Scott peeked in the door of the bedroom. Good. Jean was asleep. He smiled and headed for the kitchen. He opened the cupboard and dug through to the back, behind the can of pork brains in milk gravy Bobby'd bought for a joke. He'd have to make Bobby eat those someday. Ah, there it was! His LAST candy bar. He'd been afraid Jean would find it. This was one GOOD thing about Jean's power loss. It was always so hard to keeep his junk stash a secret. His hand closed over the Snickers bar. Mm. Chocolate. Peanuts. Caramel. He peeled away the wrapper, drooling profusely. Yum. He hadn't had a Snickers in AGES. The candy was gone too soon, and he looked for more. He was SURE there'd been at least five left. He pawed through the mass of jelly beans, Starburst, and Lifesavers. Scott didn't want FRUIT candy. He bloody well wanted CHOCOLATE! Where was his chocolate?
Cyclops noted some wrappers on the table. He picked them up. Four of them. Who would eat FOUR of his Snickers bars? Who would be dumb enough to leave the wrappers in palin view? Who knew where his candy was? He grippedthe wrappers in his hand so they made that nice crinkly noise he loved. He heard a curse hiss from beneath the table. It was a French curse. The source of the curse tried to get up and run away, but hit its head on the underside of the table. "Oww!" it said, with a Cajun accent. Scott looked under the table. He put on his best leader voice.
"Remy...what are you doing under there?"
"Um. Would y' believe I was catchin' mice?"
"No."
"Oh, erm, heh. Look a' de time." Remy cast an anxious glance over in the direction of the glow-in-the-dark digital clock on the microwave. It said "2:47." He tried to bolt. Scott grabbed him by the shoulder. He looked down at his feet and faked a yawn.
"Um, I'm really tired, so if y'll let me go, I'll just..."
Scott fixed him with a cruel, icy stare.
"Okay, okay. I'll pay y' back."
"Good. next time, buy your OWN candy."