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 Pretty Green, 9th March | 17:00 | Open
Quicksilver
 Posted: Mar 6 2018, 07:09 AM
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“Once again Quicksilver, the efficiency with which you were able to get the merchandise to us is outstanding. As always your discretion is appreciated.”

Pietro gave his contact a wide smile. He was standing still, a rare state for him to be in but this particular client did not appreciate it when he was in motion. They claimed that it was suspicious, Piet called bullshit but he knew not to say as much. He just made them nervous. Following the toothy smile with an exaggerated eye roll, he waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the person sat behind a large oak desk. “How many times must I tell you?” He spoke in a thick Balkan accent although his English was impeccable. “It is not discretion when I simply do not care.” It was true; Pietro had absolutely no interest in what it was that he carried between clients, nor did he see any value or entertainment in discussing his exploits with anyone else. Not that there were many that he could choose to gossip with. He was a terse man with little patience for most. People like him didn’t have many friends.

Turning away from the generously stacked bookshelves that sat at the back of the room, Pietro headed for the door. By the side of the ornate frame was a small side table covered with a lace sheet. Sitting on top of that was a delicate porcelain dish in which sat a fat brown envelope. It's simple paper form, curled at the edges and wrinkled was in stark contrast to the finery that surrounded it. Pietro would have given his right arm for an office like this; dark and moody, filled with artworks and furniture pieces that boasted of the occupants wealth. It was gauche, indicative of newly acquired money but the Serbian loved it. He didn’t see why a person would try to hide their fortune behind carefully selected, classy objects. If he had the kind of money that this client had, he’d have everything dipped in liquid gold. Pale fingers ran around the edge of the bowl, examining its fragile structure. He thought to ask how much it had cost but stopped himself short of sounding crass. Snatching the wad of cash up he deposited it in the pocket of a bag he had slung over his shoulder.

Reaching for the heavy door he pulled it open without looking back. Although he knew that they could not see him, he offered his customer a sly smile. “Same time next month?” His remark was phrased like a question but really it wasn’t a request. “You know where to find me.” He said before making his way out into the hall. Clear of disapproving eyes he cracked his neck and waited for the door to click shut, his cool gaze falling on a suited security guard stood a little way from him. Offering the man a stern nod of the his head, he took the hint that was implied in his presence and began the walk towards the elevator at a pedestrian pace. The expression on his face clearly demonstrated his distaste for having to comply with his client’s unspoken request to travel slowly but he did as was expected of him; good behaviour was good for business.

Once he had reached the ground floor though all bets were off. Clearing the elevator at an impressive speed, Pietro zipped across the office block lobby, out into the Manhattan streets and straight into an inconveniently placed body. Hitting someone at speed never ended well, the person with whom he had collided fell on their ass, Pietro too, his bag slipping from his shoulders to land in a puddle. The pocket into which he had deposited his earnings had not been zipped shut properly, the envelope of cash had spilled it’s contents and the dollar bills, caught by the strong breeze began to skip and dance across the concrete. An angry scowl knitted Pietro’s brow as he quickly came back to his senses. “Šupak! Watch where you’re going.” He snapped, crawling across the sidewalk on his knees to grab at the escaping money.
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Emma Frost
 Posted: Mar 7 2018, 04:26 PM
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There were days where you just couldn't find a moment for yourself. Today had been one of those days for Emma Frost, where she had rolled from one business meeting right into another. Of course most days were like that for the woman, it was simply something that came with running a business as large as Frost International. There was always another deal to make, another business relationship to personally see to fostering, and new ventures to explore. She had people under her for all of these things, but with as many other companies as Frost International did business with Emma usually found herself rather busy. Not that she had any objections to that; this was the life she had chosen for herself and stuck to even though she had long earned enough money to retire and never have to worry about making ends meet for the rest of her life. She loved navigating the often cutthroat corporate world, though at times it was nice to find the time to catch your breath.

