Dancing on the Edge

August 19, 2018:

At the newest club for the up and coming, Colin King and Lorna Dane run into each other. Both have different agendas.. and yet they seem to hit it off.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Club Blackout. It's the type of place that legends are made of. The kind of place that seems to pop up overnight and instantly, out of nowhere, draws in /just/ the right crowd. The debudantes and celbrities and celebudantes. It's the kind of place that people like Daft Punk or Steve Aoki just randomly show up and perform a show at, because they just happen to be there. Club Blackout, in particular, occupies a space in the lower east side of Manhattan, right on the shoreline in an old brick factory building that had been hollowed out and left empty for years and years before the new ownership turned it around. Another "victory" of urban reclamation and gentrification. This allows all the wealthy socialites that end up on its doorstep to feel edgey, like they're "slumming it" by coming to such a "seedy" establishment.

Of course, this is the kind of place that Colin King would find himself soon after touching down in the colonies. Its the kind of place that a man like him should be seen, after all. He's young, embarrassingly wealthy, single and a social butterfly, always there to help set new trends. On a more personal note, Colin does find comfort in spending "off time" in places like this. Places where the thump ofthe bass reverberates through your very bones like a rhythmic massage, and where the thrum of life is teeming to the point of bursting, leaving a palpable aura of excitement and hormonal arousal hanging in the air like static electricity. It is the kind of place one goes to turn their mind off and check out. The kind of place where a man like Colin might find a companion, young, beautiful… woman or man, it doesn't matter… who won't be interested in asking questions about his personal life, but just wanting to spend a night of fun and mutual comfort. It's a place where, even as he unwinds and checks out, he can still keep his thumb on things. It is no surprise that youthful tongues are so carelessly wagged when alcohol and high spirits are flowing freely.

And so, here Colin is. Let out of the back of an Uber Black Escalade by the tuxedo clad driver, the British born socialite is dressed to kill. His dark hair is slicked into a sharp side part with a perfect pompadour. Sunglasses obscure his eyes behind impassive glossy black lenses, even at night. His broad shoulders and narrow waist are draped perfectly with a tailored cashmere blazer of navy blue with a striped textured pattern in the weave, held clasped by a single button in the center. Under it, a ribbed white t-shirt clings to his athletic form like a second skin of all natural cotton. A thin silver chain sparkles in the light, a round pearlescent pendant of some Asian looking ornamentation dangling from it at the lower portion of his sternum. His trousers match the blazer, made of soft wool, and cling to his upper thighs snug, but looser below the knee, and each leg ends a perfect length to give just a hint of flesh at his ankles before a pair of mirror polished black leather shoes cover his feet, trimmed in silver capping at the point of the toe and the cup of the heel.

The one thing he might be thankful for? In the states, Colin King is a figure someone /might/ know, but he isn't a household name. His face isn't going to be recognized by someone everywhere he goes, and so as he strides up to the rather large blokes standing behind the roped off entryway, Colin doesn't have to contend with the constant flash of cameras clicking to capture a glimpse of him. That is a nice feeling. Less nice, though, is that the same lack of recognition does get him stopped at the door as he approaches.

"Come on, now, love," Colin says to the doorman blocking him, the words dripping from a silvered tongue like warm, molten honey. "Are you taking the piss right now? I'm bloody thirsty, mate, and I don't have time to be wasting out here with the swill. I assume that this will cover the price of admission?"

Colin retrieves a sizeable wad of cash and places it on the clipboard. It isn't clear how much it might be, but apparently the sum is enough that the doorman recoils for a moment, hikes his browsup and gives an approving nod, before unlatching the rope and waving Colin in. Colin doesn't need to be told twice. As he passes by, he gives the doorman an affectionate pat on the cheek, flashes a grin, and offers a: "Good man, chap. Cheers." before reaching out and taking both handles of the twin doors in hand and swinging them open, letting the auditory assault of the electronic music all but come rushing out onto the street like a flood. He steps inside, into the scene. Darkness sliced through with technicolor lights that dance around a floor packed with writhing bodies so tightly that it seems more like one undulating mass than a collection of people. Like the tendrilsof someunderwater urchin, waving to and fro, waiting for unwary prey to descend on them. Colin circumvents the dance floor, for now, making his way around the ledge, and up a set of steel stairs that indicate that they lead to the lounge, which is converted from the old factory office facilities that occupied the upper floor. At least in the lounge, the music is a dull thudding hum in the background, while the cacophony of conversational voices becomes a background buzzing. There, he slips off the shades, and lets his icy blue eyes cast a glance about, searching for the bar. This is more like it.


