"Hey, lady. Whatcha doin' out so late, all by yourself?" a skinny kid with a sloppy mohawk asked, slipping down from the dumpster he had been perched on. The woman wiped her wet hair out of her face as the rain slackened to a drizzle. The kid adjusted the collar on his black leather jacket. "Now, what if somethin' was t' happen to a pretty lady like you?" He took her chin between his fingers and lifted her head.

As she backed away from him, wrenching her chin roughly out of his hand, another kid, this one covered with pimples and sparse facial hair, came up behind her and grabbed her arm. "Hey, lady, you might wanna be a little more friendly to Mitch." He began to twist her arm roughly. When she raised her fist to punch him, another thug grabbed her other arm.

"I dunno who you think you're dealin' wit', bitch, but we're the Pirahnas," he said, lisping around his tongue and lip piercings. He had so many piercings in his face, he looked like he could have gotten a day job as a pincushion. "You might wanna make nice, if you know what's good for you."

Mitch stepped closer and began to open her jacket as his cronies pinned her arms to her side. She tried to resist, but a fourth thug held a knife to her throat. "Now, listen, honey, if you cooperate, we'll keep things nice and easy, huh? You keep on fidgeting, we'll have to teach you to hold still. Keep the knife on her, Raven." Mitch began to paw her chest, smiling viciously as he gave her nipple a hard twist. Before she even had time to cry out, however, a steel trash can smashed into Raven's stomach, sending him hurtling backwards. As everyone else turned to see who threw it, a massive person charged at the pimply-faced kid, knocking him to the ground beside Raven.

"Snake!" Mitch yelled. Taking advantage of the distraction caused by the interloper, the woman cocked her fist back and hit the pierced guy in his mouth, temple and chest with quick, hard blows, knocking him off of her arm. As he looked up, dazed, from the ground, her work boot connected with his jaw.

Her rescuer, however, had Mitch clinging to his back as Snake and Raven jabbed at him with knives. With an agility that seemed uncanny in someone so large, he dodged between the knives and swiftly kicked both boys in the face. Easily throwing Mitch off of his back and into the other two, he flipped onto his hands and helicopter kicked all three of them into the walls of the houses on both sides of the narrow street.

"Wow, that was incredible! I think I owe you a little more than my dignity," she said, approaching the stranger as he stood, wiping debris off of his clothes. The man suddenly hissed in pain and staggered back against the wall, clutching his upper arm. "Oh God, you're hurt! I'm so sorry." She rushed over to him to get a look at his arm.

"I'm quite all right, madam. I only hope those degenerates didn't do you any harm," he said calmly, turning away from her so he remained hidden by the shadows. "If you're all right, I should probably be on my way." As he started to walk away, she grabbed his unhurt arm.

"You got injured trying to help me. The least I can do is look at it." He turned away slightly as she reached for his arm.

"I'm quite all right." When she touched his arm, however, he let out a low moan of pain. "Well, all right, I've seen better days."

"I live just down the street. I would really feel better if you come along and let me take a look at that arm." She began to lead him by his uninjured arm.

"Well, if it serves to assure you that I am in no immediate danger, I'll do as you ask. Not that I really have a choice," he added with a nervous chuckle.

When she got him onto her stoop and opened the door, the light from her foyer hit him in the face. She turned to look at him briefly. He was tall, at least six feet, with a broad build and large muscles. He was also covered in blue fur, with pointed ears and elongated canines jutting up from his lower jaw over his upper lip. He stood back in apprehension as she looked him over silently. "Well, let's get in here and get a look at that arm. That wound's not going to dress itself."

The man was slightly taken aback by this woman's reaction, or lack thereof. However, he followed her into the house, closing the door behind him with a nudge from his foot. She led him into the kitchen and gestured him into a chair. "All right, let's see it," she said in a brisk, businesslike tone. He stripped off his jacket and shirt laboriously, wincing slightly as he pulled his injured arm out of the sleeves. His entire chest and arms were covered with the same blue fur that covered his face and neck, but the woman didn't seemed to be shocked or surprised. "That looks pretty bad. Won't know for sure until we clean it though." She went to the sink and washed her hands, then reached into a cabinet and pulled out a large first aid kit.

