Hunter and Tate
"Argh."
"Argh?" Hunter repeated. "What's argh?"
"Argh is 'I hate Americans and their paranoid delusions'," Tate replied from her sprawl on the lounge.
"Ahh, I see. Aren't you technically an American citerzen?"
"Aren't you? Hey, maybe I should rub that in their faces," Tate rolled her eyes.
Hunter snickered.
"So, what's the problem? Negociating giving you a headache?"
"Yes. The irony is that we've basically got all the other terms worked out. It's just this... this who mutant rights thing that has their poor little heads in a turmoil. That and the fact that there's one negtociater in particular that keeps expecting us to turn into some kind of monster the moment his back is turned."
"Ahh, I see. Well," and Hunter lifted his drink. "Here's hoping he never meets the Adigei. He's probably have a heart attack."
"And then he'd die, and I wouldn't have to deal with him. I think it's a great idea."
Hunter laughed.