Aug. 6th, 2008

[identity profile]
Arriving by courier, a carefully-wrapped package about the size of a ski case, containing Nathan's psimitar and a brief note:

It wasn't his to take.

[identity profile]
Taped to the door of Terry and Adrienne's suite is a note on the back of a 64Square Boutique flyer that says:

Happy Birthday.
I hope you enjoy your present. I've fed him but you're completely responsible for his exercise.
I'll be staying at Morgan and Laurie's tonight.
[identity profile]
To: Xavier, Charles; Summers, Scott; Munroe, Ororo; Espinosa, Angelo;
Subject: Cocksucking motherfucking shitbag arsehole cunt!

I am on my way to the Institute right fucking now to talk to Dom, but thanks to the magic of these PDA things, I thought I'd let you all know in advance: Dom asked me to do some digging so that all those people Nate rescued from Mistra wouldn't go off and starting breaking bits of the world in response to his being put in a coma, so I did and it turns out Lense is working in the private sector these days. Specifically, he's working for Sebastian fucking Shaw.

No-one breathe a word of this to Dom until I get there. She is likely to take this news even worse than me, and you cannot imagine how badly I've taken it. I want to be damn sure she isn't going to go and do anything criminal on US soil without proper backup.



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