<div class="floatleft">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EjgAfJsU0AA_3x4.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Cyclops</strong></span><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Scott Summers<br/><strong>Age:</strong>23<br/><strong>Gender Identity:</strong>Male<br/><strong>Location/Time:</strong>Entering the mansion's main foyer and transitioning to the great room<br/><strong>Description/Wearing:</strong>colorblind dot ugly Xmas sweater, snug jeans, boots.  Ruby quartz glasses and then the trademark visor.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The main doors to the grand foyer opened and a rush of cold wind battered into the warmth of the venerable estate's main building.  There was a soft grunt and a few sounds of working at the ropes and moments later a seven foot evergreen tree came through the open space, top first, most of the body being guided through before it was tipped upward and the entirely smooth "cut" end rested on one of the throw rugs used to soften and warm and elegant hardwood flooring.  Holding it up, and fumbling the doors closed behind him, was a young man who was tall with a slender but fit build, wind tousled brown hair, and a pair of red lensed glasses.<br/><br/>Scott Summers sighed then as he felt the mansion's warmth reasserting itself into him as well as the surrounding air.  He probably should have bundled up more when going outside but he had also expected more help with the tree.  Meaning any help with the tree.  But that was all right.  Solitude wasn't a bad thing and the cold, dark, snowy evening outside was good for thinking.  Some would say he did too much of that as it was, though.<br/><br/>He winced as he heard Jean bellowing, not that he'd think the word in her presence, about the tree.  He was behind, it seemed.  The special present he'd been working on with Hank had finally gotten finished, they were pretty sure, earlier but taken more time than he'd wanted it to.  Which pushed everything back.  Given that he then had to get the tree by himself...<br/><br/>And still did.  From here to the great room.  Scott shifted to look around the tree at the main hallway which would take him there.  He could carry the tree the whole way; it wasn't terribly heavy for the athletic mutant.  But it was awkward and would likely bump against the walls and ceiling.  And make a mess.<br/><br/>Options.<br/><br/>Assets.<br/><br/>The tree.  The sled outside.  The ropes on the sled.  The smooth and well waxed hardwood floors.  The rugs on them, one slightly askew from where it had slid under someone's feet.<br/><br/>"That'll do."<br/><br/>Minutes later, there would be a soft hum in the hallway, getting louder to those in the great room as it was clearly approaching.  It was not a person humming or singing as Jean had earlier.  It was a sound that would be vaguely familiar to many of those who lived here but they'd not heard it quite like this before.  It was an energetic sound and there was a lower sounds underneath it of a whissing rush, the rustle of evergreen boughs, and a faint wooden creak.  A red glow accompanied it, also growing brighter as it approached.  Scott Summers sailed into the great room on one of the longer throw rugs; the tree was on the end in front of him with a rope tied securely near the top and another at the bottom, both held by the young mutant.  The tree was bent in a curve as a thin and surprisingly gentle red beam was focused on it, turning it into a "sail" for the rug and Scott himself to ride down the hallway on.<br/><br/>His glasses were swapped out for his visor, the device the only thing that let him operate his power with this level of precision and control.  Now that the tree was out in front of him, he was surprisingly lightly clad for being outside.  Sturdy black boots, jeans that were a bit old and worn but fit well to his legs and hips, and a Christmas sweater in garish red and green.  While many of the decorations on it where the normal kind, there was also a great smattering of the red and orange dots used for colorblind tests and they spelled out among the merry Christmas items "Screw the colorblind."<br/><br/>It had been a gift from Wolverine last year.  It amused Scott to wear it now and see how people would react to it and if they would think he knew what it said or not.  Since he couldn't actually see the lettering, given that everything was red to him and he was functionally colorblind.  But Jean had told him what was on it last year.<br/><br/>The tree sailed into the great room with Scott behind it, riding the polished floor until he cut off his beam and then continuing another few feet on momentum before coming to a stop at the edge of the the reindeer cloth that had been spread on the ground as the resting place of the tree.  "Sorry about that, Jean, I-"<br/><br/>He stared for a few moments at Deadpool trying to crush a present with a fireplace poker, noting where the man's mug of hot cocoa had ended up, and pursed his lips.  Then he sighed.  "I'll just take care of this then, while you..."  Deal with that?  Shaking his head, he asked, "Deadpool, have you had any cookies yet?  Maybe you need to build up your strength before thrashing that present."  It might distract the man for a few moments.  It looked Scott wouldn't be sticking around for much of the festivities after all.  He was so<em>loud</em>.  For an introvert, there was already a lot of noise at a time like this to have Deadpool on top of it.<br/>