Fortunately, Emma's last meeting had ended earlier than expected. She had anticipated that this particular business partner would have required more convincing to renegotiate a deal between their two companies. But a good deal was a good deal, and even a price cut on a smaller scale could lead to an overall increase in profit. Emma was content that it had not taken much convincing to get them to see things her way, even if she wouldn't have objected to some hard negotiations. That was one of the things she enjoyed most about her work, even if she did occasionally cheat by using her telepathic powers to her advantage. Never to simply force a deal, but in her line of work simply having access to the kind of information that your business partners would rather keep to themselves could provide an edge if you knew how to properly use it to your advantage.

With her next meeting not for another two hours, Emma was suddenly left with more time than she had planned for. Enough to have her plans for a quick dinner changed to something where she'd have the time to actually sit back and unwind with a good glass of wine and actually enjoy her meal instead of feeling like she had to rush through it to be ready for her next appointment. Plus, it allowed her to do some additional work to better prepare herself for her upcoming meeting, which was never a bad thing. For Emma, there was no such thing as being too prepared.

Of course with how New York traffic was, she could very well end up wasting all the time she had won by powering through that meeting by standing on the sidewalk waiting for her chauffeur to pick her up. She had been waiting for nearly ten minutes already, and during that time had even considered calling her driver to tell him she wouldn't be needing him right now and grabbing a cab instead. A ridiculous notion, of course, and one that Emma had quickly dismissed. She hadn't worked her way up to the top of New York's business elite to sit in the back of a cheap vehicle worrying about who else had been sat there before her and what on Earth those stains in the fabric lining the seats were.

Of course if ruining her expensive outfit was a concern, perhaps taking a cab would have been the better choice. At least then she wouldn't have been knocked off her feet by some idiot practically running into her. One moment she was standing there, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind that had picked up a little was not making her wait any more pleasant, then the next she was flat on the pavement. Perhaps she hadn't been standing in the most convenient spot, but she was away from the heavy foot traffic on the sidewalk and everyone else who had come out of the building she was stood in front had managed to walk around her just fine.

To make matters worse, the man who had bumped into her had the gall to blame her for it. "You walked into me, you halfwit," she snapped back at the platinum haired idiot. "I was standing perfectly still." And now she was sat perfectly still, not about to go through the awkward process of attempting to get up from the ground while wearing five inch heels and a short dress. A dress that, she reckoned, had been ruined by her little tumble; white was not a colour that went well with the dirty sidewalks of New York City. Emma sighed at that thought, reaching for her purse so she could call Melissa and ask her assistant to make sure there was a new outfit waiting for her at the office in an hour. She could not show up for a meeting at the bank looking like - by her own standards - a homeless woman that had happened upon some designer clothing and a pair of killer pumps.

Meanwhile the dolt who had knocked her off her feet was scrambling to grab the money he had dropped, instead of bothering to collect his manners and help her back up. Emma pursed her lips as she watched him, phone drawn from her purse and clutched in her right hand. She would find out this man's name first, and then she would place a suggestion in his mind that would see him do something utterly embarrassing every time someone uttered it in his presence, she just needed to decide what it would be. Perhaps the good old compulsion to publicly touch himself would be a good one; it was never a bad idea to just run with a classic if you couldn't think of another option on the spot.

Quicksilver
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Quicksilver
 Posted: Mar 20 2018, 10:04 AM
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Be polite. Be polite.

Pietro wasn’t the world’s most genial of men; he found people largely very irritating and wasn’t prepared to accept that those very same people likely thought the same of him. But he wasn’t an altogether terrible person, really just the victim of his own mutation. From his place on the sidewalk, collecting the money that had spilled form his bag, the words spoken to him by his sister on more than one painful occasion echoed through his mind. He had bumped into the woman who now sat across from him; Pietro was arrogant, a little self obsessed, quick to cast the blame on others where he could but he also knew when to accept that he was wrong. Stuffing the rescued bills into his pocket and grabbing his bag, the speedster stood quickly to his feet and made his way slowly towards the woman that he had knocked over, extending a hand to help her up.

