2010-09-11: A Familiarity of the Law

Players: Magneto and Rashmi

Magneto_icon.jpg Rashmi_icon.jpg

Summary: Magneto introduces Rashmi to Isabelle Lewis… and one of the more unsavory ways that anti-mutant bigotry raises its ugly head.

Date: Sept 11, 2010

Log Title: A Familiarity of the Law

Rating: PG-13

The Genoshan Embassy

An elegant building in a neo-Classical style, sitting on a whole block in the middle of Mutant Town. The front doors are open and there are people available to ask questions of, but the building is not, at this time, open for regular business.

Magneto sweeps into the intern office unannounced. "Miss Franklin. Excellent. I believe I have need of the assistance of a knowledgeable person with a familiarity of the law."

Rashmi blinks, head popping up from behind what could almost be termed a paperwork-fort that has grown around her side of the desk, eyes widening briefly. "Um… What? Er… just a second…" Dropping back down behind the fort, there's the rustle of papers being organized in a hurry, a few folders snatched from the top of the stacks. After a few moments, she stands, hanging-file stuffed full of paperwork. "Sorry… um… I think we've got most of the projections your people put together for medical aid. Did you want those too, or should I just leave them on someone's desk?"

"Leave them for now. I need assistance right now, and projections can be dealt with later." Magneto is decidedly grim. "Come." He leaves, cloak billowing behind him. He doesn't question that the girl is following him. Very few people test his temper when he is wearing that particular expression, after all.

The folder is left on the desk, Rashmi's footfalls audible as she hurries to catch up with the elder mutant. "Right… sorry. So um… what's the matter, sir? I mean I've only just started school, I'm not *really* sure how much help I can be…"

Once out of the intern office, Rashmi can probably hear at least part of the problem; someone is screaming in the main lobby, angry words echoing off metal walls. Magneto leads the way to the top of the stairs. "We appear to have a refugee claim combined with an emancipation plea. I have probably committed assault," and here she can hear the smile in his voice. "But that's minor, and likely defensible, given the diplomatic nature of this establishment." He gestures down the stairs. "The young Miss Lewis, and her parents, Dr. and Dr. Lewis."

Down in the lobby, a young girl crouches on the stairs, screaming curses and crying. Facing her, two well-dressed professional types, who are standing behind a barred wall that wasn't there when Rashmi arrived in the afternoon. The man is in the open door to the street, talking on a cell phone; the woman is talking to the girl in a tone too low to hear her words.

The tone of amusement as Magneto describes his possible assault gains him a (very) brief glare, but as it's neither polite to call one's employer on the carpet, nor wise to call *Magneto* on the carpet, she says nothing. As they enter the lobby, she draws back, looking from the girl to the Doctors, the bars, then back at Magneto. "Um… okay…" Clearing her throat, she advances, pitching her voice to be heard over the general commotion. "Excuse me? Excuse me! Could somebody explain what's going on?" There's a brief flicker of emphazised patience on her face, for she knows well the furious babble that'll greet her question at first. But, so these things go, and it must be admitted that a young Hindi redhead in business casual strikes a much less imposing figure than the Master of Magnetism.

Said Master of Magnetism is following in her wake, however, so there is plenty of imposing happening, nonetheless. He takes up a cross-armed position halfway up the stairs where he can view the proceedings.

Babbling happens! At high volume! The girl is screaming something about guinea pigs and jerks, the man is threatening multiple high-dollar lawsuits *RIGHT NOW* against Genosha, the embassy, Magneto, Rashmi, and mutantkind in general. The woman gives Rashmi a freezing glare. "You have stolen our daughter and we demand her back!"

