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The mansion door was large, imposing, and -- if he wasn’t mistaken -- solid mahogany. Andrew Schroeder ran a hand over his hair, straightened his tie, and settled his pile of clipboards more firmly in the crook of his elbow before knocking.
The door was thrown open by a vibrant young woman dressed head-to-toe in an eye-searingly shade of yellow.
“Er, hello, I’m...”
His words trailed off as the woman turned around, presenting him with her equally yellow back.
“THAT GUY IS HERE!” she screamed in the direction of the foyer.
Mr. Schroeder jumped, clapping his hands to his ears instinctively, as all the clipboards slithered and clattered to the ground.
He gathered them all up and straightened, to find the young woman looking him over unapologetically. “This way,” she said with a snap of her gum, and took off up the grand staircase.
“Um. Okay.” He struggled to catch up with her. “Miss...Miss, I’m Andrew Schroeder. I am an authorized representative of the United States Citizen and Immigration Service, and I am here...”
“We know why you’re here.” She shot him a scathing glance. “You’re here because Commander Dickhead has a bug up his ass about...”
“Jubilee!” The soft, Southern drawl interrupted the spitfire’s rant. A young woman came forward, and Mr. Schroeder swallowed awkwardly. She was beautiful -- slight and graceful, with long auburn hair falling almost to her waist, two distinctive white streaks tucked behind her ears. He recognized her from the case folder.
“Ms. D’Ancanto?” He held out his hand. She hesitated only for a moment before shaking it. “I am Andrew Schroeder, and I am an authorized representative of the United States Citizen and Immigration Service.”
“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Schroeder,” she said, shooting a sharp look at the yellow spitfire. “Yes, I’m Anna Marie D’Ancanto, although everyone calls me Rogue around here. This here is Jubilation Lee.” She gestured at the yellow-clad woman, who popped her gum as if to signal how unimpressed she was with the introduction.
“Oh! Jubilation Lee. You’re on my list of interviewees. Along with...um, Scott Summers. And of course your new husband, Ms....um, Ms. Rogue. And, did you get the most recent notification? We were provided with a list of non-student residents from whom to select an interviewee at random, and Dr. Hank McCoy was chosen.”
“Yes. They’re all waiting. Um...Mr. Summers in in a separate room, because, um...well, you know. Because of havin’ made the complaint, Logan’s not too happy with him right now. I do appreciate you comin’ out here, instead of makin’ us all come down to the office.”
“Yes. Well.” Mr. Schroeder followed her toward a closed door, straightening his tie importantly as she started to open it. “I understand that there are unique circumstances, and I have taken several mutant sensitivity training seminars over the...OH MY GOD!”
He leaped backwards, clipboards flying out of his arms again with an almighty clatter. The two other people in the room stayed seated, looking at him impassively. Including the big...the big blue...the big blue FURRY one.
“Oh. Um. I apologize.” He reached down to gather the clipboards, and then popped up again like a Jack-in-the-box as the big blue one started toward him.
“Do not worry at all. My appearance can be quite startling for the unprepared. Absolutely understandable,” the cultured voice said, as the...man?...peered at him over the top of a dainty set of rimless eyeglasses. Mr. Schroeder watched, somewhat dazed, as all of the clipboards were gathered up in one massive paw. “Allow me,” the...man?...said, handing them back. He bared a ferocious set of canines in what was likely meant to be a placating smile. “Dr. Henry McCoy.”
This is what I trained for, Mr. Schroeder thought, steeling himself. He tentatively reached out, placing his own hand in the massive paw. The beast...er, Dr. McCoy, rather...gently shook his hand and released it. Ah. That wasn’t so bad.
Mr. Schroeder smiled brightly at the rest of the room, flush with his triumph. “Well, then. Let’s get started. Ms...Ms. Rogue, I’ll begin by speaking with you and your new husband together, and then I will interview each of you separately. And then there will be a tour of your living quarters, which I understand are in this building?”
Ms. Rogue nodded. My, she was lovely. Just looking at her made Mr. Schroeder’s face heat a little...
“Grrrrrrrrrr....”
Mr. Schroeder jumped at the strange sound. Almost like someone had started up a coffee grinder, but...
“Logan,” Ms. Rogue rebuked. She shot a quelling glance at the remaining man in the room.
