[Klayko]

Marcel had headphones and let his mind go into auto drive to the tunes until someone walked away from their seat and sat in the one directly ahead of him. He was speaking, asking about nervousness, but in all honesty, there was only a matter of assures calm, evident by the partially cocky smirk he sported.

“Not at all,” he insisted with a shrug. “If the Danger Room sessions trained us for anything, it’s all about keeping a steady head until shit hits the fan and from what I’ve heard, shit often hits the fan, but...”

Maybe Marcel was a fan of that particular chaos. He wouldn’t be overly radical to his ideas like Magneto and the Brotherhood itself were, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t like to get a little physical against the likes of practically racist bastards. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being a mutant as Storm taught him and nothing wrong with being gay as Iceman taught. This red-skinned male just happened to hit a few person spots that Marcel happened to like, but whether Clay actually leaned that way or not was beyond him. The Hydrokinetic just knew if someone looked attractive, he was totally going to flirt and probably bat a wink.

“But hey,” he continued. “I just so happen to have a discount on protecting tall, crimson and gorgeous men.”


If he wasn’t so busy, Iceman would have cracked a chortle aloud. Marcel used to be a practically timid male, but now he was properly confident in himself as a person and as a mutant. Oh, how they grew up fast. Bobby cleared his throat as the jet landed however, ready to speak up. “We’ve landed everyone. From here on out, from shouting to using the comm link, code names only.”

Marcel glanced at the red skinned male, extended a gloved hand towards him. “Put it there. I’m Monsoon.”