The last club Lorna had been to had been in a dream-world. A psychic attack that had destroyed her wedding on international television. But in that dream-world she'd owned her own nightclub, been one of the most important people on the planet and had grown into her wealth after wars and years of struggle. She sunk deep into that mind-set as she stepped out of the car she'd rented out for the night. A sleek, black thing that was some antique. Likely from the '50s at the very earliest, made of good steel and solidly built. It rumbled to a stop outside the old brick of the once decaying factory facade.

Be obvious. Draw attention. Draw the right kind of attention. It was all very murky, why, to her. Why bother with any of it.. but she had been told what to do. How to do and she planned to carry that out very carefully. The hired driver came around, opened the door for her and stepped back.

Out she stepped, black heels a mile high, and tied tightly around her ankles and upwards. She practically floated out, one could say, and to be fair, she cheated a little using her magnetism to not trip in the heels. A slinky off the shoulders dress in deep purple and a plunging neckline moved with a silken grace. Her long green hair was half braided back, the rest spilling into curls around her shoulders. Metallic jewelry sparkled at her neck and wrists, but all one could say for sure what it was, was silvery looking.

It took a moment, two, and then someone recognized her for who she was. Someone that paid attention to the international news outlets.

Magneto's daughter..

..a mutant..

..powerful… magnetism.. like her father..

Genoshan 'royalty'.. a snicker.

The whispers continued to follow her as she made her way to the front of the line as people got out of her way following the string of gossip and curious turns of heads. She wasn't the usual socialite to pass through. She was something new. Interesting. Vaguely dangerous. There weren't many that didn't know who Magneto was.

A camera flashed, but only one. As Lorna turned green eyes toward the interested and would be paparazzi. Their cameras no longer working after she offered so much as a glance. Electromagnetism twisted for her own gains. She smiled, and the bouncer let her in without much more than a 'enjoy'. Inside the noise was still beating away. Inside, no one knew who she was. Her green hair was vibrant but not particularly impressive against darkness and flashing lights of the dance floor. It was frustratingly difficult to move around, and Lorna found solace in the one some what quiet area she could. In the lounge. She nearly bumped into Colin as she staggered out of the chaos of the rest of the club. An apology on her lips as she caught herself and exhaled a rough breath. "Sorry."


Colin, being the highly trained super spy of the UK's top secret Ninja Programme, is a very alert individual, with senses that border on the level of superhuman. He is aware of the person coming in behind him. The sound of heels clacking on the concrete growing louder. The smell of her perfume, and the unique scent of the individual underneath. Something tingles his spine, sending a shiver down it and causing the fine hairs at the nape of his neck to stand on end, but it wasn't a murderous intent. So, when she nearly collides with him, Colin still his reflexes to parry and counter, and instead turns to avoid the collision, as well as reaching out to help her regain her footing.

"No worries," he says, taking on an affable air. Blue eyes flashing bright, and an award winning smile full of white teeth and dimpled cheeks. He brushes off her shoulders as if he were setting her aright, before adding, "There there, now. Everything's all hunky-dory."

He actually takes the time to look at her, then. She is certainly a looker, this one. Pretty girl. He finds himelf taking a step back as he looks her over, before finally fixing his gaze directly onto her own. In truth, he's scanning her. Contacts in his eyes are able to search for hidden weapons, while running facial pattern recognition against a variety of international databases in real time in order to pull up any information that might be easily attainable, such as name, licens—


"Oh bugger," he mutters. Known mutant Lorna Dane. Daughter of the infamous mutant Magneto. Files say she inherited his mastery of magnetism. He simple blink of his eyes disconnects his link, "powering down" the contacts. Instinctively, Colin tugs at the hem of his pristine jacket and takes on a wolfish grin, leaning his head to one side.

