[h1][b][i][color=MediumSpringGreen][center]James Kingston[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
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[center][color=MediumSpringGreen][b]Location[/b][/color]: The Mutant Underground 
[color=MediumSpringGreen][b]Skills[/b][/color]: N/A[/center]
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James nearly considered not getting up when he felt himself stir that morning. Yesterday had been… an experience. Attacks from every side, a failed mission, and the amount of injuries all around had James seriously wondering how anyone was still fucking breathing in this place. In less than a week, he’d disappeared from his old life, made friends with a guy who pulled off magic tricks, helped someone out of a burning building because of said magic trick guy,  got a date, had to piece said date and said date’s brother back together, and had to get a bunch of [i]fucking children[/i] back on their feet because some shit heads decided to have a grand time blowing up buildings. And that wasn’t even everything. Erg’s dead, Max is a murderer and single handedly responsible for turning every mutant into public enemy number 1, and he had a massive caffeine headache on top of everything else. At least one of those things could be handled. The rest of it? 

Who the fuck knew.

So James forced himself up and through his stretching routine that morning despite wanting to do anything but that. He definitely felt better but he could tell his smile was a little stiffer than normal but hey, a smile’s a smile. Fake it ‘til you make it and all that jazz. His first stop was coffee which he got set up while Veil spoke. He didn’t have any reason to leave or stay. He was kinda just in the wind but this whole Hounds thing sounded horrible and if he could help somehow, he kinda felt obligated to do so. He almost spoke up but Casper and Jack caught his eye. Casper seemed a little frazzled and Jack concerned. He didn’t know if it had anything to do with how he found the pair last night but he thought it couldn’t hurt to at least check in and if it was something else that he had no part in, he’d slip right out. Or awkwardly stumble his way out. Whatever worked. 

So he prepared two more cups of watered down coffee―at least something was good around here at this point―and brought three cups over to the pair. [color=mediumspringgreen]“Hey, just wanted to check in on you guys after last night. You all still feeling alright?”[/color] James asked softly, not wanting to interrupt the other conversations going on. [color=mediumspringgreen]“I know I promised a little alcohol involved the first time but this was the best I could whip up on short notice.”[/color] James joked lightly, very much prepared to bolt if it landed poorly.

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[center][h1][b][i][color=F2C31A]Requiem[/color][/i][/b][/h1][/center]
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[center][color=F2C31A][b]Location[/b][/color]: The Hellfire Club
[color=F2C31A][b]Skills[/b][/color]: N/A[/center]
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Requiem retired to his apartment last night after the fiasco, incredibly irritated with the entire situation. His hands still stung, his leg was acting up, and he spent a few hours listening to records and reminiscing trying to get himself back in a better frame of mind. This was no time to be distracted with petty concerns, much less frustrations over the constant changing of responsibilities. A missing sentinel, an unexpected raid, a missing computer, and now an entire change of direction. It had taken him the entire time to get himself calm and refocused. It was times like these that the ache of loss hurts most sharply. Before he’d have someone to lean on, two people ready to listen and work with him when he needed these mental adjustments. 

It had been difficult the first few months. He’d still spoke to them like he did before the assignment: asking Devon to pause his studies to set the table while he was cooking or yelling at Natasha when the laundry machine banged when it was unbalanced. But of course, no one answered and he contemplated more than once following them into the next life. He couldn’t afford a therapist. Financially yes but the risk involved was far too great so instead he did what he did best. He made a plan and resolved to do something about the situation. 

Requiem made his way to their morning meeting in considerably better spirits than when he left the night before. He paused for a moment when he entered, both so that he could analyze the company and so he wouldn’t have to speak over the tapping of his cane. [color=F2C31A] “Good morning everyone. From present company, it seems we’ll have our work cut out for us today.”[/color]