"Aye... so should Wizardess Mystique. She never got over Uncle Sean. And she never wears nice things. Just her old clothes with a clean robe over them. She rarely laughs unless it is because she sees little ones playing or baby animals. Even then it is usually just a big smile. She needs a special friend of some sort. I am glad that it is your father because I like you and your  father both." Dermot spoke.<br/><br/>Mystique sat down at her desk in her room to make a few notes then she laid down on her bed just in her under clothes to rest. She had been pushing herself too hard lately and had hid many worries.