"Well, if you're going to try the old bump-into-the-guy-to-start-a-conversation chestnut, I suppose I'm in no position to resist, but you can at least by a bloke a drink over it, yeah?"


Awkwardness, thy name is Lorna Dane out of her element. She was a woman trained for fighting, with the ability to be diplomatic when passion struck and to be shrewd when dealing with her father. Not when trying to navigate the mass of humanity that was a nightclub in New York City. Sure she could throw a mountain at someone, but that didn't stop her from feeling that horrible creeping anxiety that told her; you do not belong.

Still, half of the battle was faking those feelings, and the rest could be dealt with later. She hoped. Her reasons were two fold there. Find out of any rich people in the docks district were still playing the mutant-buying-and-selling market. Remy had been kidnapped a few broken down factories over. Plus.. well her father's .. she didn't think of them as orders, but they might as well be..

Green eyes fell on the person or rather stool, that she'd nearly bumped into in her struggle to get free of the crowds. Since the man that had occupied it found himself upright and moving before she could collide with him. Delicate eyebrows lofted upwards as he helped her regain her footing, which was almost off the ground at that point. Her figure was lighter than it should be, mostly due to the magnetic fields she'd wrapped tightly around herself as she walked through the chaos of the dance floor plus heels.

While she certainly didn't know the man, she picked up on every bit of electronic tech on him. Every device that ran on electricity alive to her senses. Just as much as his ability to find that she had zero weapons on her at all.. and why would she? She was more or less, a living, breathing weapon.

That and his accent, English. Huh. He certainly wasn't bad looking—no, stop, stop that. She was married. A destroyed, rocky marriage. But she still loved him.. right? Still, he was talking. A mental shake and Lorna offered a hesitant smile and a half breath of a laugh.

"Is that what I was doing? I thought I was trying to escape the dancing mob back there." She cleared her throat, and swept a stray strand of green behind her ear. "But a drink? If you insist. I could use one too.. where's the bar…?"


"Were you now?" Colin asks, taking a moment to pry his eyes off of her and peer over her shoulder, back out into the crowd beyond the doors. "Darling, if your intention is to avoid dancing people, you have a strange way of making decisions regarding where to hang out."

When he turns those cerulean eyes back on hers, they glimmer with light hearted, but teasing mirth. The smile writ on his lips shifts into a lopsided grin. He hesitates for a moment, breaking eye contact to lower his eyes to the floor between them. His brow comes down, crinkling together just above his nose. The stumbled step, the clearing of the throat, and even the momentary flicker of something hidden behind her eyes tells Colin that she is, in truth, uncomfortable here. Curious, then, why she would get herself all dolled up and venture out here. Business? Not likely. Not dressed the way she is. That dress is meant to turn heads and drop jaws. It is meant to have the throngs of mere mortals kneeling in supplication at the feet of Aphrodite. It's not, however, meant to impress a statement of power, or convey a sense of professionalism. So then this is a social excursion, but who takes those in a setting they're not comfortable being in?

Curiosity killed the cat, Colin.

But satisfaction brought him back.

Colin cocks his head to the side, indicating towards the bar. He turns on his heels, presenting his side to her, and offering her his arm by way of jutting out his elbow ever so slightly. Should she accept the gesture, Colin simply leads them to the bar in a courteous and proper manner. Once there, he even helps her to a stool before claiming his own, because it becomes a gentleman to have manners, even in the midst of an EDM show.

Once settled in, the dark haired socialite leans forward, elbows resting on the bar as he adopts a casual slouch. This far from the doors, thankfully, it is much more quiet,with only the thumping of bass penetrating the soft sound of conversation that surrounds them from other occupants. It is like a heart beat keeping the tempo going for the room. Colin keeps his attention focused on Lorna, stating, "I'm Colin, by the way. Colin King. And I'm drinking bourbon. So what brings a posh girl like you out to a club like this, tonight?"