She was attractive and well dressed, the latter unsurprising in a city such as New York, the former of no consequence to the Serb at all beyond his being able to casually observe it. She wore her scowl well, it almost suited her, but he was no idiot and certainly not lulled into any false sense of security by the way it almost seemed to make her look fierce in her beauty rather than angry. He was going to suffer for not only bumping into her but for immediately accusing her of being in the way. “Forgive me.” He said, blue eyes fixed on her’s. “This halfwit is always rushing.” It hurt just a little to repeat her insult, Pietro did not consider himself at all stupid, but in this instance he thought it might do him better to at least appear as though he was agreeing with the woman.

Helping the woman to her feet, the silver haired speedster offered her his best apologetic smile. He was really trying, the struggle not to just roll his eyes at her clear frustration was very real. “I hope that you’re not hurt.That was a genuine concern; Pietro was not at all keen on adding careless assault to his list of achievements. It always took him a moment to register that being hit at speed was more uncomfortable for those he bumped into than himself since his own body was built to withstand the force of travelling at speeds of up to Mach 10. “And that your dress is salvageable. Please send me the bill for the dry cleaners or a replacement.” At a cost that would likely hit him where it hurt if he had guessed correctly; Pietro wasn’t penniless but neither was he moneyed.

His business made him enough income that whatever the cost to replace the no doubt designer item would not see him destitute but he’d have to hold off on the purchase of yet another new pair of sneakers that month. “And please accept my apology for my language earlier. Work, you know. It’s stressful.” Which wasn’t altogether untrue, just because he could cover the whole tri-state area in ten minutes didnt mean he didn’t find the work demanding. It likely wasn’t what made him such a snarky bastard though. “Pietro Maximoff.” He continued, “Send the bill to Quicksilver Express Deliveries on 38th Street, Midtown West. It’s the least I can do.

Emma Frost
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Emma Frost
 Posted: Mar 24 2018, 07:14 PM
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Regarding the silver haired man who hadn't bothered to see where he was going enough to simply sidestep her with cool, blue eyes, watching as he finished gathering his money and got back on his feet, Emma cocked her head slightly. She'd referred to the man as a halfwit, a moniker she'd stick with for now, but the briefest of glimpses at the man's mind made it clear he was anything but slow witted. His mind worked exceptionally fast, rather, the speed at which he seemed to take in information and process it far quicker than other people did. Emma was pretty sure that made bumping into her and knocking her down worse, but the realisation what kind of man she was dealing with here made her slightly less inclined to do something very unfortunate to his mind.

"Isn't everyone in Manhattan always in a rush?" Emma remarked as she took Quicksilver's hand and allowed him to help her back onto her feet. "Apology accepted," she told him instead of offering him any words of forgiveness, which he might have gotten had he extended an actual apology. The man walked a rather unusual line here, speaking in a way that would normally come across as polite, but somehow came across as lacking in that department at the same time. Emma was not quite sure what to make of him. Normally she would have a clearer edge in situations like this, thanks to her telepathic ability, but she found reading the man's mind to be a bit unpleasant, like listening to someone speak too fast. She could make sense of it with a bit more effort, but she wasn't really inclined to.

Checking herself briefly when the man expressed some measure of concern about her wellbeing, Emma offered a light shrug. The palm of her left hand had a light scrape on it, but beyond that only her dress and pride had been affected in the tumble. "I'm sure I'll be okay," she assured the platinum-haired man. "The dress..." Emma paused briefly to heave a small sigh. "I'm afraid that's a lost cause, but that's really no concern of yours." She wouldn't say it out loud, but the dress she was wearing was so last season. She wasn't planning on sending it to the dry cleaner's or having it replaced, she'd just have it disposed of. Perhaps this was just the universe's way of telling her that wearing last season's Oscar de la Renta had been a mistake.

When the man finally shared his name, Emma gave him a polite nod in response. "Emma Frost," she introduced herself, biting back the urge to follow that up with the name of her company and the address the main office was located at. "So, you run your own business, Mr. Maximoff?" Emma wondered, looking Pietro up and down briefly as if she could judge his business by doing so. "Do you have a business card I could have?" He had just told her the name and address of his company, but if Emma had to remember any and all business contacts, prospective or otherwise, she'd more or less have to map out all of Manhattan in her mind.

