You sit sulking at the back of the Blackbird. Professor is sitting in the cockpit with Scott, and you can smell the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Both of them have consumed vast amounts of that liquid ambrosia during three days, denying you the pleasure, telling you’re wired enough as it is, drinking three liters a day can’t be healthy.
You can already feel it, steaming hot, thick liquid flowing down your throat, with added aroma of chocolate and her in the mix. You’re nervous, but you have gotten quite skilled at hiding your trembling hands and occasional twitches. You’ll be landing in ten minutes. It’ll take you half an hour to take a shower and find fresh clothes, and since this wasn’t a real mission, merely a lifeguard duty, there’s no need for briefing. You can grab her and take her away as soon as you find her.
You find her from the back garden, sitting with Bobby in the sun. Iceman throws you an icy stare when his wife jumps up squealing and rushes to you, throwing her arms around you and giving you a warm welcoming hug. You close your eyes and press your cheek briefly against the crown of her head and smirk when you feel her hand snake in to the breast pocket of your jacket.
For a moment you considered hiding her present in to the front pocket of your jeans, actually tried it, but realized that the first step you’d have taken would have crushed the package. And that really would have been taking it too far, anyway.
She’s staring at it, small white orb, carved hollow and filled with miniature scenery with trees, snow and everything, made from sugar and skewered to a wooden stick.
You found the shop selling those by accident, on your search of coffee house when you had the rare opportunity to escape from Xavier and Scott for half an hour. You would have killed for a cup of any kind of coffee, but you sat obediently in the corner when the old man who made and sold the edible pieces of art carved out the scenery you described to him. The look on her face is speaking volumes, telling you it was worth to wait. Old man did a good job capturing the image. You can almost read the sign hanging over ramshackle bar, and the motorcycle hitched on to the trailer at the back of your truck looks like it could roar to life at any minute now.
You see Bobby closing in long before she realizes. Get ready and catch the fragile lollypop as it falls from her fingers when Bobby’s hand lands on her shoulder and hand it back to her. Your world, and she accepts it, bright blush creeping over her cheeks and making Bobby snort and steer her away from you.
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