He was burly and rough-looking, with an outlandishly pointy shock of dark hair. This...this...was Logan Smith? Mr. Schroeder should have recognized the hair from the paperwork, but a photograph simply did not convey the...brutality of the man. He was all bulging muscles and stubble, dressed in a skin-tight t-shirt and equally tight blue jeans with a massive belt buckle in the middle.
Mr. Schroeder narrowed his eyes. Perhaps Mr. Summers was right. Surely this lovely young thing must have been coerced into marrying a man like that...
“Let’s begin,” he said.
“So,” he began, when the others had been temporarily dismissed. “Am I to understand that you have no real documentation of your union, aside from the marriage documents? No lease or mortgage on a joint residence? Bank and credit card statements? A utility bill? Insurance information?”
The man, Mr. Smith, started to growl again, and Mr. Schroeder subtly pushed his chair back just a bit. “Ms. Rogue, you have to admit it’s a little...unusual.”
“Just Rogue, please. And Logan.” She smiled warmly at him. There was a dull thud from under the table, as if she had kicked the table leg, but the man beside her suddenly bared his teeth in what was likely meant to be a smile as well.
“I do understand,” she continued in that soft, sweet drawl. “But, as you mentioned, there are special circumstances. Logan and I have lived here at the mansion for the last eight years. All our room and board is covered in exchange for our...teachin’ duties, an’ Professor Xavier is very generous with use of his credit card for personal expenses. I know he funds bank accounts for both of us with our extra income, but to be honest, we’ve never much bothered with those. Didn’t seem worth it to go through the hassle of combinin’, you know?”
Oh. Well. That was certainly an unusual situation. No lease or mortgage, no personal credit cards, no utility bills. Mr. Schroeder consulted his list. “But surely...some insurance information? Should one of you become disabled or even killed...”
Mr. Schroeder looked up sharply as Logan began to snicker. There was another dull thud from under the table and the snickering stopped.
“Well, you see...” She seemed at a loss, and threw a pleading glance at the surly man beside her.
“Just show ‘em,” he grunted. “S’easier.”
“Oh! Yeah.” The woman casually pulled something from her pocket. She whipped her hand a certain way and...oh my god, it was a knife! Not just a little letter-opening knife, but a wicked-looking, serrated-edged hunting knife.
The woman’s beautiful hazel-green eyes were bright with amusement. “Oh, no, honey,” she said soothingly, as Mr. Schroeder eased his chair carefully back from the table even more. “Don’t worry. I’m just gonna show you...” With a swift stab, she drove the tip of the knife into the palm of her hand.
Mr. Schroeder...well, he wouldn’t say to himself that he shrieked, exactly, but there was definitely a high, shrill sound. Call it ‘a sudden outcry of surprise,’ for dignity’s sake.
Rogue held her hand out. Her small palm was smooth and pale, completely uninjured.
“Y’see?” she asked brightly, stabbing herself a few more times, Mr. Schroeder flinching every time. “Impenetrable skin. Virtually impossible for me to get injured or killed. And then...show ‘em, sugar.”
Mr. Schroeder shifted his eyes to the surly man. And this time...well, yes, this time he did shriek, absolutely and unequivocally. But, honestly, who wouldn’t shriek when three giant metal knives unexpectedly shot out of somebody’s hand to rest casually on the conference table? No one, that’s who.
Remember your training, Mr. Schroeder repeated to himself. All mutants have different abilities. It is important to be sensitive to their special skills, and not to draw undue attention to any physical, cognitive, or behavioral differences.
With another snicker Logan twitched and the knives retracted back...into his body somewhere.
“See?” Rogue said again, her sounding proud now.
I saw GIANT METAL KNIVES, Mr. Schroeder thought, but he took a deep breath and said, “I’m not sure...”
Logan pulled up the hem of his t-shirt, carelessly swabbing the blood off his knuckles.
Oh. That was actually kind of...cool. Mr. Schroeder couldn’t help scooting his chair forward a bit, watching while the cuts closed up.
“I heal,” the surly man grunted. “Probably live forever, goddammit.”
“An’ I got some of his healin’ too,” Rogue said. “So...y’know. Not really too worried about the whole insurance thing.”
Mr. Schroeder felt a little light-headed. This definitely wasn’t the way he had planned on the day going. He floundered briefly, before finally taking comfort in routine. He’d just...you know, circle back to this part. “Let’s start the individual interviews,” he said a little weakly.
“So. You’re Mr. Summers.”
The man was ridiculously handsome. His startlingly white teeth flashed as he smiled genially, extending his hand, but his eyes were disconcertingly hidden behind opaque red glasses. Was that some kind of high fashion, or a disability?