Rashmi's eyes close as the tide of fury washes over her, drawing in a deep breath. Making her way down the stairs, looking from girl to man to woman, she crouches down near the girl, one hand up in a calming gesture. "Okay… Okay just… oh, for…" Standing, her spheres all but blink into view, spinning one overhead and arcing out, smacking against the bars far out on either end of the room at speed, creating a reverating *BONG* that cuts through the shouting. "All *right!* I *get it,* everyone's furious!" Huffing, she shakes her head, spheres fading away. "Okay, can we just take it easy a little, one at a time? Miss? What are you talking about guinea pigs?"

White teeth flash in Magneto's face at the BONG. He still says nothing.

The girl shrieks at the sound and bats in Rashmi's direction with both hands. "Them! Me! That's what it's all about!" She bursts into fresh tears. "They want to maim me!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Isabelle. We love you. We want to cure you." Mrs. Dr. Lewis turns her attention to Rashmi and her voice positively drips icicles. "Isabelle is twelve years old. She is a minor child who requires parental permission to even SPEAK to the likes of you… which she does not have. Release her at once!"

Behind her, Mr. Dr. Lewis covers his cell phone with a hand. "Lawyers are on the way!"

Rashmi crouches back down as the girl bursts into tears, a gentle hand resting on the girl's shoulder. "Hey… hush, it's okay, miss. It's okay." Looking up over the sobbing girl, she turns the Look of Infinite Patience upon the adults, a small line forming between her eyebrows. "She's asking for asylum and emancipation, Sir, Ma'am… unless it would directly cause an international incident between Genosha and the US, there's nothing really stopping Mr. Magneto from granting it, you know…" She falls silent for a moment, looking at the bars, then over her shoulder. "If we could sit down and talk this out like civilized people, sir, would you be okay taking the bars down?"

"She is not emancipated! She is not a refugee! She is my daughter and you will return her or I will have your house and your money and your LIFE and I will make them HELL!" Mrs. Dr. Lewis pounds on the bars of the wall. Mr. Dr. Lewis joins in, with similar threats, embroidering them with secondary punishments, cutting personal assessments, and uncomplimentary comparisons to unpleasant people. Through it all, both deny Isabelle's right to ask for asylum or 'that hoodlum' (to use one of the milder assessments) Magneto's right to grant it, to her or to anyone.

Magneto says, "Asylum granted. Given the age of the claimant, she is placed into ward status until an appropriate hearing regarding her request for emancipation can be examined. I shall personally stand as her guardian until that can be accomplished." Smile.

Decibels and outrage from the doctors increase. Isabelle looks up, past Rashmi's shoulder, and goes white. "Is… is that *Magneto*?!" Her fingers grip Rashmi's arm, nails digging in.

Rashmi sighs, closing her eyes. "Yes, honey, that's Magneto. Yes, I know what you're thinking. No, he's not going to hurt you or your parents, I promise. Now…" Looking up, she waits for the parents to yell themselves hoarse, or for a lull in the stream of obscenity, whichever might happen to come first. "*Since* your daughter is only twelve, Doctors, and there has to be a *hearing* to determine if she can actually be emancipated, we *could* settle all this with a simple *conversation,* okay? If you just *explain* what you were talking about by a cure, and why she's so afraid, I'm sure we'd all find a solution *everybody* can live with a lot better, all right?"

The parents now lay into Rashmi's personal habits, hygeine, and parentage, as well that she is clearly both a co-conspirator with the terrorist Magneto as well as hopelessly under his thrall and incapable of understanding her own actions, nor of the dire consequences to herself if she continues on this illegal, immoral, and unethical path.

Isabelle looks up into Rashmi's face. "I make things glow. They want to take that away! With tests and needles and … exercises!" She screams and whips around. "I hate you! I hate you both and I never want to see you again!"

Rashmi rises, eyes narrowing slightly as the invective becomes personal. A hand comes down to rest on the girl's shoulder, the gentle patience slowly bleeding from her features. "…Sir, Ma'am, if you do not cease this *childish* tantrum *this minute,* I will ask the Genoshan Ambassador to the United States to consider any legal action levied against my person or my workplace tantamount to hate crime." Her voice is not precisely cold, but there is steel there behind the wamrth, a sense of last chances bid farewell. "I'm offering you the chance to have your grievances heard in a fair and impartial manner. I'm offering you the possibility of making your daughter understand your position, and vice versa. I'm *asking* that you act like the adults you're supposed to be, and this is your response?"