"It's always good to see someone like us show some entrepreneurial spirit and make something of themselves," she added, giving Pietro a brief, knowing look. "Perhaps the unfortunate way we met can be turned into an opportunity, something mutually beneficial" she proposed. The man had acted like an ass initially, sure, but when it came to her own kind Emma Frost was rather inclined to be more forgiving, and her inclination to support mutant-run businesses had her curious to see if something good could come out of having what she was assuming was a speedster knocking her off her feet.
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Quicksilver
 Posted: Apr 11 2018, 08:06 AM
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Arching an eyebrow at the woman who he had just helped back to her feet, Pietro clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. Okay so she didn’t want him to repay her for the spoiled dress, he wasn’t going to argue with that, it was at least one less bill for him to consider that month and it was no doubt expensive too. Business owner he might have been but he wasn’t wealthy by any real stretch of the imagination; he made enough to pay the rent on his own place and the apartment that he shared with Wanda, to cover bills and to feed and clothe himself. Beyond that Pietro really didn’t have that much expendable cash and would have been loathe to bill his own company for the damage. Nevertheless, he knew that it would be polite to insist so he made a unimaginative effort that did nothing more than give away his lack of any real will. “Oh but Ms Frost, please if you change your mind about the dress.” Before swiftly moving onto answer the question that she had posed him about his business. “I do.

Quicksilver Express Deliveries didn’t really consist of much beyond a small office in Midtown in the basement of a Chinese takeout. There were no other staff than himself; he took the calls, made the deliveries, processed the paperwork and audited the accounts, reasoning that he couldn’t exactly put out a ‘mutants required’ advertisement. He wouldn’t work with humans that was for sure, it almost offended him to even have to make deliveries to them. But the point was, apart from the fact that he knew he’d be an insufferable boss, the ability to get from A to B in record time was an essential job requirement and he wasn’t sure how many more speedsters or teleporters perhaps, there were in the NYC area. It meant, of course, that the business had never been able to expand. Whilst he might have been able to cover the whole tri-state area in no time at all even Quicksilver had his limits. To the number of packages he could carry at once, to the number of deliveries he could complete in any given time.

That he really had no idea about running a business was a contributing factor too. He just ran the company because he couldn’t stand the thought of working for anyone else, nor did he think that he would last long doing so, and because it was putting his best attribute to work; namely his speed. Reaching into his bag he produced a business card that he really ought to have presented the lady with at the point of offering to pay her dry cleaning bill. He wasn’t in the habit of selling Quicksilver Express Deliveries to strangers; just another reason why the business had never expanded- Q wasn’t into networking. He handed over the small piece of card, a not particularly premium looking thing printed on poor quality stock, nodding his head in understanding as the blonde hinted at her own mutant status. He wondered then what her powers might be given that whatever her mutation was, it didn’t appear to be physical.

Given that I can cover the whole tri-state area in roughly three hours on foot, I specialise in ultra express delivery.” Multinational consumer companies were offering one hour services, but if the package was ready to go Q could deliver items across the length of Manhattan in roughly a minute. Not that he dealt much with the average Joe. “I mostly deliver messages and small items between businesses and certain select individuals.” He clarified, he didn’t have the staff to begin stealing business from the mail companies contracted to companies like Amazon. “What sort of opportunity, Ms Frost?” He asked, stepping out of the way of passing commuters. He knew nothing about this woman beyond the obvious fact that she was wealthy; even if he hadn’t been able to appreciate the quality of her dress, Emma carried herself like a woman of class and status. As such he was unsure of what either could offer one another unless she merely meant that she had something she wanted him to deliver. Beyond that his almost non existent business prowess meant that no ideas struck him. “Perhaps you should call me if there is something you wish for me to deliver. You have my number now.

