Petra glanced at Martin, who was as on edge as she'd ever seen him.  The handsome man had been fairly tolerant of her own eccentricities, and she, for one, admired his optimism and his ability to smile in the face of certain destruction.  Which never seemed quite so certain when he was involved.  Not the she let it show very often; in private she'd given him some words of faint praise, which for her was tantamount to a brass-band-fanfare.<br/><br/>Gwen spoke and caught her full attention once more.  She ran one thumb along the palm of her opposite hand, thinking back.  "Broodmother.  I remember her.  On the news.  She was something different."  Petra frowned, wondering what the outcast among outcasts was doing watching a wedding.  Her eyes flashed to the side, noticing the other handsome fellow, the one from Vegas.  More fidgeting, more signs of restlessness and nerves.  So many independents, so many invites to mutants she wasn't familiar with.<br/><br/>Not that the ones she did know were all that much better.  "If they don't start the wedding soon, someone is going to do something stupid.  If they do start the wedding soon, someone else may do something stupid."  Her weird aqua eyes moved from Gwen to Martin unhappily.