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Working in a bar was not a part of Maeve's plan, but, when her mother asked for some help after losing a few bartenders she couldn't bring herself to turn her down. So, from then on she spent her Saturday nights bar tending. It was nice to have something to keep her occupied, she rationalized, and it would give her the perfect opportunity to look for a job nursing. She would be able to pad her bank account in case of emergencies, and maybe even be able to buy her own apartment somewhere in the city. All in all, working at the bar seemed to be a blessing in disguise.
That night, a pair of unfamiliar men walked in. This was uncommon, Maeve usually knew everyone that stepped through the door. The taller of the two was muscular, with a chiseled face dotted with stubble. His mischievous eyes scanned the room until they met her own, which caused a warm blush to rise up her face. He leaned to his companion, whispering something in his ear. The shorter of the two smiled softly, meeting Maeve's gaze with piercing blue eyes. Maeve's breath hitched in her throat, and she turned her attention to cleaning the table in front of her. The two walked up, sitting at the barstools across from her. The blue eyed man smiled kindly, his arms resting on the table.
"Hello love, my name is Charles Xavier, and this is my associate: Erik Lehnsherr. May I ask your name?" His accented voice hummed to her, which did not help Maeve convince herself that he was not attractive. She hesitated to meet his eyes yet again, but subconsciously she was drawn to the bright blue of his irises.
"I'm Maeve," she choked out, inwardly cursing herself for her awkward nature, "Maeve Locklear." The man smiled at how timid she was, and he couldn't help himself but raise a hand to his temple as casually as he could. He would only take a little peak into her head, not too long, just long enough to see what she was thinking.
These two are new, and very attractive in comparison to the rest of the bar goers. His eyes are so pretty... is he still staring at me? What do I do? Ask them if they want a drink, Mae, it's not hard, it's your job. Charles grinned as he naturally let his hand fall to cup his cheek, resting his head.
"Do either of you want—"
"A drink? Yes dear, I'll have whiskey." Charles smiled softly, her flustered expression endearing to him. "And my friend here wants a beer, I believe." Charles looked to Erik, getting confirmation for something he already knew to be a fact. Erik simply nodded.
Maeve prepared the drinks hastily, eyeing the group leaving in the back corner. She figured that could be her excuse to get away from the devilishly handsome men sitting across from her. She handed them their drinks with a half smile and attempted to scurry away. Before she could do so, a hand wrapped around her wrist; she immediately tensed up. She had been used to the drunks that came into the bar and 'flirted' with her, so she couldn't stop herself from the natural reaction to the contact.
