At Meister, a private elite school in New York.
Emma Frost watched Erik Lehnsherr leave the classroom and slowly followed him.
"Do you know what Mr. Howlett usually likes?"
They exchanged greetings and walked side by side. Lately, quite a few students had seen them talking together. They didn't show any particular intimacy, but the school's beautiful student council president—always poised and polite, yet keeping everyone at arm's length—had never been this close to any boy before.
"Dad—well, Dad doesn't seem to have any hobbies besides smoking cigars. He's not much of a drinker, either. He probably likes fighting best, but Azazel says it's been years since he found anyone worth fighting."
Erik thought it over seriously, while Emma frowned slightly beside him.
"Why do you call him Dad? He isn't old at all..."
Emma said with a faint pout. She even suspected Erik was making up the part about James liking to fight. She resisted the urge to use her ability to probe his thoughts.
She had promised Erik she wouldn't read his mind again.
"Heh-heh-heh. Nobody knows how old Dad is."
Erik gave a rather sly grin. The person who had been with James the longest was his former butler, Mr. Casper Fox, and he was already over seventy.
"If he looks young, he isn't old, no matter how many years he's lived. Mr. Howlett looks twenty-five at most."
Emma didn't sound very convinced as she argued back, but then she suddenly remembered that although she was still young—not yet seventeen—one day she would grow old. What would she do then? Even at her tender age, the girl had begun worrying about such an irritating problem.
"See you later, Emma. Mr. Barney's here to pick me up. Dad! What are you doing here?"
Erik was saying goodbye to