Neon Hearts, Chapter 37A
Hi all! Well, after various hair-raising (and -pulling) adventures I am back on course with the reposting of Neon Hearts, working my way up to posting the new chapter (#41) when I get caught up. I was thinking the new one is the longest I've written so far, until I started getting this baby ready to post. Then I realized it wasn't even close. Chapter 37 will probably remain about a third again as big. You might want to slouch back and get comfortable! :)

***
The following chapter was an experiment, brought about by my fear of wildly screwing up Brit-type dialogue. Ian Phil Pinta Scrumpy Foster very kindly agreed to co-write this Excalibur extravaganza with me. (And I hope it didn't put him off joint projects for life!)

New Year's Resolution: Not to forget to mention the Marvel copyright thingie in 1997!

(2006 note: Back when this was coming out on the email list Outside the Lines, I was hesitant to post anything really large because it screwed up some people's browsers and systems. This was posted as a three-parter for that reason, and I left it as is for this modern repost.)

And now a word from Phil:

Well here it is at last, for those of you who've been eagerly awaiting this chapter since...oh whenever it was we first promised it. =) Apologies to those of you who are Douglock and Rory fans - there just wasn't any room....

Most kudos go to Susan, who not only did a fair chunk of the writing, but did most of the editing and re-writing as well. (What *is* a kudo, anyway?). Any complaints about Excal dialogue come to me - and I'm English so I *know* Pete's dialogue is fine *grin*; and while there're no prizes for the first person to solve the mystery, I'd be interested to know just how long it took you to work it out.

Enjoy!


"It almost seems like we're standing still!" Cassie was leaning up and forward, half out of her seat, face pressed to the glass of the Blackbird's canopy. The blue-green expanse of ocean far below them looked surreal, suspended in time. The glossy billows that would turn to waves near land were here slowed to near-immobility by their own mass, each ponderously heaving into the space vacated by the one before as they blindly followed their mother the moon.

Cassie dropped back into the co-pilot's chair from where she was doing absolutely nothing whatsoever, and beamed at Hank. "This is so fun! Going off for a little ride, just you and me! It's like...like...."

"Like the good old days?" Hank offered, and she laughed.

"The good old days of last week!" She swiveled her chair, laced her fingers behind her neck, and leaned back, the seat obediently reclining at her mere suggestion. "So much has happened so fast."

"Do you regret it?" Hank asked, keeping his eyes on the controls as he tried very hard to sound casual.

"No!"

Her clear astonishment that Hank could even consider such an idea made him shrug an instant apology, but also let out a secret internal sigh of relief. "I know some things have been...upsetting to you," was all he said, by way of explanation.

"A little," Cassie admitted. "But...I'd be miserable all by myself back home. I know I would."

This was exactly what Hank wanted to hear, but somehow it didn't seem quite apropos to say so. "And you'd be missing this chance for a free trans-Atlantic vacation!"

"I've probably never flown this fast before," Cassie said, her thoughts returning to her awe of the advanced technological splendor surrounding them.

Hank's thoughts had been distracted in a different direction. "Want to join the Mach 2 club?" he asked with his most charming leer.

"What's that?"

"Kind of like the Mile High Club, only for more...accomplished fliers." His grin widened as he patted his lap. "Come sit over here and I'll...explain it to you."

"Well...you did say this plane could pretty much fly itself," Cassie conceded, moving over to the position suggested, displaying a slightly wicked smile of her own.

"I did, and it can." This last came out a bit muffled, since Hank was now nuzzling the back of Cassie's neck.

"Are we really--ahh!--going...." Cassie's voice trailed off as she temporarily lost her train of thought.

"Hmmmmmmm?"

"Going Mach 2?"

"Does it matter?"

"No."

***
Quite a while later, Hank idly glanced over the control panel readouts, which winked back at him like cheerful partners in crime. Everything, himself included, seemed to be in tune with the universe, which seemed strange considering how shamelessly he was indulging in guilty pleasures. Cassie was sprawled in a cozy and most unladylike manner across his chest, her head snuggled up under his chin. Hank stroked a hand down her bare thigh, considering with a secret smile how shocked his teammates would be if they could see him now, and for more reasons than the obvious one. Hank, the official X-Men stick-in- the-mud about no flying without a back-up pilot, no fooling around--so to speak--at the controls, and especially no letting the auto-pilot run without safety checks except in emergency situations....

