Watchmaker was sitting at the front counter of his shop in the busy part of downtown New York City. Hundreds of people went by every minute, and more than half stopped to gaze upon the amazing and seemingly magical displays of clockwork majestry that Watchmaker proudly displayed in his windows. There were watches that had chessboards that played against you, watches that displayed the time from several different places at the touch of a button, and watches that were so intricate that, if you knew how to read them, you could navigate your way anywhere in the world. That was his trade. It was who he was, not just what he did.

Displayed alongside said watches, clocks with equally astounding functions ticked away. There was a clock that used the gyrotational power of the earth to rewind itself, a clock that had birds that actually flew out of hidden doors. There was even a clock that could play chess, checkers, backgammen, and shogi against you. Besides that, there were dozens of automotons doing dozens of things. Impossible things.

He was oiling a watch he had made recently. Though this watch was nothing out of the ordinary, he treated it with the same tender loving care he did his other creations. He treated it with a reverence and love he had never had the occasion to show another human being. Nobody could, in his mind, match up to the regularity of clockwork.

There were so many interesting sights to see in New York! Even beyond the tall buildings and tourist hotspots, New York had a surprising amount of unique vendors. It seemed that one could find anything here in this teeming megapolis if only one had the cash.

Unfortunately, this sylph did not. Vega, fresh from working a mid-shift at the Full Circle Book Store enjoyed the commercial sights of New York as most of the less-than-ridiculously-rich did by window shopping. Only a bit of plate glass stood between some of the most marvelous items and Vega. Fashion, souvenirs, technology, and... The snow topped girl stopped before a rather intimidating display. They were clocks. Maybe. Well, more than clocks. Her eyebrows raised more and more as she scanned deeper into the store. Much more than clocks. In fact, she recognized a game of shogi being played by one of these more-than-clocks.

Infinitely curious, Vega broke window shopping rule number one and pulled open the door to the store.

Inside more terrific and magical cogs and pins working in a furious display of creative design. Curiosity piled on top of curiosity as she watched the magnificent creations at play. If a person attended the shop, she did not see, entirely too many interesting mechanical things happened in the store for Vega to notice simple flesh and blood.

Watchmaker didn't even pause from his work when the little bell above the door tinkled. It was probably just another tourist asking if his creations really didn't use any electricity. Either that or a resident of New York who came to buy one, but didn't have enough money. Even Watchmaker's simplest creations cost hundreds of dollars, and most of the ones displayed in the windows cost in the thousands. Business was good, even though most people that came into his shop were useless. Big wig business people, politicians, even the president had all ordered watches and clocks and other devices from him. It made for good money, and even if he retired now, Watchmaker was pretty much set for life. But Watchmaker wouldn't retire, for he loved his job way too much.

Finished with the watch, after a couple minutes working on it, he looked around the shop, trying to see who it was that had entered. You never know, they might actually be looking to buy something and have the money. He snorted, thinking Yeah, that'll be the day. Watchmaker was actually at his worktable in the rear of the shop, around a corner where anyone entering couldn't see him. Turning to the three foot tall metal automoton next to him, Watchmaker said "James, will you please show our guest back here. Be polite this time."

James answered in his deep clanking voice, saying "Fine, fine, but that'l use up my quota of patience for the week." He then walked to the front of the shop on his four legs, and did a small bow, sweeping his three-fingered hands in elegant grace. "Madamoiselle, please, this way."

These things, while fantastic, were only machines... or clocks... or something like that. And stores all had to have a person to mind the shop, right? Vega ducked and stretched around in attempts to see someone behind the counter, but alas no luck. A more distinct clanking sound, however, did start. As if there were something metallic (or at least very solid) was approaching. She was looking up and around, but when it stepped into her lesser air peripheral vision, it became clear to Vega that whatever it was, it wasn't a person. It had four legs and that was all too clear when it stepped or... kind of trotted around the corner of the desk.

It came close, bowed and Vega naturally returned the bow though in a less grand and more asian capacity. And then much to Vega's surprise, it spoke. "Madamoiselle, please, this way."