To say that she was new to the whole schmoozing and being seen was an understatement. She was uncomfortable by leaps and bounds, bars? She liked bars. She was comfortable on dirty city streets of Mutant Town. In the halls of power of Genosha.. but here? Here was sound and noise, and rich people being people. There were at least five kinds of trust funds and celebrities there, and it was more or less her first 'public' appearance since the mess that was her wedding.

The outfit and reputation had gotten her through the doors, but beyond that she was on her own. She was being ridiculous, of course people came to clubs to dance and have fun. And here she was, being nervous over what? Talking to a bunch of self-important humans?

Another mental sigh, and shake of her head as she flashed the young man a grin, "I'll admit it, I came for the drinks and a chance to get out. Never really had an eye for the dancing part." She drawled, even as he indicated the bar and offered her his arm. She took it, manicured hands tipped in green to match her vibrant hair.

Even as he helped her settle in, and gain the bartender's attention she arched a brow, studying him for a long moment, before she ordered her own drink. A simple whiskey sour, after a quick look over the bar's menu, and asked the bartender to put his order on her tab. She shifted, leaning an elbow against the bar-top to fully look him over. "Lorna Dane. Nice to meet you, Colin." A sigh, "I was told I needed to get out of the house and try something new. This is something new. A friend recommended the area and well.. here I am." She tilted her head slightly as she considered him.

"And you?"


Colin, for what it is worth, seems as calm as a Hindu cow. He's in his element. Where self-important people thrive, he finds a sort of succor. He is apart from them, and yet a part of them. His body language reflects that. He slightly turns in his seat, to better face her, seemingly open and inviting to any questions she might put towards him. His shoulders are lax, and loose, and he radiates confidence and warmth in equal measure. Like some sort of Prince Charming.

Of course, it's a mask. A nearly impenetrable one. This is, after all, Colin's stock in trade.


Colin, for what it is worth, seems as calm as a Hindu cow. He's in his element. Where self-important people thrive, he finds a sort of succor. He is apart from them, and yet a part of them. His body language reflects that. He slightly turns in his seat, to better face her, seemingly open and inviting to any questions she might put towards him. His shoulders are lax, and loose, and he radiates confidence and warmth in equal measure. Like some sort of Prince Charming.

Of course, it's a mask. A nearly impenetrable one. This is, after all, Colin's stock in trade. Wear the mask, be personable, be inviting and most importantly, be disarming and trustworthy. This gets people to open up and relax. It will get an agent like him further to completing a mission than any weapon ever could.

But this is no mission. This is just about curiosity, truly. It's just hard for Colin to not "work" even when he's not working. It's become ingrained into his very nature to try to penetrate into people's secrets and find out what exactly makes them tick, or what they're doing when they are clearly out of their element, like Lorna is now.

"Oh, much the same, really," He says in that posh, almost lyrical British accent. "Business trip. I'm looking into financing a small start up here in the city. But, I like to cut loose as much as the next bloke, so I asked around and was told this is the new hot spot. At least for this week. Places like this, in my experience, tend to close down after roughly three weeks."

A shrug of his shoulders, and Colin breaks his attention from her just long enough to acknowledge the server as their drinks are delivered to them. Taking up his bourbon, he takes a small sip, before setting the tumbler back on the bar, idly twirling it with his fingertips on the lip. "I was told that if I wanted to meet someone interesting while I'm in town, this would be the best place to look right now. So I said to myself, Colin, mate… You're single and coming up on thirty. You're practically a confirmed bachelor at this point. And have you seen that Meghan Markle? She's a proper looker, that one, and if an American girl is good enough for a Prince, then why not good enough for a King?"

The smile he flashes is purely tongue in cheek, however, before he shrugs one shoulder and looks down into his drink. "And now, here I am, hobnobbing with no less than mutant royalty. So, at least it should prove to be an interesting night."


Lorna seemed to relax, at least a little bit as the conversation wandered on and their drinks arrived. The tension in her shoulders eased somewhat, and now that she was sitting, she stretched her senses out wide and far around her. But came back with little of worth. There was no secret basement below them. No secret pathways or anything that didn't belong with an upscale nightclub for the rich and famous.