"How long until we land at...at...that place where you have to help fix the computers?" Cassie murmured into Hank's chest fur.

"Oh, roughly half an hour," he responded, after another quick glance at the instruments.

"I'll need to go...freshen up," she rather unnecessarily explained. "In a minute or two...."

Hank had every confidence in Cassie's ability to freshen up, as she put it, and emerge at their destination looking as chaste as if she'd just walked out of church services. It had helped him make his decision to entertain her in a way that would distract her from fretting about meeting yet another group of strangers. He also hoped that, being more relaxed now, she'd be less likely to become excessively distressed at the scene he suspected they'd see upon landing. Moira had waxed eloquently profane when describing the damage that had been done to the Muir Island facility the day before by a confused young mutant with frightening abilities.

When he first asked Cassie to come live with him, Hank had hoped to introduce her gradually to some of the more upsetting realities of life amongst the mutants. That plan had not been entirely successful. Now he was leaning more towards getting the worst over with as quickly as possible. Seeing this fresh destruction, but with the inhabitants taking it in stride, might be as good an example as he was likely to find for a while. And if she...became a little overwhelmed...it at least wouldn't be in front of certain people he was trying to convince about her ability to cope....

***
Three individuals stood at the home end of Muir Island's airstrip, watching the X-Men's Blackbird complete its landing protocols. The women's hair and the man's skinny black tie whipped back and forth like demented windsocks, as gusts off the North Sea competed with the blasts from the plane's powerful engines.

"Right, who knows any sick jokes about Beauty and the Beast, then?" Pete quipped, preparing himself in his own way for the encounter.

"If ye come out wi' any more 'o yuir so-called jokes I'll wire yuir mouth shut f'r a month!" Moira retorted, with a quite convincing glare of promised retribution for any sins Wisdom might be considering.

"Yer gettin' soft in your old age, Moira. Last time you tried to force-feed me some of your coffee."

Kitty quietly snorted as she hushed him up, and shrugged Lockheed's limp form a bit higher on her shoulder. Only her intense curiosity about the Beast's 'Beauty' had lured her out to be a part of the welcoming committee, with her little dragon not feeling well. "There's the hatch opening. Let's all go say hi."

Cassie and Hank waited until the landing platform was firmly in place, then started down its ramp. Cassie walked as close to Hank as was possible with him carrying all their luggage at once. The first thing to hit her was the cold breeze, carrying alien scents of saltwater and fishlike substances. The next thing that clamored for her attention was...destruction.

The building before them was clearly meant to have two matching wings coming off the futuristic-looking central structure. One was simply gone. Well, not gone. It was all still there, but in a vast number of jagged pieces, scattered like a mad puzzle kicked apart by a gigantic sulking child.

"Cassie?" Hank stopped and spoke over his shoulder, which jolted her out of her stunned astonishment.

'Just one person did all this?' she thought, with no small amount of alarm. No wonder everyone had been so instantly defensive when Joseph turned up at the mansion! "Coming," was all she said aloud, moving forward again.

There was a small group approaching from the direction of the ruins: a man in a dark suit who looked like the poster child for terminal cynicism; a woman with auburn hair, wearing glasses and a white lab coat; and a younger one carrying...something...partly over one shoulder. It was smaller than a baby, but bigger than a cat, and distinctly purple....

"Good of ye to come on such short notice, Hank," called the older woman cheerfully as she pulled ahead of the others. "Is this Cassie then?"

"It is indeed," Hank replied, setting down his collection of suitcases so he could unobtrusively let Cassie stand close to him during the introductions. "Cassie, this is Dr. Moira MacTaggert."

"Just call me Moira, there's a good lass." Cassie smiled shyly and nodded. "Welcome to Muir Island. Please excuse the look of the place--"

"Cleanin' woman's day off," inserted the man, earning himself a repressing look from the females on either side of him.

"This is Pete Wisdom," Moira said, with the grim look of someone who wonders why the Lord has chosen to afflict her so.

"Cigarette?" he asked Cassie, holding out a small and rumpled box of Silk Cut.

"Um...no. I don't smoke, sorry," Cassie answered, a bit taken aback.

