Mort was a busy gopher, go for this, go for that. He finished his regular exercises in the warehouse with the crates before the regular shifts arrived. if anyone asked, the 7'6" boy was just a night guard. After exercises, he went to one of the few remaining karate dojo's in the city after the second world war to train for an hour or so with a proper teacher in the arts and language since his father had him fluent in Chinese, Japanese would be the next language he studied beyond technical terms for the martial art.

Leaving the dojo sore in body as well as mind, he was supposed to get a copy of a book from one of the local bookstore. It was a long walk for most without his four foot strides but he made quick time of it at a brisk pace. Apparently it was already ordered but he wasn't told which one it was at so he had to navigate the city to look for it. Another few hours later he had [i]The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha[/i]a Spanish novel by [i]Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra[/i] in his hands. Next came the bar run where he had to travel to the local brewers and retrieve some crates for the legitimate business. 

Finally, he got in the back door by the alley just in time for there to be an ear splitting screach that shattered every beer bottle he just bought. "所有神离弃妓女催生一个狒狒的, 我做了应得的什么神圣的地狱？!?" Clearly it was time for a smoke break before he did something stupid. He squatted down so low that he nearly folded in on himself before a single snap of his legs had him thirty feet in the air to land on the roof. With one hand he took out an altoid box and with the precision only a practiced hand was good at proceeded to pinch out three small balls of hashish to which he plugged into his [url=http://assets.smokingpipes.com/images/products-hr/004-004-2214.jpg]peterson[/url] pipe one at a time to make sure it was evenly distributed. A 'taf-hiss' of a wood match soon had the boy relaxing as he smoked atop Xavier's office skylight as he tried to figure out what to do now while beer dripped off his soaking clothes like rainfall.

They brought him in and let him sleep in the warehouse behind a few small crates stacked into the corner. It was cold and dark and lonely but better than his mothers penthouse any day of the week. In exchange he was a helper for the bar and warehouse to keep some meager money rolling in and keep things looking good in case their new plan went south. He wasn't planing on meeting any of the new recruits until later anyways when they all got together for supper. Thats what he forgot to get! Now he had to go back out for more alcohol for the bar [b]and[/b] some red wine for the spaghetti tonight. 

Mort considered a few more things while on that roof while he finished his bowl before taking a deep breath to blow out the contents with enough force to knock a bird out of the sky with the pitch ball. "Oops."