A flicker of her attention returned to Colin, and she smiled faintly over the rim of her drink, swirling the contents around with the stirrer left behind. She bit into a raspberry that had topped it, and glanced once around the bar and back. Her smile broke out into a grin, and a laugh at his pun with his last name, and she slowly shook her head.

"That's terrible.." She drawled, humor lacing her voice. It dropped faintly as he continued, pointing out that he knew just exactly who she was with that one lone statement. Green eyes narrowed faintly, though the smile remained, and widened if at all possible. Her gaze lingered on him, finding nothing there to give anything further.

She sipped at her drink, rolling her shoulders back. "And here you are.. not running screaming yet. Bravo. The royalty thing is a bit of a joke.. honestly. Genosha is having a democratic election." She corrected, though not even she completely bought into it. Magneto wasn't known for being a diplomatic man. Dictator and president for life was more than likely. People on Genosha certainly had taken to calling her 'Princess', particularly after the Acolytes had taken up the term.

"Of course, I could be asking exactly what a man in a place like this needs contacts that emit electro-magnetic pulses.. but.." She arched a brow, and raised her glass his way. "That wouldn't be any of my business."


"What is there to run from? I like to fancy myself an intelligent lad, meaning that I'm not scared of mutant boogeymen or think that every one of them is going to blo—" He rethinks the blowing up comment. With the recent explosion leaving thousands dead, it might be a bit too early and sensitive for such comments. Instead, he says, "I don't hold people to any preconceived judgments. Each person is a unique individual with their own thoughts, hopes, dreams and viewpoints. I guess you can say I try to live by doggo rules. I just met you, mate, and I love you. At least until you give me reason not to."

A pause, and he adds, "You as in general you. As in people. Don't take that as a confession, I haven't had nearly enough booze in me for those kinds of shenanigans, as of yet."

The deflection of the "royalty" moniker prompts Colin to offer up another grin. Now he swivels in his seat to face her directly, leaning his side against the bar. His head leans to the side, and his eyes narrow as he studies her intently for just a moment. The smile never wavers. "I wasn't making a comment on your actual political standing, Lorna. It's more a matter of prestige. Much like how you lot here in the colonies take to calling the Kennedy family royalty. I'm certain that Genosha's elections will be fair and transparent. But we both know what the likely outcome will be, don't we?"

Mention of his contacts elicits a raise of his thin dark brows, and he leans back ever so slightly, reaching down with one hand to unfasten the single button that holds his jacket closed over his midsection. Is it getting hot in here? "The contacts? Oh, they're just a prototype that I'm testing out for another company I invested in. Nothing more, really, than smartglasses in contact form, fed streaming data from a host device. Namely, my phone. I can check stocks and check my email whenever, with no one being the wiser."


A raised brow remained, though her smile dwindled to something of a look with dry humor at his attempt to smooth over a near blunder in regards to blowing things up. She sipped at her drink, letting him continue as he would. The posh sounding accent helped. Not that she'd tell him that. She was used to rather pointedly straight forward and to the point people. Besides her father that is.

"It's okay if you're a little worried about that. I mean.. my family," A faint exhale of amusement, dry and only partly smothered behind her glass. "Well, they do blow up stuff. And people. I think the bouncer was scared of saying no to me on that point." Her siblings had refuted any dealings with the Hell's Kitchen bombings, though they had blown up plenty of other things in the past year or so. That was splashed all over the newspapers and television and was well known information. The green haired woman tucked her legs more firmly under her stool, watching Colin for a long moment as he continued in regards to her standing, something about 'the colonies'—A blink at that usage. He was so very English, wasn't he? Though his guess on the outcome was the same as everyone else's. Magneto would win and be 'President Magneto' shortly. The UN had put him into power, and as a result would have to recognize it one way or another. Her smile returned as she watched him shift his jacket about though, watched the raised eyebrows and listened to his explanation of it.

"As I said, not my business, Colin." Her voice teasing almost in tone. She downed the rest of her drink. "I've seen some of the work Tony Stark has done for robotics, it's fascinating to see on various levels.." She paused, considering him. "What brings you to America?" She ventured instead.