"And if she did, Pete Wisdom, I'm sure she'd have the good manners to do it outside without whinin' about it--"

"I never whine!" "Oh, please," interrupted the other woman, her wide grin making it obvious she was in possession of much evidence to the contrary. Then she stepped forward a bit and held out the hand that wasn't securing her odd burden. "I'm Katherine Pryde; most people call me Kitty. Don't mind Pete and Moira--they just act this way so they won't have to face their true feelings and run off to Gretna Green together, leaving me a broken woman." This produced instant loud and appalled denials from both accused parties, which Kitty cheerfully ignored. "Nice to see you again, Hank." Cassie shook Kitty's hand while trying to stare unobtrusively at the purple...animal?

"A pleasure, as always, Kitty," Hank replied. With the exception of Pete Wisdom, who he understood was always an exception in matters like these, the first introductions were going very smoothly.

"And this is Lockheed," Kitty continued. At the sound of its name, the creature raised its head and turned it around very slowly and carefully.

Cassie gasped just a bit as she involuntarily stepped closer. "Is... is it really a dragon?" Not possible, part of her mind insisted. And yet...it had already become abundantly clear to her that all bets about reality were off if the X-men were in any way involved.

"Nah, it's just a flyin' rat with a smart mouth," Pete told her helpfully, and Lockheed hissed at him, then squeezed his little eyes shut as if in pain.

"He doesn't really talk--it's a game Pete plays," Kitty added. That worthy scowled and jammed his fists into the pockets of his coat, muttering black words the wind whipped away.

"He's a lovely color," Cassie said. "Is he friendly to strangers?" She had an almost overwhelming urge to stroke the leathers of the lavender wings.

"Not so's you'd notice," Pete said, just as Kitty said, "Mostly." Pete resumed his silence as Kitty continued, "He's not quite feeling himself today, is all."

"Oh, that's too bad." Cassie forced herself to pull her hand back. "It's a funny coincidence--I'm writing a book with a dragon in it at the moment."

"Storm told me you were a writer," Kitty said politely.

Cassie recognized the expression of someone who was not going to encourage a discussion of the subject, which was fine with her. But this was a detail Moira apparently hadn't heard. "A book about a dragon? Do ye write the fantasy stories, then?"

"Um--this is a little change of pace for me," Cassie murmured, glancing up at Hank for a hint as to how much to say. "I normally write romances," she admitted.

"Yer the next Barbara Cartland, are ya?" Wisdom inquired solemnly, but with an evil twinkle in his eyes, and Cassie could not entirely contain a wince.

"I wouldn't mind selling as many books as she has." This was her standard answer when someone compared her to more popular authors. It was her personal code not to stoop to criticizing fellow romance writers in public, even those whose works she thought were absolute swill for the vocabulary-challenged.

Hank was starting to look upon Wisdom with faintly narrowed eyes. But before relations could degenerate any further, there was a loud popping noise, a whiff of sulphur, and a new person walking towards the group with a loose, springy stride. "Am I late?"

Cassie's eyes widened at the sight of the newcomer. He was giddily, electrically blue, and covered in short dense fur, so that he looked like nothing so much as a brand new plush toy. But his smile was so broad and friendly that she could no more be afraid of him than... than Hank.

"We did start the introductions without you," Hank said. "Cassie, this is Kurt Wagner, a former X-man like Kitty."

"Hello," she said. "It's very nice to meet you."

Kurt swept low in a courtly bow over Cassie's hand, then kissed it. *Your most rapturously adoring servant, dear lady!* he said, gold eyes glowing with humor.

*I respectfully suggest you abate your adoration,* Hank replied in excellent German, which caused Cassie to look up at him with pleased astonishment. *You are speaking to a potentially married woman.*

"Ach, so?" Kurt's vulpine grin was nearly as wide as Hank's. *That's the way of it, then? Well, don't fret, my friend. I will not be wanting to have to explain myself to my dear Amanda, yes?*

The amiable conversation was suddenly cut short by a strangely biological gurgling sound. "Oh, Lockheed!" exclaimed Kitty. "You're not going to be sick again, are you?" A pair of droopy eyes squeezed out from the lump on her shoulder in response to its mistress' question. "Oh, dear. I'd better get you back to the total containment unit in the infirmary."

"Containment as in quarantine?" Hank queried. "Isn't that a little drastic?"