"Filthy mutant. You're not even human." Mrs. Dr. Lewis brushes Rashmi's words aside. "Genosha… pah! A filthy little mudhole, a cesspit. Isabelle! You will come out of there this instant, young lady! You are grounded for the next month, do you hear me!"

Isabelle turns her back on her parents and crosses her arms, looking mulish. "You're not human, but I am? Only because SHE's my mother. AAAAAAGH!" She starts pounding her fists on the steps. "I hate this I hate this I HATE THIS!"

Magneto looks amused. "Madame. Sir. Remove yourselves from these premises, or you will be removed. You will be sent a notice of the emancipation hearing, but if your behavior continues to be this… unacceptable… you will not be allowed to attend." He pauses at a fresh caterwauling. "You have two minutes to remove yourselves."

Rashmi's eyes widen sharply at the insinuation, but if a line has been crossed, it doesn't show on her face. Taking hold of Miss Lewis' hand before it can strike the steps again, she shakes her head. "It's okay, honey… C'mon. They can come back and talk after they've cooled down. I'm sure they're very nice people, they just don't understand what they're doing to you." Leading the girl up the stairs, she looks to Magneto, deeply conflicted at the idea of removing a young girl from her parents. "Why don't we go to the kitchens, and we get a snack and you show me how your power works, okay?"

Magneto watches Rashmi and Isabelle approach up the stairs. Behind them, the screeching goes up a couple more decibels, though not from anger this time; it's from fear. The barred wall is contracting, pushing the two doctors Lewis out.

Isabelle turns to stick out her tongue at them, and makes a happy noise at seeing her parents discommoded. "You deserve that!" she shouts at them, climbing the stairs backward. "You creeps!"

Rashmi pauses, a look of deep sorrow on her face as the adults are pushed from the Embassy. "Sir," she murmurs at Magneto's side, "I think it'd be a good idea to talk to her about this cure she was talking about, and get Child Welfare on the phone as soon as possible. I don't like the idea of taking her away without making every effort to see it's the best idea. …And if it is, Xavier's is much better able to help her the way she needs, in-country."

Magneto looks up to watch the Lewises disappear through the front doors and the doors close behind them. Fists start pounding on them from the outside. "Miss Franklin. I think that your ideas are good, but I do warn you that they are not, at present, actionable. I remind you that this is the Genoshan embassy, that it is not officially open yet, and that we do not have a working office of Child Services here at this time." He regards her calmly. "This is why I have taken her as a personal ward. I would suggest that you get a report on this written as soon as possible, however, so that we may be clear what this young lady's wishes are at this time."

Rashmi nods slowly, closing her her eyes and sighing softly. "All right…" Turning to look down at the girl, she crouches to meet her at eye-level. "Sorry," she says gently, "I don't think I've introduced myself. I'm Rashmi Franklin, what's your name?"

Isabelle peers up at Magneto distrustfully, then answers Rashmi. "I'm Isabelle. Isabelle Lewis." A wave of revulsion crosses her face. "No! I'm Isabelle Nobody!" Fresh tears and screaming. Evidently, loud hysterics are a family trait. "Nobody! I'm just Isabelle!" She makes fists and tries to pound something. The nearest object is Rashmi. "I hate them! I never want to see them again!"

Over her head, Magneto tries to catch Rashmi's eye. "A common reaction under these sorts of circumstance. Not necessarily a permanent one." Hint hint; he needs that report. Plausible deniability, if nothing else. "A visit to the kitchens, as you mentioned earlier, is also a good idea. Shall we?" He'll lead the way up the stairs.

