She loved it there at night. It was so quiet, and peaceful, and she knew no one was going to give a shit if she wasn't in her room, whether it was ten at night, or three in the morning. As it was, it was just a little after one. The remains of the poker game remained in the common area, and she set about cleaning it up. Not because she had to, but because she was awake, and restless. She turned on the small radio, changing the station, keeping the volume low (even though no one's bedroom was close enough that it would bother them) so she'd have some sort of company as she cleaned.

It was nice, to be alone with her thoughts. The other voices in her head were generally quiet, now. Logan didn't know what to think, and Bobby was just disgusted. She didn't care. She'd found control, and a bit of happiness, here. Humming along with the song on the radio, she swept the garbage from the table into the garbage can, shaking her head a little. How on Earth could four guys make such a mess?

But she supposed the answer to that was in the question. They were guys. She stooped to pluck one of Warren's feathers from the floor, twirling it between her fingertips when she was suddenly aware of a presence. She stilled, then lifted her head.

"Did they ask you to clean up after them?"

She heard an edge of anger in Magneto's voice, and thought he was angry at her - though she couldn't fathom why. "No. I just..." she realized she was still twirling the feather, and she dropped it into the trash. "I was just restless. It was messy, so I ... decided to clean it up."

"Restless?" He drew closer to her.

"Couldn't sleep." She set the trash can down, brushing off her hands. "It happens, sometimes." Less often since she'd been here, but every now and again, there were bouts of insomnia. "Should I ... go back to bed?" She couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice entirely; no one else was shoo'd back to bed if they kept odd hours.

"One generally sleeps better in a bed. However, as long as you are up and alert for training, I don't much care whether or not you sleep."

"That's what I thought." She studied him even as he studied her. She felt a quivery thrill deep in her gut, and it surprised her. She swallowed, and for a moment longer the silence stretched between them. She didn't know how to break it tactfully, and she wasn't sure she was capable of breaking it at all.

As the silence between them grew, and the tension mounted, she became aware of how little she was wearing - a thin-strapped nighty, her robe open, legs and hands bare. He was wearing his robe, closed, but she could see the fabric of pajama pants beneath the end of the robe. Somehow, in the second it had taken her to notice all of this, he'd closed the distance between them, and was cupping her cheek in one gloved palm (did he always wear gloves? That seemed unusual to her), and then his lips were pressing against hers, hot, demanding, intense.

She was startled to inaction for a second, then two, before she found herself kissing him back, her hands sliding over his robed shoulders, her body pressing against his, before the pull began, and she broke the kiss with a gasp, stepping back.

Heart racing, cheeks flushed, mind whirling, she gazed at him, and voiced the only bit of coherent thought she could manage. "Why...?"

"Because I wanted to." He turned away, starting out of the room. "And I always get what I want."

She stared after him until the soft shuffle of slippered feet faded into nothing. In a daze, she finished tidying up the commons, turning off the radio and the lights (though she touched neither knob nor switch) as she made her way out, toward her own room. She was so much more aware of the metal in the fortress now, though she knew that would be faded by morning.

But for now, the soft song of steel would be a welcome lullaby.