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Margo hadn't thought she was rambling, just saying what came to mind. She realized too late that Richard seemed to be finding her adorable and flushed slightly at that, then again as he turned abruptly to ask her a question.

"Margo, have you ever considered theater or acting?"

She blinked at that, because, really? Disregarding adorable because maybe her big brother was the one person in the world who she'd tolerate to think of her that way, but an actor? Sure, she liked to play at it sometimes just for the sake of being silly, but it was nothing more than that, right?

"Eh, I don't think I could," She shook her head after a moment of consideration, laughed. "I'd be a terrible actor. And I couldn't deal with the attention, enough said." That much was true; even the thought of that was enough to make her hot and greasy breakfast not sit so well.

And as for what she had seen of the city, "I've been in New York for almost a year now. Uh, I haven't seen any ballets or the such either, so we should totally do that sometime!" For her part, she'd long wanted to go see one of the musicals, but it had never seemed like the type of thing a girl went to alone. "If you'd like, I mean. Whenever. Or a museum. Or the New York library, have you seen that?"

The possibilities were endless- occupational tourism, indeed.

Doing good was the best way to feel good. While Margo's powers might have told her the exact opposite sometimes, there was no question about how Alex's smile and the tension seeming to come off his shoulders made it all worth it. This was what she had this mutation for, period.

"Thank you, Alex." She smiled back, if a little embarrassed that he'd liked it. "Okay, first things first. Have you ever been to Disneyland? Disney world?" Because she was taking him out for gelato sometime but that was no good if he hadn't seen Disney, right? "I'm taking you there or some other theme park, and we're going on all the rides. So you can get all that screaming out."

Joking aside, though, there was a pause as the girl struggled to find a reply to that. "Just because you've always done it that way doesn't mean it's not completely stupid," she said finally. Case in point, just about anything you could think of. "Alex, you're not fighting a losing battle. You aren't going to lose, okay?"

Urban Dictionary had nailed it. And Margo had never felt so screwed because of that, not since the same web address had torn away the remnants of her childhood all of five years ago.

Since when did she frequent Urban Dictionary? The website was a gutter of NC-17 rated filth, to say the least- no, scratch that, since when did she procrastinate? Yet here she found herself, and it had very much to do with the one thing she couldn't put off: the future.

It was with a sigh that the girl clicked out of her browser and looked across the room to the mound of mail dumped unceremoniously at the foot of the bed- letters, flyers, but most of all, college brochures and packages. To say that every major institute of secondary learning was represented would have been an understatement; it was the culmination of six months' worth of signing up for everything she could get her hands on, and constantly forgetting to check up on it, and this was the result.

It had taken her an hour and a half to sort them into no and maybe piles, which had helped a little, except the maybe pile was still overflowing the rim of the laundry basket in the corner. That was about when Margo had pulled out her laptop to try and look all the places up, and had ended up procrastinating on Urban Dictionary instead. But, what was she supposed to do? The Internet said to ask authority figures, but those she had none.

........But wait. Xavier's touted itself as a school so there had to be a guidance counselor, right? A college and career advisor, even one that was most likely hopelessly under-qualified, would be better than nothing at this point.

That was how the girl found herself knocking on door to said office, accompanied by a laundry basket.

"If you want to, why not?" That teasing in her eyes was there not because Margo didn't care- on the contrary, because she did and because her best attempt at a pep talk had just been shot down. Play was the next best thing, right? "I dare you to. Scream. I'll cover if anyone hears, because betcha scream like a girl."

All in all, it wasn't a bad idea; heaven knows she had done it often enough herself when she'd been younger and not regretted it. Thus Alex was given a moment to either do so or pass it off as the joke it was, while the girl tugged at the (literal) knot in her hair.

"Run away how? How could you think that would help?"

Because in her mind all she saw in that was the scared street kid who she'd only ever heard about, who she'd never learn to care for because he was stupid, who would never be Alex as she knew him. It was for Alex and not the kid that she let the subtle calmness wash over the area, not caring that this was what Lucy had hated or that she would hate herself later when the echoes came... because it was for Alex.

With bated breath, she watched Jude flip the toggle. A lifetime of indoctrination of don't mess with what you don't know did make the girl a little cautious, but when a second passed and nothing blew up and Jude was going on a button spree, the grin that spread across her face was every bit as wide as his- it was impossible not to be excited when you had your own jet-sized party of strobe lights and music.

>> "Dance party anyone? Dance?"

A symphony of shades of orange flickered all around them. Margo's pulse had synced itself to the music long before he even asked.

"Do I even need to say?" Oh, but what a colorful glove compartment the jet had! "The only question is, do you want to catch the crazy emo waves or no?" Because she could make that either way and it was good to ask, right?

Having retained her job at this coffee shop for almost a year now, Margo had learned by now the ebbs and flows of caffeine traffic and how to work them. She was certain to be kept busy in the mornings and then at the lunch break, and then not until much later in the evening when the studiers came in. It was with that knowledge in mind that she'd picked a relatively quiet period to report in this afternoon, having confirmed that calculus would just be a review day today.

She'd been reading in the back, undisturbed for a good half hour as no more than a few customers drifted in and out. Reading and rereading, then rereading again. The title was one she'd seen in Richard's collection and picked up at the Mansion library for that reason only; as it turned out it was the journal of some biomedical engineer and completely unintelligible for all parties without some sort of degree in the sort of thing, as Margo soon discovered.

So much for that. Another seven minutes in she'd struggled her way through the first chapter with a vague notion of understanding and a frustrated headache, so she tucked the book under her arm and swung around to the front to see if she could be of any help- just in time to see the stunning young woman with oversized coffee mug sweep in.

>> "Fill? Coffee? Please?"

Said lady was smeared all over with grease and by all appearances needed the caffeine, well, now. Neither was she being helped now. So Margo snagged the classy mug by its handle and did so, giving her a quick smile. "Will do. How would you like it?"

Sponsor... adopted... reasons... wait what? Margo blinked at the back of his head but asked no further on the matter. Sure, she wanted to know, but it didn't exactly seem like the sort of conversation Jude wanted to have at the moment. Yeah, at 2 a.m.? Heck no.

Suddenly there were ice poles like on the public buses, and Margo found one to hold on to as the ramp inched- or, more like quarter-centimetered- backwards. Maybe it wasn't too nice to poke fun at the guy who'd gotten into them in here and put up with her all night, just like it wasn't her place to ask about his personal life?

Oh, well.

"Actually," she tugged at the handle with an effort, "I take back what I said, okay? Carbon copy, cubic centimeter, it's more like you only have a cc's worth of coordination with everything else of the 'can't have hand sanitizer around because the high schoolers will eat it!' attitude."

Somehow she got the jet door, with its own little stepladder clattering as she hopped over it, open. Then she was in. A moment of fumbling for the control switch later the jet's lights came on.

"Welcome aboard," grinned the girl in her most adventurous cyborg voice, "Please mind the gap."