Mr. Schroeder made a mental note to look it up later. If this was the next big fashion trend, maybe Jeannie from Accounting might be impressed if he showed up at work casually sporting a pair.
“I’m so glad that you were able to investigate, Mr. Schroeder,” Mr. Summers said seriously. “I’m sure you can understand my concern. Rogue is such a vulnerable young woman, and...”
Mr. Schroeder admittedly lost the thread for the rest of what the man was saying. A vulnerable young woman? That woman, who had been cheerily stabbing herself with a knife not five minutes ago? Hmmm.
“...so if there’s anything else I can do to help, by all means let me know.” The man finished speaking.
“Oh. Er, certainly. Let’s just begin with the questions.”
QUESTIONS FOR ALL WITNESSES:
Question Number One: How they met.
Scott Summers:
“How did Rogue and Wolverine -- oh, that’s his other name, Wolverine -- meet? Well, you see, that’s exactly part of the problem. There she was, barely sixteen years old, vulnerable and alone -- hitchhiking, even, which everyone knows is just a recipe for disaster -- and she climbs into his truck. That guy. Into his truck, in the middle of nowhere. That’s...that’s a judgment issue, isn’t it? And for him...to take advantage like that? I mean, it’s not like she had any other choices. A child, all alone, on the verge of freezing to death? Starting from that kind of inequality...how can that relationship not be coercive?”
Jubilation Lee:
“Dude! I was hoping you’d ask! I love...and I mean I absolutely puffy sparkly pink heart luuuuuurve this story. See, there was Roguey, out on her own, boppin’ around the frozen North. And then, she walks into this bar -- don’t give me that look, she was just drinking water -- and there, fighting in a cage, was Wolverine. Huh? Oh, you know, a cage. Not like, a strip club cage. Like, a fight club cage. Anyway, just take it as given, there’s a cage. So, Roguey just sees this gorgeous hunk of manliness, stripped down to the waist in just those super-tight jeans, back and shoulders all bulging, sweat trickling down his spine, and...wait, what was the question again?”
Dr. Henry McCoy:
“I believe they were both traveling. Seeing the sights of the magnificent Prairie Provinces. They felt a kinship, and decided to become traveling companions. As the wise St. Augustine said, ‘The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.’”
Rogue:
“It was really sweet. I was kind of in a tough spot. Y’know, my parents kicked me out, and I was hitchin’. So, I was out in the middle of nowhere, on this frozen road, and Logan picked me up. Got me in his warm truck, and fed me beef jerky, and was real nice to me. And didn’t even...you know, some guys would have somethin’ they wanted in return, but he was jus’ doin’ it to be nice, y’know?”
Logan:
“On the road.”
Question Number Two: Commonalities
Scott Summers:
“What do they have in common? Absolutely nothing. Rogue is a delightful, intelligent, sensitive young woman with a bright future ahead of her. And Logan is a rough, rude, pig-headed brute of a man, with no past to speak of and fewer future prospects. He has nothing behind him but a string of one-night stands and violent encounters, and he has pursued even...he has pursued everything in a skirt! This alleged relationship is a sham and a disaster!”
Jubilation Lee:
“Well, let’s see. They are completely hot for each other. I mean, they are going at it all the time. In their room, in the woods, in the coat closet...I mean, they’re careful around the kids and all, but when the lights go out there’s not a room in the mansion safe from the Logan and Marie lovin’. Like, did I mention the pool table? And the picnic table? And...what’s that? Oh, another thing they have in common? Okay, let me think. They are both totally bad-ass, for one. I mean, ass-kicking extraordinaire, on both sides. And together -- let me tell you, dude, together they are a force to be reckoned with. There was this one time...”
Henry McCoy:
“That’s a very interesting question. They are both extremely loyal to their friends. They both have a bit of a temper. They are kind, and both very intelligent in a way that often others underestimate. They care strongly and deeply about each other. It’s quite...affecting, actually, to see the way they interact.”
Rogue:
“Things we have in common? Gosh, there’s so much! I mean, we both love the outdoors. Love to just hike, or camp out. And we both have a little of the wanderlust, ya know? We always come back to the mansion, but there’s few places on this earth that neither one of us have been to. And then, you know...there’s the...um...sex stuff. I mean, I would call us very, um, sexually compatible. Is it okay to say that?”
Logan:
“We both drink Jack Daniels.”
Question Number Three: When did the relationship become romantic?