Twelve-year old fists, especially driven by hysterics, fortunately not particularly worrisome, and for a short while Rashmi seems amenable to letting the girl pound on her a bit. "Okay… kitchens. C'mon, Isabelle… let's get you that snack, okay? Afterwards I'm going to need to talk to you a bit, but for right now it's okay, all right? You're going to be just fine."

A trip to the kitchens quiets the hysterics a bit. They still crop up at odd moments—usually when the words 'mother', 'father', or 'cure' are mentioned. It seems that (after sifting a lot of emotional chaff) the Lewises are both medical doctors; she's a dermatologist, he's an endocrinologist. Both disbelieve in mutancy as a genetic condition; Isabelle claims that they believe it's all hormones and that finding out what's wrong with hers will make her abilities disappear. You know, make her normal.

'Normal' for Isabelle appears to include the ability to make things glow. Just glow; if she can do anything else, it isn't evident. Shortly after, a large number of objects in the kitchen are glowing—silverware, glasses, a countertop, Rashmi's blouse. Isabelle is smug with the results.

Rashmi listens carefully, filing the nuggets of information away to set down properly in the report later on. The glowing objects, received with quiet amusement, along with an off-handed question about how long the glow lasts, but overall Rashmi attempts to be as pleasant as humanly possible, putting her own poers on display for the girl as she works up the outline to the report on her PDA. Faintly glowing orbs of pure telekinetic force, swirling and weaving in patterns that vary from moment to moment, describing complex 3-D spirographs. In another page, she starts compiling a to-do list of subjects to research; chief among them, to find out what companies the Lewises work for, and whether FDA approval for human testing has been granted for such an experimental regimen.

Isabelle tries to make the orbs glow brighter; there is no discernible effect, which disappoints her. It sets off another round of growly anger, mostly accusing her parents of damaging her powers.

The research produces nothing of consequence regarding the Lewises; neither is a research doctor, and neither has any publications. Both are in private practice, and both have privileges to the same Catholic hospital. That hospital is not a research hospital, although it could be conducting clinical trials that are not in the public lists.

Isabelle is listed as having been in a good private school for some years; she did not return to it this year, in favor of homeschooling.

Rashmi looks up from her work, chuckling. "Actually, it's mostly because they're not really actual things. You've heard of mutants who can move things with their mind, right? Well, it's kind of like that, but different." Looking down at the fruites of her research, she frowns somewhat. "Isabell… did they already give you any sort of shots before you came here…?"

"Of course they did! It hurt! Why do you think I ran away?" Isabelle is exasperated. "Stupid." Sulky now. "It hurt a lot. I threw up." She makes a face, and she makes another glass glow. The effect lasts about two minutes, or until Isabelle is distracted by something else, whichever is shorter. "And they've taken me out of school. That isn't fair! I don't have any friends now."

Rashmi draws in a deep breath, visibly upset by this revelation. "Isabelle, honey, I have to ask these questions because it's important, okay? And don't worry… Once we've figured out how we can help you, we'll do everything we can to see that you have friends. I know how scary it can be, trust me…" A deep, steadying breath, and she asks the question she'd likely prefer not ever having to ask, ever. "When was the last time they gave you a shot?"

Isabelle pounds a fist on the counter. "Last night. Or maybe the night before. I threw up. A lot." A scream of rage and she sweeps glowing glasses off the counter; they shatter into glowing shards on the floor. "I don't know why I have to hurt! I don't want to hurt! My friends at school thought it was cool when I made stuff glow!"

"Honey," Rashmi says quietly, urgently, taking hold of Isabelle's hands, ducking her head to look into the girl's eyes. "Look at me. You *don't* have to hurt, okay? It wasn't right that they made you hurt, but I *promise* you won't have to go through that anymore, all right? I *promise.*"

Isabelle lets Rashmi hold her hands for a long moment, searching her face. Then she shoves the older girl, hard. "People lie when they say that! None of you know what a promise is!" She runs out of the kitchen, past Magneto, who makes not move to stop her… but who will move to stop Rashmi.