"Total containment as in fire-proof," Kitty explained. "Have you ever seen a fire-breathing dragon throwing up?" Carefully avoiding putting too much pressure on the little dragon's stomach, she carried him off, Pete in tow. The remaining four were amused to hear a comment blow back to them on the wind. "Y'know, Pete, you getting in trouble with people's huge boyfriends is getting to be a habit."

"Oh, the poor thing," exclaimed Cassie as she watched them go. "Have you any idea what's wrong with him?"

"Not really, lass," replied Moira. "Although he's nae been the same since young Nate's outburst, so I can only think that has something to do with his behavior."

"Does he have any other symptoms?" Hank asked, his scientific curiosity intrigued by the thought of an alien illness.

"Aye, I'll say! Flying around like a bloody great rocket, f'r one thing. He nearly had me over last night. But it was something Kurt saw that really makes me worry aboot him."

"Ja, that's right," Kurt nodded, pausing in his task of helping Hank gather up their luggage once again. "I found Lockheed fast asleep last night in front of the television, apparently exhausted after his sudden burst of energy. However, it was in that room that Pete had also fallen asleep, and not only was Lockheed sleeping in the same room, but he was actually sleeping on Pete's lap!"

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," Hank queried as the foursome set off. "Is that an unusual occurrence?"

"Lockheed holds Pete in about as high a regard as Moira does."

"Oh...."

It only took a few paces for the group to round a corner of the building, allowing them to see much of the inside. Glancing round at the piles of rubble and machinery, Cassie was stopped dead in her tracks by the sight before her.

"Oh, wow!" She nearly squealed in delight as she saw a huge man effortlessly lifting a chunk of concrete that must have been the size of a small house. As he turned, she saw small glints of light reflecting off of his...clothes? Unsure, she peered closer, and thought she could make out some sort of armor. 'That's odd,' she thought. 'Why would he be wearing armor?' Though the weather was hardly what she would call hot, he must still be getting overheated with all the work he was doing.

By now he had moved the large chunk clear of the building. Cassie was transfixed, fascinated by the ease with which he carried the huge mass. She was expecting him to carry it off and put it down somewhere, so she was surprised when he merely stood where he was and threw the lump straight into the air above him.

Her questions were answered when another man appeared, floating high in the air. He caught the fast moving lump of concrete with one hand and casually flew off with it in tow, unaware of Cassie's eyes fixed on him for as long as she could see him. A sight like this was impressive at any time, but she could remember her reaction to being taken on a comparatively easy flight with Rogue back at the mansion, and she found it almost impossible to imagine how anyone could make such a feat look so easy.

"Cassie?" Hank was unable to keep himself from grinning at the open- mouthed look on her face.

"Oh, yes. Sorry." With one more backward glance at the activity over to her left, she followed them into the building.

***
Piotr turned to briefly watch the small group leaving the devastated area. He had managed to avoid meeting Hank when they had arrived, by claiming that there was too much clearing up to do, and that he would go and see him later in the evening. Moira had kindly not challenged the lie, understanding his reasons.

He knew Hank would have heard about what happened when he had arrived on the Isle, how he had nearly beaten Pete Wisdom to death, driven by a mad jealousy after seeing Kitty in someone else's arms. He had never been particularly close to Hank, neither of them having been on the same team for very long, but he still had a great deal of respect for the Beast, and was not looking forward to having to face him this evening.

He still had difficulty facing the rest of Excalibur as yet--only Kurt had really taken the time to talk to him about the incident--and seeing Hank arrive a few minutes ago had reminded him that sometime he would have to face the rest of the X-men back home, and explain to them exactly what had happened.

Walking over to a large lump of metal blocking the entrance to one of the storage sheds, he went back to losing himself in physical exertion. He looked at the shape, judging the size and weight of the metal, and took hold of a large piece jutting out, getting his arms far underneath to give himself more leverage.

He enjoyed the work; he had always found peace in hard labor ever since he was a young boy working on his parents' farm back in the Motherland. Standing in a field forcing stakes into the ground to build a fence, or pulling stones away to clear the soil for plowing-- those were some of the things he missed most about the life he had once led, the life he wished more than anything he could go back to.

Bracing himself, Piotr pushed upward against the metal, only to find it resisting far more than he expected. He pushed harder, welcoming the challenge as a test to his strength, and yet the lump still did not move. Surprised, he adjusted his grip and pushed upwards against the stubborn metal, feeling it begin to mold its shape to the shape of his arms. He was confused. He knew his strength, and knew he was easily capable of lifting something this size.