Emma Frost
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Emma Frost
 Posted: Apr 11 2018, 03:34 PM
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Taking the business card Quicksilver offered, Emma gave it a cursory glance before putting it away. She didn't take note of its simple design or any of the information on it, she just noted the latter was on it and that was enough for her. If she needed to contact the man again in the future, she would have the means to do so. Frost International already had a courier service that they employed when necessary, of course, but Emma wasn't ashamed to admit she had a bit of a bias towards other mutants. Besides, if what the man told her was true - and she had no reason not to believe he couldn't cover the whole tri-state area on foot in a matter of hours - then employing the man would only benefit the company, and Emma would be doing herself a disservice otherwise.

When Pietro wondered what sort of opportunity she was talking about, Emma briefly raised her eyebrows at him. Apparently the man was not familiar enough with the corporate culture in New York City to recognise her by name. It didn't matter, of course, and quite honestly wasn't all that big of a surprise. Despite how large of a company Frost International was, it didn't have the same brand recognition as companies like Apple, Google or Microsoft, the kinds of businesses that consumers were confronted with far more frequently.

"My company, Frost International, is one of the largest in New York City," Emma informed Pietro matter of factly. It wasn't a brag, if anything not just telling him Frost International was one of the largest companies in the United States would have been more accurate. "If you're as good as you make yourself sound, then I could see some of our business coming your way. Only as much as you can handle, of course." From the way he spoke of his business, it didn't sound like Pietro had anyone else working for him. As fast as he apparently was, Emma wouldn't be shocked if he couldn't quite keep up with everything she might consider might befit his particular set of skills. "I'm very well connected too," Emma went on to add. "A good word from me can get you in virtually anywhere, if you wanted." She didn't want to assume he was lacking for work, Emma simply wanted Pietro to know that the opportunity was there. "As I said earlier, I'm always delighted to see one of our own achieve whatever measure of success befits them."

Emma averted her gaze briefly then, looking off into the distance as if she, at that very moment, considered the plight of their people. "It's not always great out there for our kind, is it?" she remarked, turning her head back to meet the speedster's eyes again. "I'm not one to suggest we all hold hands and braid each other friendship bracelets, but it never hurts to have allies." The one Emma had formed with Charlie had proven to be quite fruitful so far, and while she was hardly under the illusion that Pietro would want to work for her - he didn't strike her as the type - that didn't mean that keeping in touch couldn't be beneficial to both of them. Superhuman speed was definitely something that Emma could imagine coming in handy at some point.

"But where are my manners?" Emma shook her head, as if she'd just gone on without introducing herself, despite having done so already. ::I'm a telepath:: she projected straight into the speedster's mind. She could have just told him the regular way, but where was the fun in that? Besides, Emma didn't make a habit of announcing her mutant ability on crowded Manhattan sidewalks. "Don't worry, I don't make a habit out of prying," she assured him, more out of habit than anything else. If she had a dollar for every person who responded poorly to the idea of being around someone who could read their minds she'd... well, it wouldn't really impact her wealth much because she was already ridiculously wealthy, but she'd have several more dollars at least.
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Quicksilver
 Posted: May 8 2018, 04:23 AM
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Of course he had knocked the owner of one of the largest companies in the city on her, no doubt, incredibly expensive ass. Of course he had. Resisting the urge to take in a deep and withering breath by running a hand through his hair instead, Pietro regarded the woman through steely blue eyes as she spoke. He didn’t say much as she made mention of the connections she had, only nodded his head, hands now shoved into his pockets. Quicksilver delivered packages and other small items not because he had a particular passion for the service but because he was fast and it was pretty much all that he was good at. His head for business was almost non existent and although he knew that her offer of getting him in almost anywhere he wanted was valuable, it just didn’t excite him in the way that it maybe should have. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the offer of more work and would gladly accept whatever came his way; he had bills to pay after all and rather unfortunately for him pretty smiles didn’t go far towards getting that done.