"I'm not," Colin assures her, with utter confidence. "Worried about your family. Things have a tendency to work themselves out. Every period of oppression in history has come to an end, and we as human beings, come further towards balance and equilibrium in regards to that. I feel like mutants and all the ugliness surrounding them… that's all on the way out the door. I mean, really, what's the point of being afraid of mutants? We have thunder gods and big blue aliens who can crack worlds with their fists. My guess? With everything else out there, and everything else that would prey on this world, maybe mutants were just our natural way of adapting to defend ourselves."

Colin shrugs his shoulders, and then gives a nervous chuckle, before taking another drink of his bourbon. Deeper this time. "But what do I know? I'm just a proper wanker with money handed to me. I'm no politician, or biologist or specialist in racial studies or anything like that."

Settling his drink back down, Colin gives a nodofhis head. "Stark's technology is amazing. This is nothing on that level. I'm not entirely certain how it works. Again, I'm just the bloke who gives out the quid. I've no bloody idea how most of the stuff I pay for actually works."

He gives a nod of acknowledgement to the last question. The one ofwhat brings him to America. In truth? Chasing ghosts of the past, under the guise of dealing with threats to the present. Alcott over at MI-13 had gathered intel that some ancient evil might be awakening in this neck of the woods, and even if the yanks have their own operatives, it is the duty of Her Majesty's Secret Service to ensure that the world doesn't go to hell in a handbasket, either. And, as Neville ALSO pointed out, he is freelance, an arrangement he made when he took the designation of Ninja-K. This means he is free to work for SHIELD or even the American CIA, if he so wishes. But Colin isn't going to talk about this kind of thing.

"Well, like I said, I'm the bloke who hands out the quid. I've a project here in a little tech start up. Flew in to close out the deal, but I think I'm going to take holiday here for a minute. Maybe rent out a flat somewhere by the park."


Lorna watched him closely as he spoke about a lack of worry for her family. Or her for that matter. The fact that she was a mutant didn't seem to truly phase him. And well.. he had a good point. She'd met Thor, and other Asgardians. Hell space sharks had destroyed the pool outside the mansion. He was right in that humanity certainly had other problems to face besides mutants. Not that she typically heard that anymore from people around her or in the news.

Her smile warmed, and she flagged down the bar tender for another drink. "That is the going theory.. That mutants are just the natural evolution of humans. Considering everything out there, it makes sense. People are squishy on their own, and while you have tech like Stark's and others.. well, not everyone has access to that." She shrugged lightly, leaning against the bar, her chin propped up by her hand. She considered him as he repeated himself about just being the guy with the 'quid'.

She had little reason to mistrust the man, nor little reason to trust him. Besides the fact that he was the only guy who'd approached her in the otherwise crowded club. Perhaps it was just her father's words getting to her, to mistrust and think the worst of humans. It was harder to think in positives regarding humanity as a whole these days. "Well, if you hang around the area for a while, then we'll likely run into each other again."


The best lies are intermingled with truths, and in this, Colin is an expert. Colin has a number of "friends" in the circles he runs that are not ordinary human beings. Some have magical powers. Some have psionic powers. Others have more obscure or even abstract abilities that stem from any number of things, including alien super armors. In the end, Colin realizes that people are people. They're all flawed, ugly, miserable, beautiful, nuanced and wonderful monsters. So while he might be selling Lorna a line, that line is only about what his true nature and business here is. Not about his view on mutants or herself.

"The problem with thinking of mutation as the natural evolution of humanity is that it leads to a sense of entitlement. It gives the impression that mutants are meant to inherit the earth from their mundane counterparts. I'm certain you can see where that line of thinking would likely lead to some skewed perceptions towards supremacy. I hazard to think of mutants more like an antibody. Humanity's immune system response to things like gods and demons and loa, and aliens. Not necessarily a destination or ultimate fate of humanity, but rather a part of a greater whole."