"Can I help?" a voice called from above him.

"Thank you, Meggan. Yes," Piotr replied, standing away and watching the blonde woman glide gently down from the sky. "I am confused. This block is only small; I should be able to lift it easily."

"That's because it's stuck, silly," she replied. "I saw you trying to force it loose from above and took a deeper look into it. This lump is stuck fast to the building. I imagine the explosion welded the metal to it--you were trying to lift the whole building from its foundations!"

"I should have realized."

"Oh, no. You couldn't see it from outside, the metal's only fused in a few places. I could only see it by feeling my way into the rock of the building, something that Moira has been teaching me to do recently."

"So it cannot be moved?"

"Well, I think there's something I can do about it, if you'll just stand back?" Meggan moved round to a bare part of the side of the building, her bare feet easily avoiding the sharp lumps of metal on the ground. With a quick smile at him she lifted her hands and put her newly discovered mutant abilities to use. Empathically 'feeling' her way into the fused rock and metal she reached out and gently coaxed the molecules of rock away from the molecules of the metal, separating the two objects without doing any more damage to the building than was already there.

"There. You should be able to lift it now."

He put his arms under the metal and once more pushed against it. This time it lifted with little resistance, and he was able to carry it away to a clear area for Brian to dispose of, leaving the front of the building clear to repair the damage there. "Spaceeba, Meggan."

With a grin and a wave she flew off, leaving him to his work.

***
Predictably, almost the minute their suitcases hit the floor in the guest quarters Moira was standing ready to guide Hank to the computer room to start the refitting. "Why doon't I show ye to our wee library, Cassie?" she suggested. "Or would ye rather jist poke about the place yersel'?"

"The library would be fine," she answered hastily. And so within minutes of her arrival, Cassie found herself in a serviceable old lounger, happily starting a Dick Francis she had somehow never read. This peaceable state of affairs lasted a good ten minutes, until a young woman, red-headed and bearing distinctly pointed ears, walked in.

"Och, I'm nae interrupting you, am I?" the intruder apologized immediately. "I was jus' looking f'r something new...."

"Please, come on in," Cassie replied, forcing the chair upright with some difficulty, then struggling out of it to her feet. "I'm only reading in here because the electricity is off in the room we're staying in."

"Then ye mus' be the one...that is...the lady with...I mean to say, Dr. McCoy's...er...." The girl's initial expression of shy friendliness was rapidly shifting to one of acute embarrassment.

"Yes, that's me," Cassie admitted, jumping in before conversation became hopelessly unredeemable. "And I haven't been able to decide what to call myself to Hank's friends, so don't feel bad." She stuck out the hand not holding the book. "My name's Cassie."

"I'm Rahne," said the other, relieved to be back on sure social ground. "It's verra nice to have ye visit us."

"Thanks," Cassie replied. "I was a little worried I would just be in the way, but Hank..." She paused, having to search for the right words now herself. "...thought it would be okay." She ended with a little apologetic shrug.

"Och, o'course it is!" Rahne hastened to say, happy to take the role of a reassuring hostess. "We enjoy company verra much--especially folk who won't bring the place crashin' doon aroun' our ears."

"I'd only do that by tripping over something crucial bracing up the remaining walls," Cassie laughed. "Which isn't at all impossible, I have to warn you."

Rahne joined in the laughter as she gracefully settled down on a nearby hassock. "Then we'll just keep ye away from t'ither side until our stout lads finish shiftin' the loose bits--which should be quite soon, I'm sure," she added, changing to a serious tone.

Perhaps it was Rahne's age, or her ingenuous air; somehow she didn't trigger the nervous reaction, that feeling of being judged and found inadequate, which made it so difficult for Cassie to interact with most strangers. Cassie dropped back down into her chair with a grateful smile. "Yes, it looked like things were well in hand when we passed by coming in from the plane."

"Did ye have a nice flight?"

Cassie tried to fight down a blush, recalling it. "Oh, yes, very nice." She suddenly hoped her new friend wasn't one of the telepathic type of mutants. "I've never flown in a private jet before.

Rahne leaned forward, her intense interest in all things involving relationships temporarily overcoming her usual diffidence. "It seems verra romantic, f'r Dr. McCoy tae be bringin' ye here with him," she hinted.

"Yes," Cassie said, eyes twinkling now. "Like something in a book."