Scott Summers:
“God. I don’t even want to think about it! I mean, she was just a child when they met. I mean, with his healing, he could be hundreds of years old! Compared to him, she’s still a child. That’s just...no.”
Jubilation Lee:
“Now, if anyone knew that, there’s a sizable betting pool waiting for the claiming. I mean -- geez! Sometime in the last five years? Does that narrow it down enough?”
Dr. Henry McCoy:
“I believe the cohabitation began in March of last year. Yes, I distinctly remember assisting Rogue with the boxes, shortly before St. Patrick’s Day. She was so happy that day...just a delight to see! And Logan, was delighted too, in his rather...understated...way. As for any more...intimate matters...I would absolutely not presume to speculate.”
Rogue:
“Wow, that’s a tough question, you know? I mean, we were friends, right from the start. Good friends. I mean, he saved my life, more’n once, just in the first few days we knew each other. An’ I had a crush on him, of course I did. Everyone did, I mean...who wouldn’t? But then...I got over it, and we were friends again. The best of friends. And then...it was just more. I think both of us were scaredta act on it, ya know? Scared of losing what we had, because bein’ friends with each other -- that was the biggest thing. But then...we took the chance, and it was...jus’ fantastic. Everythin’ I coulda dreamed of.”
Logan:
“Later on.”
Question Number Four: What attracted them to each other?
Scott Summers:
“It has to be the whole ‘bad boy’ routine, right? The smoking, and the motorcycle, and the...the tight jeans! Women...they think that’s what they want, but it’s not what’s good for them. Stability. A sense of honor. Courtesy. That’s what women really need, not...that whole growly thing that he has going on!”
Jubilation Lee:
“What attracted them to each other? Have you seen his BODY? And HER BODY? I mean, she had those boobies even at sixteen. Some girls have all the luck, ya know?”
Dr. Henry McCoy:
“I believe the strongest of relationships are built on a foundation of mutual care and respect. And, of course, there is no denying that those two share a certain...forgive the pun -- animal magnetism?”
Rogue:
“He’s always there for me. An’...he’s a good guy. Loyal, ya know? An’ up-front. He doesn’t play games, doesn’t say stuff he doesn’t really mean. He makes me laugh. And he’s smart, too. He doesn’t show it to a lot of people, but he knows a lot about a lot of things. We take care of each other. It’s jus’...easy with him. Right.”
Logan:
“She’s mine. Always has been.”
QUESTIONS FOR THE COUPLE:
Question Number One: What shampoo does she use?
Rogue:
“It’s a lemongrass one now. He doesn’t like the ones that are really scented.”
Logan:
“When I first picked her up, that time in Alaska, it smelled like flowers. Sweet pea, mostly. At the mansion she tried a few different ones. Sometimes flowery, sometimes citrus. But when we started...she noticed, you know? That I don’t like the smelly ones. The one she has now is real mild. Fresh. Like her. She’s real thoughtful that way.”
Question Number Two: Favorite foods.
Rogue:
“Steak. Bloody.”
Logan:
“That ice cream, with the cookie dough in it. She eats all the chunks out. Why she doesn’t just buy cookie dough, I don’t know. I keep askin’, but she never has a good answer.”
Question Number Three: Parents
Rogue:
“Honey, he’s probably more’n 100 years old. Whatever parents he had are long gone by now.”
Logan:
“Have I met her parents? If I ever meet those bastards, they’ll have a claw up their ass so fast…”
Question Number Four: Television shows:
Rogue:
“He pretends it’s Top Gear, but when he thinks I’m not watching he likes to watch reruns of Sanford and Son. And he hums the theme song when he thinks nobody’s around.”
Logan:
“Those British shows, with the accents and stuff.”
Question Number Five: What size is your bed?
Rogue:
“It’s a queen. We like to sleep close together anyway. But the duvet is a king, we both hog the covers, so we need one that’s extra-big.”
Logan:
“Big enough.”
Question Number Six: What color are your spouse’s pajamas?
Rogue:
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t giggle, I know. But we sleep nekkid.”
Logan:
“What does she wear to bed? Nothin’. And also, none of your fuckin’ business, Bub.”
Question Number Seven: Where do you see yourselves in ten years?
