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Post by Northstar on Dec 14, 2005 14:02:13 GMT -5
Draped over his furniture in drunken indulgence, Jean-Paul tipped his head at the sound of a familiar chirp. Someone was on the com. Briefly considering the possibility it might be Mystique, perhaps pointedly asking how the workout was going, he flowed to his feet with loose-limbed to grace to extract the device as it wound down: Magik’s room; full uniform; five minutes. It was Marvel’s voice.
“I’ll be there in a minute or two,” he replied, ennui fading in the face of a little excitement. Booze recapped and set away, he sped up: the buzz of speed burned away the fuzz of alcohol, sobriety bleeding back into his mind. Pausing for water -- Hangover on a mission? No fun. -- he changed, a blur to normal senses. Then he was out the door, dropping back to normal speeds.
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