<div class="floatleft">(http://www.herinterest.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/2aeefa1ba176e0b26b64979a1c25f2af.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name:</strong>Christopher Hayes aka Shrike<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>((17:01 PM), 07th of July 2016<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Xavier School for gifted youngsters, Westchester, Upstate New York, War-Room<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Storm any others present<br/><strong>Warnings:</strong>None<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Christopher swelled with pride at her praise.  He practically floated, without using his wings, over to the coffee maker.  "How do you take it?" he asked, pouring a mug.  Knowing how Storm took her coffee was, to him, one step short of knowing state secrets.  It gave him a certain level of pride, having that one thing that few others had.  "Black or with a little cream?"<br/><br/>His hand froze when he saw the ashy residue that dusted his fingers.  He wiped it aside.  Over the past week, he'd found three feathers that were grey, rather than black.  Each of them crumbled to dust when he'd examined them.  It puzzled, rather than worried him.  His feathers were carbon fiber, rather than actual keratin.  Obviously he'd encountered something that had dripped on him that he wasn't aware of.  A few decent showers and he'd be fine.<br/><br/>"If you want to sneak onto a flying island, you'll need cover.  Either a heavy fog or a heavy rain," he said.  He'd shamelessly looked over her shoulder to see what she'd been doing.  The view of her cleavage hadn't been exactly been unwelcome either.  "The problem is, if you whip up that kind of weather, they'll know you're coming.  If it happens naturally, they can't blame you for it, can they?"<br/><br/>