Rashmi does indeed attempt to chase after the child, skidding to a halt as Magneto moves to block her path. "….Please let me by, sir." The request, polite, respectful, but not a question in the slightest.

"Miss Franklin. A moment of your time, and then, of course, you may follow as you will." Magneto crosses his arms. "Give me your honest opinion: is this child going to be worth the trouble of an international incident on the level of Elian Gonzalez? And, given the chemical interference she has been experiencing, how likely do you believe it that she will maintain her willingness to take refuge here?" He tips his head toward the young, wannabe lawyer. "The public reaction if a twelve-year-old claims that she was just mad and now wants to go home…"

Rashmi does follow, pursing her lips and lowering her head, thoughts whirling. "I don't think it's work risking an incident, no. But that doesn't mean we can't do *anything* about this; she claims she's been given drugs—*hormone* therapy," she says, correcting herself for the sake of veracity. "If she changes her mind, it could be very bad, yeah… But if she agreed to getting blood work done, we could still make a case for CPS to investigate. ….Honestly, sir? I'm *scared* for her. If we don't try, and she ends up just going back home, and her father *is* using his daughter to prove a theory that is patently untrue… Then whatever harm comes to her, we'd be responsible for."

Magneto looks away in the direction Isabelle ran off. "I doubt that she will be happy or cooperative regarding any blood work. Do you think you can handle obtaining the required samples? I can manage once you have." He glances back at Rashmi. "And I do not think Dr. Lewis is alone in his activities. Her professional abilities may not mesh well with this sort of research, but from her behavior? I believe she is in complete agreement with everything done, and supports it however she may. This is not an easy situation in any way."

"No," Rashmi murmurs, "no it's not. But something *has* to be done. And I'm pretty sure they're together on it, and probably I can even guess why." The redhead sighs quietly, a line forming between her eyebrows. "You know, there're still Church retreats to cure homosexuality? It's stupid, of course, and basically it's Church-sanctioned brainwashing and only the *seriously* wacko people think it's anything like a good idea… But even then, some parents just can't seem to make sense for how things work, and do everything wrong with all kinds of good intentions." Rashmi pauses here, thoughts flickering behind her eyes, and she nods decisively. "I know what to do. Maybe even help prove to her parents how wrong they are. …I'll talk to Ms. Walters tomorrow at lunch."

Magneto lifts one of those silver brows. He isn't unaware of Rashmi's own religious adherence; to hear her speak against the Church, even obliquely, interests him. "I've seen the result of what happens when people build walls around their willingness to understand. It's one of the attitudes I fight against." And never mind his own walls. They're there; he knows them well. "Good intentions have never been enough, and should never be enough. Deeds matter, Miss Franklin. Ultimately, deeds are the only things that can matter."

Another glance in Isabelle's direction. "You'll find her in the solarium, on the third floor. I think she is trying to kick the planters apart. She isn't getting very far."

"Then we just have to make sure that what we do is the *right* thing," Rashmi replies, nodding at the directions given. "I'll see how I can help her, tonight, and get that report done; even if I have to do it at my dorm and email it to you." With that, she hurries up to the third floor, pushing open the solarium door and knocking, not entering yet.

Rashmi is in for a screaming evening, which gets gradually weepier, and the solarium will be glowing in various places and colors before very long, as Isabelle works through cresting waves of rage, terror, and frustration, with occaisional bouts of accusation to make things interesting. Magneto will send round a house staffer to ask if she needs anything—and to ask if she has those blood samples…?

The answer to the second question, naturally in the negative; she's a wannabe lawyer, not a wannabe doctor or even med tech. The hysterics, borne with the patience and equanimity of one familiar with such episodes, and at every step she merely offers comfort, support, and understanding. Once the girl has worn herself out against the bulwark of her own anger, however, she does note that what her parents did could get them into a great deal of trouble; enough that perhaps even the government would refuse to let her suffer another moment of their experimental treatments.

