The majority of Erik’s time was spent researching. He researched himself, other mutants, deaths, the sentinels, whatever information seemed to be important. As far as he could tell, his future version of him was either dead or on his deathbed. Since there were no reports, just missing case files, Erik assumed the latter was the case. If only he could find him, hear his stories… Erik wanted to know if the years had turned the man jaded, or softened him. The idea was more than intriguing to him.
As he was reading- the newspaper of all things, most certainly giving his age away- a careful hand moved a toy truck across the table he was sitting at. It was subtle enough for most to ignore, but if you looked closer, you could see he wasn’t touching it. The toy truck came to a sudden stop and Erik looked up at the observer with a hard, almost threatening gaze.
Cu stood before an old friend--no longer old-- with a shit-eating grin across his face spread wide. “Ye look good, Maggy. Young, even. ‘Ow’d you get th’ secret ta youth?” He chuckled.
Despite the temper and the rather violent nature of Erik, Cu liked him. He liked his ideals, and the way he went after them no matter what. It was conviction; something the more recent generations needed to get more of in his opinion.
Taking the seat across from him, Cu invited himself to sit. “Oi ‘aven’t seen ye for quite a while, now. ‘Ow ya been?”