As Emma’s gaze drifted, fixing somewhere off in the distance, Pietro followed as though he too could see whatever invisible point upon which she had settled. When she spoke his attention snapped back to her and he sighed. “No. It is not.” He agreed, an amused smile on his lips at the woman’s lovely metaphor. He wasn’t exactly known for being the ‘peace and love’ type himself; as dedicated to furthering the mutant cause as he was, most people tested Quicksilver’s patience. But she was right, it didn’t hurt to have allies particularly with the way that things were going. “Can’t say that I’m the hand holding type, myself.” He added, “But I agree. It can help even just knowing that there are others out there. Isolation in times like these could prove problematic.” And as displeased as he was by most of humanity, mutants included, Pietro did keep like minded close acquaintances and friends.

The sudden intrusion of Emma Frost’s telepathic message in his mind set the speedster to blinking. It was an odd sensation to have a suddenly slow and steady string of words infiltrate the thoughts that sped through his consciousness at an impossible rate. They stood out as clear as day and oddly reassuring amidst the chaos, setting a smile on his lips. When she reassured him that she was not in the habit of prying he blinked again. His sister wasn’t exactly a telepath but her neuro-electric interface wasn’t entirely dissimilar so the thought had never occurred. “I’ve got nothing to hide.” He said with a shrug, “Nor is there anything of any real interest in there, I can assure you.” He added. What she would see should she look was nothing more than an early history full of anguish and uncertainty that Pietro had all but left behind completely in his teens, and a considerable lack of patience for almost everyone in his life. He wasn’t the most complex of men.

Ms. Frost.” He said firmly, holding a hand out for her to shake. “It would be a pleasure to do business with you, whatever you need that you feel that I or my company could provide, I would be happy to deliver.” No pun intended. How fortunate this chance meeting had turned out to be. He would have to make a habit out of bumping into random strangers more in the future.
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Emma Frost
 Posted: May 14 2018, 05:27 PM
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It did not come as a surprise that Pietro Maximoff was not the hand holding type either. Emma didn't think of the man as unpleasant now that they had moved beyond their initial interactions, but he didn't exude a particular warmth either. No judgement of course, Emma had a reputation for being an ice queen herself simply because she had a pragmatic, to the point manner of dealing with things. As if being efficient and not wanting to spend any more time than strictly necessary on pleasantries were bad traits to have. They were what helped her get to where she was in her life now, while showing warmth and vulnerability had gotten her absolutely nowhere.

That she and Pietro seemed to be on the same line when it came to that, or at least in realising that there was value in having allies without making anything more of that than necessary, pleased Emma. As did his rather blasé response to her revealing her telepathic powers. It was refreshing to have someone react so indifferent towards finding out about what she could do. People so often reacted rather poorly to knowing they were around someone who could read their mind, as if Emma actually made a habit of sifting through their thoughts because she had nothing better to do. Emma wasn't the sort to spend time digging too deeply into the content of a book when the cover already made it clear there was nothing interesting on the inside. Not that she believed that to be true in Pietro's case; Emma was sure that the man was plenty interesting, if not for the content of his mind than at least for what seemed to be quite entertaining personality, but experiencing that didn't require the use of her telepathic abilities.

"Well then, Mr. Maximoff," Emma said as she shook the hand Pietro extended towards her. "I look forward to employing your services." Good help was hard to find, and while she hadn't been disappointed in the delivery services her company had utilised in the past, making sure that business went to someone from the mutant community instead appealed to her. "Now then," she added, "as much as I enjoy standing around on a crowded sidewalk while the chill of the winter air is making me reconsider my choice of attire, I think I'd best be on my way." As she spoke, Emma pulled the collar of her coat up a bit, as if that would somehow suffice to warm her up.

"Despite how things went initially--" Emma's eyes briefly shifted towards where she'd been sat on her bum but a moment ago, "--it's been a pleasure meeting you." She paused for a brief moment, at least from her point of view, before offering up a suggestion. "If you'd care to, stop by my office sometime soon so we can actually set up a business deal." Pietro had her word, but it wouldn't hurt to get something down on paper. Reaching into her purse, Emma pulled out a pristine white business card, simple in design but exquisite in quality. "My assistant could set up a meeting for us. I'll let her know that you are to be given priority over others." It was after all all incredibly impolite to make a speedster wait for anything.

Quicksilver
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