[For Moira and Layla] Introductions

[howmanylives]

Even now, after all this time, Jamie Madrox was never one for routine. He’d managed for a while, shortly after his suicide attempt, but besides his daily standing appointment with Reid and baseball practices, he’d done away with it almost entirely, preferring instead to wait and see, playing things by ear in case something more interesting cropped

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[butterflyfactor]

Layla glanced sideways at Jamie, long enough to lift an eyebrow at the idea, before she turned back to rinsing her own dish in the sink. The island weather happily suited the wardrobe she'd arrived in, and the clothes box was happily coughing up plenty of pairs of jeans with questionable lengths and halter tops.

It had not yet been forthcoming with strips, but she had her own, and there was a washing machine. She'd even taught Jamie how to use it.

She'd cropped the bottom of the Frankie Says Relax t-shirt the box had given her so it read Frankie Says, and had looped the straps of the capri denim overalls around her waist and hips so they acted more like a belt, and found herself less offended than she would have anticipated. Island life, in general, was less offensive than she'd have thought it would be, except for one glaringly huge problem that gnawed at her every second of every day she spent there

[nostoppinglife]

Moira wasn't generally one to interrupt the conversations of others, but with Jamie, it seemed perfectly natural. The girl was unfamiliar, but the M tattooed over her eye, so like Jamie's, suggested the friendship might not have been a new one, and it was difficult -- not to mention unnecessary -- to suppress her curiosity. So much, it seemed, had happened between her time and that from which most of the others had come.

"I'd wager that dog of his'll keep him busier than any trainin' might," she said, stepping past the girl to get to the coffee. She glanced over at Jamie, brow raising. "Ye gonna introduce me t' yuir friend, lad?"

[howmanylives]

"Moira," said Jamie, sounding equally parts surprised and guilty, like he'd been caught doing wholly inappropriate. The chair fell forward with a clatter, and he braced himself against the table, fingers spread wide along the edge. Pushing himself up, he got to his feet, quickly making his way over to where they were standing.

"Uh, hi, of course," he added, eyebrows raised, and he gave a flustered little wave, gesturing to them both. "This... is Layla Miller. She's, uh, my--" He cut himself short, changing tact mid-sentence: "Layla, this is Moira MacTaggert, Nobel Prize winner, brilliant geneticist, and, most importantly, the closest person I have to a mother."

[butterflyfactor]

The fact that his brain hasn't physically exploded out of his skull is pretty impressive.

"Doctor MacTaggert," Layla said, smiling and offer the woman her hand, "it's a pleasure to meet you."