She blinked after the creature's words for a moment before following him to a back room of sorts where the shop attendant or perhaps master creator sat surrounded by various bobbles and bits.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur." Vega bent at the waist in a shallow, but polite bow as she spoke. Her words would perhaps forever be marked by the prescice T's and R's that came of living abroad. Vega wasn't sure if the dark man was actually French, but the uhm... four-legged one had addressed her as mademoiselle and it was common courtesy to return the greetings you are given in a similar manner. At least it's harder to go wrong that way.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur."

Watchmaker didn't look up as he began to pull various cogs and gears and other clockwork components from places all around him. Most of them were less than an inch in diameter, and shiny brass. After a few seconds, he had gathered a pile about five inches tall, and a foot wide. He pulled a briefcase out from under his seat, and opened it. Inside was a collection of screwdrivers, miniature hammers, and plyers. He reached into a drawer and withdrew the chassis of what looked like a bronze pixy. Watchmaker took a small screwdriver and undid several screws, allowing the back plate of the creation to pop open. He closed his eyes, and when he opened him they had a glazed over, distant look, as if he was seeing something else, besides the shop around him. His eyes still on the chassis, his hand dug into the pile until it found a gear, and it was affixed into place.

The proccess was repeated many times, for almost five minutes, before he finally said "Well? Are you just going to stand there or tell me what you need?"

He said nothing at first, instead, choosing to continue his work. Vega hesitated, unsure of the proper etiquette in this situation so she hovered where she stood, simply watching the man's incredible creation process. He was so very precise that it was almost magical. Since Ghost wasn't sure that magic actually existed that left her suspicious of one thing: an active x-gene. Of course, it could be that the man simply was that good. It was hard to tell the difference between talent and super talent. Mutant-hood was not the easiest subject to broach with a stranger, either. Better perhaps to wait and observe...

"Well? Are you just going to stand there or tell me what you need?"

Vega fidgeted. Apparently she'd stood in hesitation for a bit too long. "Uhm. Well, I don't actually need anything. You have some very wonderful and life-like creations, Sir. I just wanted to observe for a time if that is alright with you?" It wasn't like she could replicate any of what he was doing. Vega didn't know much about machines, even clockwork ones.

A nervous hand ran through snowy white locks. Sometimes the unnatural hair color was enough to tip off others to Ghost's true nature, but usually it wasn't enough. It was something replicate-able by humans, though even the best dye jobs grew out and eventually showed roots. That was one proof that what Vega had was natural. As natural as an x-gene.

"Uhm. Well, I don't actually need anything. You have some very wonderful and life-like creations, Sir. I just wanted to observe for a time if that is alright with you?"

Watchmaker sighed. Great, just another gawper, He thought, shaking his head even as he worked. Maybe if I'm rude enough she'll go away... No, scratch that, most people are so desensitized nowadays they don't even know when they're being insulted...

He continued working for a while, letting the woman watch him work his clockwork magic on the little thing before him. After about four minutes, Watchmaker's eyes glassed over even more, so much that the glare from the lights scattered around his shop would make it hard to tell where he was looking, and his hands moved faster and faster. After about ten more minutes of seemingly frantic activity, his eyes returned to normal, and he sat back, rubbing his forehead. He closed the chassis of the pixy creature, and handed it to James. "Wind that up for me, will 'ya?"

"Do I have to? Don't answer that." James caused one of his many attachments, a small key that Watchmaker used to wind up his devices, sprout from one finger, and he then inserted it into the back of the pixy, and wound it up. After a second or two of loud whirring and grinding, he put away the attachment and pressed a button. The pixy stood up, and looked around. It paused, then flitted it's wings faster than the human eye could see, and flew up into the air around the woman.

(OCC, hope you don’t mind me joining like this)
Techno music plates through his earphones, from the view through the window in front of him he mutely observed as the bus he was on ate up the miles, taking him towards his intended destination, taking him home! Ah home sweet home. As soon as he stepped off the plane and took a deep breath, his shoulders seemed to relax slightly, he seem to stand straighter, his eyes came alive a bit more, He was Home!

This was his territory, he knew this place, it was one of the places he considered home turf. This did not mean that he would ever let his guard down, no but he would know almost instinctively if something was wrong. He moved forward from the aircraft and merged into the stream of people, just another person.