Rogue:
“I think about that a lot, ya know? I mean, once you find the man you are gonna be with forever, I guess those kinda thoughts come natural. I know we both care a lot about the mansion here, and the kids. But I think there might be another place for us, too. Maybe a cabin, up in the North. Not too far, but far enough that we’d be on our own. Until maybe, we didn’t need to be on our own anymore, you know...maybe have a few little ones. Logan gets shy when I say it, but he’d be a great dad, you know? Someone to rely on, someone to look up to. I think he’d be a natural at that.”
Logan:
“With Marie. For as long as she wants me.”
Mr. Schroeder followed behind Rogue as she led him through the mansion hallways. He tried not to be twitchy, knowing the man Logan was close behind him, but he was not certain if he was succeeding.
“I could give you the full tour, if you like,” Rogue was saying. “The place is massive, with stables, an’ a swimmin’ pool, an’ all that, but…”
“Just your shared rooms are fine,” Mr. Schroeder said hurriedly. He didn’t want to spend one more moment in this madhouse than necessary.
“Sure.” Rogue finally stopped in front of a door, opening it with a key. “When we moved in together the Professor gave us a new room. Real sweet of him.” She paused before opening the door.
“Logan, honey? Why doncha wait outside. You know how growly it makes ya when someone else is in your space.”
Mr. Schroeder nodded his agreement quite enthusiastically. Whatever ‘growly’ meant, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to see it.
Logan cast his wife a narrow-eyed look, but nodded his agreement. He settled himself out in the hallway, back to the wall, staring at nothing.
Rogue smiled sweetly and ushered Mr. Schroeder into the room. She said nothing as he opened drawers, poked around in their medicine cabinet, even sniffed their shampoo bottles, making careful notes on his clipboard the whole time.
Finally he retracted his pen nib and put his pen carefully back into his breast pocket.
“I believe I am done,” he stated, hoping his relief wasn’t entirely evident in his voice.
“Sure thing. Let me just show you the balcony. The view is amazin’.”
“I really don’t think I need…”
“Right this way,” Rogue said, opening the French doors with an encouraging smile.
Mr. Schroeder’s only excuse was that he must have been somewhat dazed by that smile, because he found himself out on the balcony before he knew it. Rogue softly closed the doors behind him.
“Here’s somethin’ you should know,” she said without preamble. “Logan an’ I...we belong together. We always have. Maybe it took us awhile to admit it, but we got each other now, and we’re never lettin’ go. An’ I protect what’s mine.” The soft emerald-green eyes suddenly had a steely glint to them.
“The skin and the healin’s just the beginnin’. I got all the powers of everyone I ever touched. I can fly. I got super-strength. I got fire…” -- at this, a small flame appeared in the palm of Rogue’s hand -- “an’ ice…” -- the flame turned to crystal ice, and Rogue clenched her fist, crushing it into nothing. “I can control metal,” she continued, as the pen danced in Mr. Schroeder’s breast pocket. “An’ a bunch more stuff I won’t even bother to name.”
Rogue took a step forward, and there was such cold determination in her expression that Mr. Schroeder instinctively stuttered a step backwards, the balustrade of the balcony pressing sharply underneath his shoulder blades.
“If somethin’ happened to split Logan and me up...I jus’ don’t know what I’d do. Do you understand what I’m sayin’ to you, Mr. Schroeder?”
Mr. Schroeder clutched the clipboard in front of him protectively. “Is...is that a threat?” He had been going for a firm, disdainful tone, but it came out with much more of a...whimper...than he had intended.
Rogue smiled. “Of course not. Jus’ thinkin’ aloud, you know how it is. I’ll show you out.”
She opened the French doors, looking once again the beautiful and gracious young woman from earlier. Mr. Schroeder followed, practically stumbling over his feet in his eagerness to be gone.
Rogue pulled open the door to the hallway, and Logan shifted away from his lean against the wall.
“Hi honey!” she chirped cheerily. “I was just gonna show Mr. Schroeder out.”
“I’ll do it,” the gruff man snarled.
“Now, sugar, are you…” she started, just as Mr. Schroeder protested as well. “I really don’t need anyone…”
“I said I’ll do it,” Logan snarled, the look in his eye silencing them both.
With a jerk of his head he started down the hallway. With a thick gulp, Mr. Schroeder followed him. He was being ridiculous. The man was simply showing him out. He was absolutely, positively not walking to his certain death. Nonetheless, half-forgotten words from his childhood rang in his head.