"But there has to be proof," she says at the end of it, sitting in front of the girl to put her below eye level. "And we can give them that proof, too, and proof that your dad's thinking was completely wrong."

Isabelle is beginning to waver in her resolve to hate her parents forever. Blood tests, however, get her back up; that's what she ran away from home to avoid! She will, however, eventually offer a compromise that as a daughter of doctors, she actually thinks might work: she'll pee in a cup. Is that good enough?

"I don't know," Rashmi says honestly. "Maybe. For hormones, it could help. But you're not going to be the only one getting the blood test, honey. I am too."

"If," she's careful to point out, "you say okay."

"You are?! But why? Is someone experimenting on you?" Sudden panic, as Isabelle puts two and two together and comes up with -13.938 to the 25th power. "It's Magneto, isn't he? He's going to kill us all! That's what my Mom says he'll do, if they let him stay in this country! It's what he always does!"

Rashmi bites down on her smile; laughing in the girl's face would do no good whatsoever. "No no no, Isabelle, that's not it at all. See, it's like this; your dad thinks mutants have weird hormones, right? And it's not just our genes?"

Instant pout. "My dad sucks." Isabelle crosses her arms. "And you didn't answer me!"

Rashmi smiles. "I'm *trying* to answer you. But I have to explain, so you understand *why.* See… If that's what your dad thinks, then I can prove it's wrong; all we need to do is show him in a way he can't argue; by showing him what the genes of a mutant look like, and how they're different from a regular person's. That's why *I'll* have blood drawn. Why we want your sample, is so someone knows *what* kind of shots he was giving you, and what they might actually be doing to you."

"But I hate needles!" Isabelle flings herself across the room to sulk against the far wall, face turned away from Rashmi. "They hurt! And it's just more experiments, and I hate experiments! I'll throw up!"

Rashmi takes in a deep breath. "Isabelle… No experiments. I know I was promising stuff that I shouldn't have before, because it was too big, and I'm sorry. But I *can* tell you that. There won't be any experiments. And you know… I hate needles too. They poke, and that bump they leave behind is sore and itchy and it's like it won't go away all day."

Isabelle plops herself down against the far wall and wraps her arms around herself. Her eyes peer out from under her untidy hair. "See? Tolja you don't know what a promise is." She sniffles into her knees. "I don't wanna get poked."

Rashmi makes her way over, sliding down the wall next to the girl. "I know… just… Look, Isabelle. I'm scared for you. I don't want you to have to go through any more experiments, ever, and it scares me that people think it's okay to do that. I want you to have a chance at being happy again, you know? And I know it sounds weird, but, so does Magneto. He's really scary, I know, but he thinks your parents are wrong. That's why he's doing all this; because even if he *can't* give you asylum, he's trying to give us time to get you real help. And *I* think the best way we can do that, is by showing another doctor what shots you've had."

Isabelle hides her face in her knees. "I'm sick of doctors." She comes up long enough to scrub both cheeks with her fists. "How much do you want? How long will it take? I don't want to throw up again!"

Rashmi sighs, gently rubbing Isabelle's back. "Not much, sweetie… Just a little from each of us, and no throwing up. Then we'll find a bed for you, okay?" The house staff is signaled for, a discreet inquiry if a nurse is on hand.

Yes, a nurse is available, and he arrives quickly and cheerfully. He'll distract Isabelle rather wellbeing purple with lines of green and orange spots will do that. He gets the blood drawn quickly and with relatively little fussIsabelle even pronounces him 'better' at it, since it causes her less pain. She's still grumpy and unhappy when he leaves.

She's even grumpier when ten minutes later, she starts to throw up. And throw up, and throw up. "You lied to me again!"

