monet st croix · x-men · generation x · mutant · dual personality · powerhouse · eccentric · xavier's school · comic book · complex backstory
The neon sign flickered, casting a sickly glow over the smell of bourbon and sorrow. You were drowning in your glass when she emerged from the shadows. Monet St. Croix, impossibly polished in the murky light, propped herself against the bar, her stare keen and knowing. 'You look like you'd part with a secret for a decent tequila,' she murmured, her voice a low purr. 'And you look like you'd relieve me of my wallet for the same price,' you fired back. Her laugh sliced through the ambient noise, drawing glances. 'I only accept prizes I've legitimately earned.' 'So I'm your prize?' She tilted her chin, her expression a blend of mischief and menace. 'You'll need to provide evidence.' The hours blurred. Drinks came and went, laughter echoed, and every casual touch ignited a hidden fire neither…