The talk of running into one another again has him smiling, and he allows himself the luxury of giving her an obviously admiring once over, before he takes up his tumbler and finishes its golden contents in one large gulp. "So far, Lorna, you've been the most engaging person I've met since stepping foot off the jet. You're charming, you're right tidy, and you aren't afraid to buy a man a drink. I can tell you now, Lorna, I'd be proper chuffed to see as much of you as I can. We should trade numbers, yeah?"


Perhaps Lorna was a bad judge of character, perhaps she wasn't, after all, she found something redeemable in her father. Something there to put her trust in. It wasn't much, but it was there. Regardless of trust, she found herself enjoying the time she'd spent chatting with one Colin King. She hadn't really had much in terms of expectations in coming to this club, but this so far, was much better than she'd thought it would go.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not a mutant supremacist like my father. But when you look at the amount of mutant births, the rate is increasing. Now, I could talk your ears off about the science behind it—I've had to listen to those lectures for some time. But that is the current trend. Of course, that doesn't mean much today.. but.." She shrugged. Her father had told her the projections for how long off the natural birth rates would take before, as he projected, humanity would cease to be the standard. Barring the outside threats that mutants faced, most futures never gave mutants that kind of a chance. Not from what she'd seen or heard.

Still, as he downed the rest of his drink and she continued to sip her second, she flashed him a grin. "Well how many people have you had a chance to talk with since you got off that jet?" She drawled, teasingly, even so she seemed amused by his compliments. Even if she didn't entirely follow the English slang. She got the main idea. "But sure.." She reached for a clutch that hung from her shoulder, pulling out her phone and opening up a tab to pass off to him to type it in.


Colin doesn't seem to blanch when she starts talking about the birth rates of mutants increasing. Judging by the way he maintains eye contact, smiles and nods, it seems like the idea that she might be a mutant supremacist never actually even crossed his mind. In truth, it had. But it was quickly discarded, as she seemed keen enough to keep and maintain conversation with him even after the conversation made it obvious that he was not a mutant himself. Invariably, the conversation would have stopped immediately, or turned into a debate of why mutants are superior to humans, or the lack of interest would have amounted to a succinct but awkward end to things. No. Lorna Dane might be Magneto's daughter, but she's not drunk the mutant supremacy kool-aid. Not yet, at least.

He chuckles when she calls into question the number of people he's spoken to. His eyes roll upwards, and he counts off silently on his fingers. "Well, a crew of seven people that form the company that I am backing. Their team of three lawyers. My army of lawyers, and a council of the board of commerce. So, a lot, and not a single human interaction among them. It's really been rather dreadful, so far, I assure you. You should absolutely pity me. I have known nothing but misery since my arrival."

He's grinning from ear to ear as he takes her phone, taptaptapping in his number and then sending out a brief message from her phone to his. As he does so, he speaks to her, so as not to have an awkward break in conversation. Managing the flow of conversation is a key ingredient to establishing new connections and goes a surprisingly long way towards gaining and keeping trust. The more you can keep the conversation going, the more natural it might seem, and that serves to make you more trustworthy to the mark. But is Lorna really a mark? "So tell me a bit about you, anyway. I know it is hard coming from a family that…has a history and comes with preconceptions and expectations placed upon us. The Kings are an old family in Britain, so I deal with that shadow a lot. So who are you, outside of the shadow of your family? What are you passionate about? What do you do for fun, when not chatting up guys in the club?"

Lorna isn't a mark. He doesn't have a mission where her circle, as far as he knows, would even touch upon his. But having a connection with ties to Magneto and Genosha? That's too good topass up even if he weren't legitimately attracted to her. This could be one of those very, very rare situations where personal interest and professional assets might intersect with one another.


Lorna wasn't entirely sure the ways in which Colin was assessing her, though to be fair, she was struggling to do much the same. Other than rich white guy from England, with connections to the tech industry.. and hey, the guy didn't hate mutants. She didn't have all that much to go on. Of course, being seen and just being out was part and parcel for her intent to being out in the first place. Still, it was easy to smile and laugh now that she'd relaxed and had seemingly found someone that wasn't freaked out about who and what she was.

