money and bidding Rebecca farewell, letting her know she would walk her out at the end of the night. Rebecca actually snorted at the idea of being escorted home after work. ”Ha, cute idea,” she joked as the woman headed toward the door. ”Good night, Agnes.”

---

The night crawled after Agnes left, but Rebecca made it to closing time. It was surprising how much more quickly time passed when she could converse, even if it was with someone like the Combatant. Rebecca was just craving distraction; when she was working or going through the typical motions of her day, she had too much time to think about the problems surrounding her. How did people clear their heads? Yoga came to mind, but it felt so un-Rebeccca, it quickly left said mind.

Turning the key in the door to lock it for the night, Rebecca could see a shadow being cast by the streetlight behind her—someone else’s shadow.

Rebecca spun around on her heel, ready to strike, but stopped completely when she realized who was there. ”Agnes?” she asked, lowering a balled fist. What was she… oh God. ”Holy s***, you were serious. You know I can take care of myself,” she said dismissively, rolling her eyes. She might not have had a savant-esque mutation to help her learn how to fight, but the leader of the X-Men was skilled in her own right.

The second Agnes exited the bar, she knew that she was going to be back. She wasn’t kidding when she said that she would be back to walk Rebecca home, but truth was that she wasn’t exactly walking her home. She had other plans in mind for the redhead, those that she knew she needed, desperately. Now before the shipping and fangirling nutjobs take these thoughts too far, Agnes certainly didn’t have THAT in mind. Yes, the redhead would be what most considered pretty, to Agnes that simply wasn’t how she viewed the woman.

But with that out of the way, the truth was that she actually did have a date planned for her – herself. Nothing romantic, but something that would generate a guaranteed release of emotion that Agnes knew Rebecca needed. It was no secret to the team that Rebecca was running herself ragged trying to keep the team together and trying to ensure that they had supplies and medical treatments. Even though Agnes had been the only one that Rebecca had actually said anything on the matter to, it was only because she had drunkenly blurted the truth out. All in all, the stress was getting to her.

Oh Agnes wasn’t heartless. Part of her really wanted to help out more but how, she didn’t know. As much as she wanted to remain a neutral-esque presence on the team, her empathy showed through time and again. On this particular night, knowing that stress was beginning to weigh heavily on the boss’s shoulders, Agnes had a plan in mind to help her.

She just needed her to get off her shift.

---

It was hours later, approaching the time that she knew the last of the barflys would be shooed out that Agnes returned. Her night had been surprisingly uneventful for a change. She didn’t go out to pick any fights, instead she merely camped out at a nearby diner, treating herself to dinner out and reading the newspaper. Even now and again she passed by the bar, slinking into the shadows and keeping an eye on the front doors, straining to listen and hopefully catching nothing bad happening. Thankfully all was quiet, right up until the doors let out the last patrons.

Removing herself from her spot and shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket, she made her way across the street chewing idly on her toothpick. A few of the drunken men attempted to come up to her but a small snarl was all that was needed to frighten them off. Once the ramble was clear, Agnes planted herself on a nearby lamppost and waited.

When she saw that flash of copper hair and the tense shoulders slip out and lock the bar behind her, Agnes smirked, pushing herself off of the lamppost and approaching. It seemed that Rebecca didn’t take her earlier comments seriously because she jumped and spun around to face her, poised to strike. Without meaning to, Agnes dissected the woman’s approach and sighed as she shook her head. She was already scrutinizing, picking out everything that the redhead was doing wrong, but managed to wrangle herself in to smirk at Rebecca’s reaction.

>> ”Agnes? Holy s***, you were serious. You know I can take care of myself,”

”Come on, Red, don’t insult the both of use like that,” she said with a sigh. ”Adjust your foot another two degrees and stop putting so much weight in your core.” she stopped and side. This wasn’t why she was greeting her. She cleared her throat and approached. ”Nevermind, you’re done, right?” she asked, gesturing to the bar. ”Come on, your ‘hot date’ is waiting,” she said. Walking passed Rebecca, she nudged her, hard, on the shoulder as a means to get her to follow. ’And I don’t like to be kept waiting.”