"I didn't lie!" Rashmi insists, holding Isabelle's hair away from the toilet. "I don't know what's happening to you, Isabelle, but I *know* it wasn't because of the needle, unless it's nerves…"

It isn't nerves. It is severe metabolic imbalance, in part caused by artificial hormones, and in part by poisons building up in Isabelle's system. She's on the edge of multiple organ failure, a fact which Rashmi is made aware of when half an hour after the initial test it taken, half a dozen nurses descend on Isabelle and carry her off to the medical facility, on Magneto's orders. He'll meet her at the door to the unit; inside, Isabelle is wailing, and calling for her mother.

He looks away from the scene to Rashmi. "She might not survive." Blunt as ever. "And if she does not, she will become a martyr to her parents' cause. She will be a martyr to that cause in any case, but dead martyrs speak more loudly to the closed minds of bigots than anyone else can."

The news hits Rashmi like nothing else to date has, her face ashen, the shock causing her to sway on her feet. There's a moment's pause, and she shakes her head. "No," she says softly. "No, she won't." The PDA comes out of the bag at her hip, finger jabbing at icons on the screen. "Connor gave me a *really* nice graduation present," she murmurs. "E-reader, organizer, word processor… and dictation programs." One more jab, and the beginning of the first interview is heard from the computer's speaker, the one where the treatments were first mentioned in detail.

Magneto listens. "I'll send some people to your office to do transcription. I've already called a major New York law firm to put a public gag order on Isabelle's identity, 'for her privacy'. This may not be enough, but if she survives, I think she will appreciate it. It will be a start to a better life for her, and I believe your intention to involve Miss Walters is an intelligent one. Do you know what time she is likely to be in her office?"

"The law firm opens at seven. I can't get involved in the case, I'm a witness. I'll email you the file with my report tonight." The redhead rakes a hand through her hair, trembling from a maelstrom of emotions; grief and anger, certainly, high among them. "…And if she can just hold out until tomorrow… I *might* know someone who can save her. It's an outside chance, but I'm not done trying to help until there's nothing left to do."

Magneto nods regarding the report and glances toward the medical suite. Isabelle's voice has silenced, and all those people are working feverishly. "I am doing all I can… and I can do quite a lot." He looks back to Rashmi. "Thank you for trying so hard, Miss Franklin. If she lives, she will owe you her life."

Rashmi closes her eyes for a moment, looking toward the medical suite as well. "…It never should have happened, Magneto. God willing, it'll never happen again—" here she cuts off, biting her lower lip. "As long as she pulls through, I'll be happy. I don't care about who owes what."

You say, "Should is a hope for past events, not a prognotication on them. I prefer to look forward." He frowns and his eyes go unfocused for a moment. Then he's back, and smiling. "Do get some sleep tonight. You'll need it… and so will she.""

Rashmi nods, a finger rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Once I'm done doing everything I need, I'll try. Um… So I guess I may as well warn you in advance; if I can manage it, the medic at my school has some kind of magical thing to do with the Living Light. So don't be surprised if a guy with a bunch of white tattoos shows up here tomorrow asking after Isabelle."

Magneto nods. "Leave his name and description with security, and there should be no problem. I would prefer Isabelle alive and shrieking." Small, mirthless smile. "Even if I would prefer not to have to listen to her."

Rashmi nods again, a small, warm smile touching her face. "Maybe she's a little shrill… But if not for tonight, nobody would ever have known what her parents were doing, Magneto." The PDA is put away, the strap of her bookbag adjusted slightly. "If she survives… she has *you* to thank, not me. Without this Embassy, the truth would never have come out." The medical wing is given one last glance, and she turns to leave. "And for me… thank you for letting me make a difference."

Magneto smirks. "Miss Franklin… I doubt very much that I 'let' you do that. You make a difference just being you." A bow of his head. "Have a good evening… or at least, may the rest of this one be an improvement." Still smiling, he takes his own leave.

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