Guessing (Charles Xavier)

1. Alcohol Intake Could Be a Mutation

"Haven, come on," Francesca complains, tugging on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. "We're gonna be late."

"For the hundredth time, I'm not going," I groan, pulling my arm back to my body. Fran's my flat mate- she does waitressing at a local pub and I attended university, so we shared the rent. A friend had invited her to a brother's party, for passing a thesis or summat, and Fran was refusing to leave without me. "I have an exam tomorrow and-"

"You don't even have classes tomorrow," Fran accuses happily, and I bite my lip, punching myself mentally for making up such a bad excuse. "Um, I don't have anything to wear?" I try again hopefully.

"Already done," she exclaims, throwing one of her dresses on the desk in front of me. "And before you say that it's too cold to wear a dress, we both know full well that your trench is long enough to reach your knees, and there's a taxi waiting outside already."

"I-"

"Get dressed," Fran orders, and in less than ten minutes the two of us are sat in the cab, on our way.

"This is such a bad idea," I groan, hitting my head against the car window.

"It isn't. Haven, you used to love going out and drinking with me-"

"That was before the night that I stayed sober and I found you all bruised and done up like a kipper in an alleyway."

"The bitch punched me first."

"Yeah, well, I spent the entire night holding back your hair as you regurgitated the fifty pounds you spent on alcohol that night."

"It'll be better this time," she says stubbornly, and the two of us get out. I pay the taxi driver because I'm planning to drink and Fran said the drinks were on her.

The pub is booming with customers and I fight the urge to just go back to the flat again. It's not a night when I really want to get drunk, but I'm sure it'll change after my first pint.

"This friend of yours better be worth this," I mutter. "Or her brother, or his thesis. Whatever it is."

"Raven!" Francesca squeals with excitement when we get into the pub. She's hugging a gorgeous blonde woman, and when she pulls away, we get introduced.

"Raven, this is my flat mate and best friend, Haven. Haven, this is my waitress darling, Raven. She invited us."

"Aww, our names rhyme," Raven coos sweetly. "You're a cute one, aren't you?" She pinches my cheeks and I bite my grimace back with a grin. I doubt I'm actually much younger than her, but a lot of people assume that I'm adorable because I'm shorter than 160 centimeters and haven't grown in forever.

"I'll leave you two to it then," I smile, because I'm sure that they have their occupational gossip that won't be very involving for me, and alcohol sounds like more of a good idea with each breath I take.

"Wait, Haven. I'll introduce you to my brother. He passed his thesis today, this is in honor of him," Raven tells me, gesturing to the entire pub. "Franny told me you were in Oxford, too. What's your major?"

"Psychology," I say. "Minor in genetic mutations."

Raven looks at me with an odd smile. "You're gonna get along extraordinarily well with him."

He's probably an old geezer, I thought, until Raven taps a young man on the shoulder, who's dressed in formal attire that had been rumpled by the party.

"Charles?"

"Mm," the guy hums. When he turns around to see me, he offers a kind smile. "Who's this lovely lady?"