"Grey-Ramsey," Brooke said softly. "She hasn't been Summers for a very, very long time, Alistaire." She sighs softly. "Rachel wouldn't. For the most part, she wants nothing to do with connections to the Hellfire Club. You do realize that every time Rachel severed ties with your little Cajun spiced tart it was because of you, right? I mean, not that I minded. That hideous excuse for English that she used desperately needed subtitles, and we had no mutant around to grant that power. At least now we don't need to try and decipher her verbal hieroglyphics. Lord only knows how you put up with it for so long." Brooke smiled thinly.

"Emma...I'm not nearly as close to her as I am to Rachel. And saying that Rachel and I are close might not quite be the right word from her point of view. You would need to speak to her, but I'm not certain how helpful she might be towards Sebastian Shaw's grandchild." She raised a small eyebrow. "You're not very well liked in our circle, Alistaire. Surely you must have realized that. War or not, there may not be that many people who are willing to have your back."

If there was one thing that Brooke should ever have been appreciated for - not including her wonderfully ladylike sense of style and fine breeding - it was that her honesty was as brutal as a bullet to the brain.