She continued to sip at her drink as he went over the people he'd spent time talking to since he'd arrived. A smile flickering over the edge of her glass as ice tinkled against the edge. Green eyes danced with amusement, as he continued onward, asking her about her interest and passions as he typed in his number into her phone. It was new. Not of any kind of name brand that anyone would've heard of.. considering it had been made in Genosha with her powers in mind.

"Well, I'm working on my Masters degree in physics. I hope to eventually get my doctorate.. but.. eh.." She shrugged, "I've been rather busy with trying to help out where I can in Mutant Town. I don't.. well, I don't typically have time for 'fun' such as it is.. There's always someone doing something that needs my attention." She exhaled a breath, pushing her hair back behind an ear as it slipped down in front of her face.

"That sounds rather trite when I say it out loud. But that's basically it." She laughed, looking somewhat sheepish. "There's a reason I was told to go out and do something new."


Colin had pulled out his phone, preparing to respond to the text message he had sent himself, just to make sure to establish that initial connection, but when she starts to speak, he's left forgetting to do so,instead paying attention to her as she lays out her… self. In what capacity she was doing so. He does flag down the tender for a refill on his glass, which comes promptly, but otherwise he seems to be actually rather engrossed in what she has to say.

"Bollocks. Working towards a doctorate in physics? So you're engaging and fun to talk with, a right and proper fitbird, and you have a real, certifiable brain to go with it? I guess there must be something to that mutant royalty thing. Seems like you've won yourself a bit of a genetic lottery. Do you have any flaws at all, Lorna? We mere mortals cannot keep up!"

He's grinning from ear to ear, clearly teasing her, his demeanor openly and shamelessly flirtacious. However, those gleaming azure eyes soften when she starts talking about helping out around Mutant Town and essentially always having what sounds like work to do. Her seeming self-consiousness is noted, and he responds by reaching out, placing his hand lightly over her wrist and giving a faint squeeze.

"So there it is, then. The flaw of the super woman. You let yourself get too caught up in the causes you live for that you forget that you need to live in order to live for something. All work and no play, as they say. Lorna, you have to keep everything in moderation. If you focus too much on the work to be done, the battles to be fought, and the messes to be cleaned, you never get a chance to see why all of those things need done to begin with. If you don't take the time to enjoy life, or to allow yourself the pleasure of the things that truly make you happy and content, then you've already lost the plot."

He offers another grin, this one warmer and softer than before, as he retreats from touching her wrist, and takes up his drink once more. "In short, don't cock up your life by not taking the time for yourself to just breathe once in awhile. Whoever told you to go out and do something new was right!"

He ticks his gaze towards the doors leading out to the club floor, where the music still plays, merely a throbbing beat in here, but out there an auditory inferno. "Since you're out and having at it, might as well go full monty with it. Let's go join the knees-up out there and live a little. Are you with me?"


A huff of a breath, half laugh and half sigh escaped her, and she slowly shook her head as she fought the grin that reflexively tugged at the corners of her lips. She set her glass down, only half finished as she paused to listen to him. His teasing compliment brought a fluttering of her eyelashes and a small flummoxed look to her features. Her green eyebrows lurching upwards. Even as he leaned over, touching her wrist and giving what was sure to be a comforting squeeze.

"I don't forget. It's just.. the work I do matters. It's what I'm passionate about.. it.. well it is exhausting. There's always some kind of a disaster. But if I don't step up to help, well.." She let it hang, with a shrug and looking away back to her drink as he let go and she picked up the glass she'd just set down once more. She downed the rest, coughing once as she glanced back to him.

A faint trace of a smile returned, more strained than it had been before. Even as his warmed and gentled. Of course then his gaze was leading back out to the club floor, where bodies intertwined and writhed to the beat of the music and the bass. She exhaled a breath, looking back to Colin as he, she thought, asked her to dance.

Lorna set the glass back down, empty as she glanced back to the bartender and dumped a handful of cash down. Green eyes returned back to the man sitting there, who had taken time out to talk to her. Someone that she thought, was just a rather nice rich guy. A handsome rich guy with a rather posh accent. She quirked a smile again, "Yeah, sure. Lets."

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