"The kind o' book with a proposal at th' end?" Rahne ventured further, with a mischievous look that made her look even younger for a moment.

For some reason, that made Cassie blush again. "We...we might get married sometime," she murmured, thinking of the previous night's phone conversation with Hank's parents. It had been a struggle not to laugh at Hank's expressions as he answered questions about his new relationship, questions that had clearly grown less and less subtle. But he hadn't tried to change the subject, or deflect his folks from the conclusions they were obviously drawing....

"'Might?'" This made Rahne quirk her head. "Are ye...tryin' to decide if ye love him first?"

"Oh, I love him," Cassie asserted instantly. "More than I ever imagined was possible."

Rahne looked instantly dubious, then compassionate. "Is it that... he's nae sure yet?"

"I think he would marry me," Cassie said quietly. She studied the other's elfin, earnest face. "But I don't want to break another--I mean...I don't want to be wrong...again."

"What d'ye mean...if I'm nae too bold askin'?"

"I was married once already. It didn't...work out like I expected."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. You're...divorced?" said Rahne, honest sympathy quickly crowding out her momentary shock.

Cassie nodded. It was a relief, in a way, to talk to someone who seemed to share her feeling that divorce wasn't something done lightly. "It was because he went insane and tried to kill me," she explained.

"Oh!" Rahne sat straight up, horrified and indignant. "But that's--!" She didn't seem to be able to find words awful enough to express her disapproval. "His own wife!"

"I don't think he meant it personally, if you know what I mean," Cassie explained. "I mean, he couldn't help it. I don't think."

Cassie's new friend's brows drew together, which somehow made them look much bushier for just an instant. "But surely ye aren't afraid of Dr. McCoy doin' the same?"

"Oh, no! No, nothing like that." 'Does Hank think I think that?' Cassie wondered in brief dismay. "I can't imagine Hank ever even doing anything mean." The girl nodded her agreement, and slumped back into her easy curl on the hassock. "What I worry about is that I'm not worthy of him. He needs someone who can...go through someone blowing up the whole place, and bake cookies as soon as the power's back on." She smiled sadly, sure it was obvious she was not such a paragon.

"Och, well, no one here will be bakin' anythin' fer a while. The kitchen's power cable blew out in the ruckus, so we've been eatin' from cold tins all day." Rahne gave an apologetic smile, as if she had been responsible for looking after the electrical lines, and somehow let the side down when they failed.

Cassie simply stared. "But a place like this...." Whatever else she was going to say went unspoken. "Tell me, is there some handy open bare spot nearby?"

"Plenty," Rahne laughed. "This island's empty, apart fr'm us." She looked at her new friend with interest. "Why?"

"Well, if we can make a little fire, I can camp cook pretty well."

"Ye can? Like in the American Westerns?"

"I'm from the West," Cassie said with delight, thrilled there might be something here she could do that no one else could.

"Oh, somethin' hot to eat would be lovely," said the girl, jumping up. "Tell me what t'do, and I'll help!"

"Great!" The chair creaked as Cassie struggled out of it again. "Let's go skulk through the kitchen, and see what there is to work with!"

***
"Oh my stars and garters...." Hank swept his eyes slowly round what used to be the main computer room, eyeing up the damage to try and imagine just how much was salvageable. The room was, to put it bluntly, a disaster zone. Not a single monitor was unbroken, and the sophisticated Shi'ar enhanced holographic projection unit was lying in a sad little heap near one corner. He had to resist the urge to bow his head and give a moment's silence.

"It's actually no' as bad as it looks," Moira said, moving briskly into the room. "Most of the storage devices are intact, and from what I've been able tae find out, so are most of the information stores. Fortunately young Nate's powers are purely physical--if it'd been someone like Magneto, all the disks would have been wiped immediately." Hands on hips, she glared around at the mess, then sighed. With a wry look at Hank, she added melodramatically, "Mah puir wee bairns."

Hank caught the reference at once. "Why, Moira, you do a wonderful Scotty! Yet another of your talents revealed!"

"Ye'd have to expect I could do Scotty," she pointed out. "It's nae sa marvelous."

"It's just that whenever I try to do imitations, someone invariably suggests with great kindness that I not give up my day job."

"Mmmph. Well, we've got a day's work and more here ahead of us. So let's get to it."

***
(end section A)