"Maybe is the operative word. I'd even go so far as to say "probably". But that's the funny thing about love, it's not logical or rational." She practically had to bite her tongue in order to not say anything vulgar after that. Because she really hated that, really fucking hated that. She had ambitious plans and even for a girl with one-third the normal need for sleep, time was a precious commodity for her. She was grateful for the near-invisible server that topped up their wine.

"Have you been to a Hellfire Club function lately, Brooke?" Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "Here in New York, it's practically a ghost town. Father was the heart and soul of that place. The really important people don't go anymore."

The truth was that she considered the Hellfire Club a hopelessly antiquated concept.

"If we could find some means of gathering all the important figures in the mutant community for some manner of gala ... now that, that would be useful." Not specifically to find an eligible bachelor. Her usual spirit seemed to return a little as the conversation drifted towards ambitions and work.

"It'll have to happen eventually. Especially when my plans for the 11th Street Shelter come to fruition."