"Hardheaded fool!"
James sighed in frustration. He had thought that, as a fellow politician and a senior official in the American government, Robert Kennedy might be more perceptive and flexible.
The butler brought in a pot of fresh tea, brewed from a rare variety that yielded only a few pounds each year on an ancient mountain in the East. Even the water was said to come from the summit of the Himalayas.
The Howlett family's daily comforts and quality of life could no longer be measured in simple terms of money and material wealth.
Mr. Kennedy had meant to ingratiate himself by pouring the tea for James.
But the elegant butler, his temples just beginning to gray, refused him without a trace of awkwardness. With practiced movements, performed in a distinctive rhythm and style, he poured half a cup for each of them.
"Give it a try. Only a handful of people in the East can drink this tea right now. You could be called a 'president' already, so you're important enough for it."
Kennedy picked up the little cup, its pale purple glaze smooth and delicate, and drank it in one gulp.
He couldn't say whether it was good or bad. He only felt a long, ancient flavor rise across his tongue, unlike anything he had ever tasted.
"Tell me, do you worry that your children might be Mutants one day?"
Robert nodded gravely. He and his brother, John Kennedy, were both most worried that their children might inherit this kind of "misfortune."
The butler stood nearby and discreetly poured them each a second cup. Though he remained in the room, Kennedy found himself oddly unable to keep the man's presence in mind.
James didn't hurry to drink his second cup. Instead, he continued:
"Then does every ordinary American