Hail Mary, full of grace, please take care of my cat…
By the time they reached the front door he was almost blubbering. He would be a better person, he really would. He would get printer paper from the supply room, and not steal it from the photocopier anymore just because it was closer. He wouldn’t complain about Linda clipping her toenails at her desk. He’d return all phone messages, even when it was someone stupid calling with the same question they’d already asked him a million times…
Then they were outside, and his car was so close, just at the edge of the gravel drive. He was going to make it, he really was…
“I gotta tell you somethin’,” the gruff man snarled, and Mr. Schroeder could have sobbed as his hopes of a quick escape vanished.
Logan planted himself in front of the driver’s side door of the car, facing Mr. Schroeder down.
“Marie…” Logan started, and then suddenly looked at his feet. “Rogue…” he began again, and then he trailed off again.
Mr. Schroeder had a sudden, ridiculous thought. Was this...was this burly, feral, brute of a man...being shy?
“Rogue was always too good for me,” he finally got out. “I knew it right from the start. Everybody knew it. I tried to keep away from her, and it worked...well, kinda...for years. She got over her crush on me, and I had a lid so tight on my feelings for her that no one would ever find out. Least of all her.”
He shoved his hands in his back pocket, looking up at the sky now. “I was willing to go the rest of my life like that. Lovin’ her, but never lettin’ her know. Because I’m a no-good sonuvabitch and she’s…”
He blinked a few times, and then sighed. “She’s...beautiful, and smart, and carin’, and so full of life, and...and just...everythin’. She’s everythin’ good in this world.”
He tipped his head down, finally meeting Mr. Schroeder’s eyes. “I’ve done a lot of things in my life, and I’m sure I did even more in the part of my life I don’t remember. And if there’s one thing that’s certain, it’s that I don’t deserve somethin’ so good. But she kept workin’ on me, tryin’ to convince me. Tellin’ me that she couldn’t be happy with anyone but me, an’ in the end…”
He scratched the back of his head somewhat bashfully. “In the end, there’s nothin’ I could ever deny her. So, I figured I’d give this a shot. Do the best I could by her, and then when she got tired of me and moved on to somebody else...somebody better...I’d give ’em my blessin’, and move on. I never meant to tie her to me, but then when this immigration thing came up, she was so dead set on marryin’ me, an’ I…”
He shrugged, kicking the dirt a little. “I couldn’t deny her that neither. So what I’m sayin’...”
Logan’s eyes lifted, that intense hazel gaze spearing right through Mr. Schroeder. “If there’s some fallout from this...if you need someone to take the blame, or somethin’...I’m tellin’ you right now, that’s me. Leave Marie out of it. She’s young, and bright, and she’ll move on after awhile, even if she doesn’t think so now. But Marie...you leave her alone. I’ll do whatever you guys want...whoever is bringin’ this pressure down on us, if it’s to get me...workin’ for the government again, whatever it is, I’ll do it. Just leave Marie alone. You got that?”
Mr. Schroeder nodded dumbly. Logan opened the car door, and Mr. Schroeder slid into the driver’s seat. Logan shut the car door gently, and nodded once.
Mr. Schroeder turned the key in the ignition and threw the car into reverse. Next to the car, Logan turned and started back toward the house, shoulders slumped.
Mr. Schroeder hesitated, his hands on the steering wheel. He could leave, he could leave right now…
Slowly, he removed one hand from the steering wheel and pressed the button to lower the window a few inches. “Mister Smith?” he called out.
Logan turned, looking back. “Yeah?”
Mr. Schroeder almost quailed again under the force of that gaze, but he gathered his courage.
“Mister Smith, I think you and...and Miss Rogue, are perfect for each other. And as for having you deported back to Canada…” He stammered a little as the gaze intensified. “I’d...I don’t think we’re ever going to go to war with Canada, but if we ever did I’d sure want you on our side. Both of you.”
He mustered up his most official voice. “It is my pleasure to inform you that this investigation has concluded. The complaint issued by Mr. Scott Summers has been found to be unsubstantiated, and the marriage between yourself and Ms. D’Ancanto is irrefutably legitimate.”
It may have been a twitch in his cheek, like a tic or something, but it might have even been a smile.
“Thanks, Mr. Schroeder,” he growled. Even his thanks were growly, Mr. Schroeder marveled.
“Goodbye, Mr. Smith.”
Mr. Schroeder turned the car and started down the gravel driveway. He had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life than that mansion in his rearview mirror.
Rogue and Wolverine, he thought. He hadn’t been kidding. They were perfect for each other. Perfectly crazy, perfectly violent, and perfectly scary as hell. But perfect for each other.