Swiftly he navigated thought the big and bustling airport, cleared customs without a hitch and retrieved his luggage from the carousel and made his way to the bus stop.

First to crash for a few hours and then to check on things, but first to get himself a watch, as his last one had broken. He wanted a sturdy one.

And so it was that Hades dressed casually, showered and strolled along the streets in search of a good watch. He preferred one that was not mass produced, no, he liked his things hand made if possible, and besides he had the money to pay for such things.

As he drifted along with the crown, something caught his eye. He moved closer to the store window. What he saw pleased him greatly, as a skilled and experienced craftsman himself he recognised the skill of a master when he saw one, and here was one, as evidenced by his creations. Here was a man who possessed professional honour. The intricate bracelet on his right wrist slinked slightly as Hades opened the door. It was set with runes and carvings, sturdy yet intricate, forged by his own hand.

His excellent hearing picked up voices in the far corner of the shop, but he ignored them for now as his eyes scanned the shelves.

He didn't say yes and, had Vega not lived in New York for these few months, she would have thought that a dismissal in itself. Good thing she'd gotten enough pluck to understand that even though he hadn't said 'yes, stay' he hadn't specifically said 'no, go away' either. She would remain until he actually sent her away because the work was fascinating and the robot thing had invited her here. Besides, the man hardly seemed to be looking at... well, anything.

Vega tried to be as unobtrusive as possible so that he would forget about her and thereby forget to dismiss her. It seemed to work and several minutes went by. As captivating as everything was, it would have been most engaging if Vega were able to understand what was going on. She followed along for a time, she knew the difference between a phillips head and a flat head at least, but once he picked up the pace even his hands and tools seemed a blur.

Once she was lost, Vega found herself watching the... uhm... the other thing. He had three fingers and four legs. She didn't dare attempt to probe the air inside of him ... or it... no, it sounded like a him. Vega attempted a sincere smile for him.

"Wind that up for me, will 'ya?"

So deeply engrossed in her own internal philosophical debate over what crossed the line into sentience, Vega nearly jumped out of her skin when the man spoke. She shifted slightly, thinking the watchmaker had addressed her, but the little man-taur robot reached up for the bug-creature with sarcasm on his lips. That was certainly interesting.

Vega forced herself to let the tension between her shoulders lessen and she re-settled her shoulders in an expression much like a bird resettling its wings. The cranking sound was unsettling, but tolerable. She wanted to see what this creation could do. Would it talk like the other? Was that possible that all those tiny pieces actually went into this thing and it worked the first time? That fact alone got this watch maker major points.

The buggy creation, once wound, stood up and surveyed the room. Was it getting its bearings? Its wings started flapping fast and faster and moments before it took off, Vega realized that it was going to fly: another semi-miraculous feat. It took off much like a humming bird, with its wings a blur and zipped straight for her.

It was instinct. A knee-jerk, gut reaction.

She didn't move her hands or gesture in any obvious way, too many years of hiding had trained her not to, but the air was suddenly heavy in the room. The bug creature was fascinating, but a bit too fast for Ghost to be entirely comfortable. So she made the air in the back room dense. It would be like swimming through soup and hopefully slow the pixie down quite a bit so that she could observe its flight. Vega hadn't really thought about what she was doing, however, and though she had no qualms breathing, the watchmaker might not enjoy virtually palpable oxygen.

Suddenly, the woman flinched as the newly "born" creation zoomed around her head, an almost imperceptable eye twitch betraying her otherwise calm composure. Watchmaker, however, was busy putting away his tools, and did not notice. He did notice when the air around the shop suddenly got thick, like a soup. It gave him a slight start at first, but he was made of sterner stuff than your average New Yorker. He just took deeper, quicker breaths and said "A mutant."

He didn't know how she would react to him callling her that, some had aversions to that label, but Watchmaker himself had never cared what people made of simple flesh and blood thought. Though mutants weren't as elegant as his creations, they were levels of magnitude above humans.

The pixy's flight slowed, its wings beating slower in the heavier air but not having to beat as fast since the action provided more lift. It looked like one of those slow motion videos of hummingbirds, where you could see each muscle as it moved the wings.