She set the kit on the kitchen table and pulled a chair up close to him. Soaking a clean gauze pad with distilled water, she began to wipe away the blood. "Not as bad as it looks, thank goodness," she muttered half to herself. "The bleeding's already slowing." As blood oozed slowly from the cut, she put two gauze pads onto it and wrapped it firmly with clean bandages. "Okay, you're all set. You might need a few stitches, but provided you keep it clean, you shouldn't have any problems."

The man seemed at a loss for words. "Thank you," he finally said, looking at her with mild surprise.

"The least I could do for the man who saved my life. Is there something wrong?" she added, seeing the look on his face.

"No, not really. I'm just a little, well, bewildered. Most people would take one glimpse of my rather beastly countenance and react with fear or distaste, at the very least. Not very many people would offer me any aid as you have."

"Well, I do owe you my dignity, if not my life. I honestly see no need to be afraid of mutants. It makes about as much sense to me as being afraid of a blind person, or a foreigner. We're all just people, after all." She shrugged and put the first aid kit back. "It's pretty cold outside. Would you like something warm to drink? Hot chocolate, coffee, tea?"

"A cup of hot chocolate is fine if it's not too much bother."

"No bother at all." She filled a tea kettle and put it on to boil. "I only have the instant stuff. Is that all right?"

"That will be just fine." He looked around her kitchen as she sat back down. It seemed very warm and cozy, well-used and cared for, like he felt a kitchen should.

"I'm sorry. In all of the excitement, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I'm Calliope Guinness. My friends all call me Calli. What's yours?"

"I'm Dr. Henry McCoy. My friends call me Hank, although some use my more dubious monniker, Beast." He offered his hand for her to shake. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Guinness."

She shook his hand warmly. "Please, call me Calli. After all of the help you've given me tonight, I hope I can count you among my friends."

He smiled a bit uncertainly. "If you could only see how crimson my skin's gone under my fur," he said with a chuckle. He carefully put his shirt back on, the black dye hiding the blood stains well. They began to talk for a few minutes about general events in the news, stopping only briefly as Calli began to make the hot chocolate. Calli absently brushed her brown hair out of her eyes as they talked, listening avidly as Hank recounted how he learned about his mutant powers.

After what seemed like only a few minutes, Hank glanced at his watch. "My stars and garters, would you look at the time? I was supposed to be home an hour ago," he exclaimed. He quickly drained his third cup of hot chocolate and stood to put on his jacket.

Calli stood too, amazed that they had been talking almost three hours. "I've probably kept you away from your wife long enough." She stretched a little and fixed her shirt.

"Wife?" Hank repeated, stopping with his jacket only half on. He finished putting it on, zipping it up halfway. "No, I'm not married. I don't have a girlfriend either. I live at a sort of boarding school and I'm sure the students are a bit concerned that I'm out so late. It's a tad unusual, but given the circumstances, I'm sure they'll forgive me."

Calli laughed, a pleasant, tinkling sort of sound that did much to warm the heart. "Well, I can only hope that they'll forgive me for keeping their teacher out so late."

Hank smiled. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Calli, despite the inauspicious circumstances under which we met." He shook her hand again. "I do hope we can meet again sometime."

Calli tore a sheet off of the memo pad on her refrigerator and jotted down her phone number. "Well, call me anytime. I'm sure we can work something out."

"I look forward to it." Calli walked Beast to the door and let him out, not closing the door until he was well on his way down the block.

As soon as Beast got back to the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, he met Logan just inside the door. "Where ya been, blue boy? I was just gettin' ready t' come lookin' fer ya."

"I was... unavoidably detained briefly." Beast walked past Logan, who turned and followed him.

"Wouldn't happen t' have somethin' to do with why ya smell like blood, would it?"

"Astute as always, Logan. It has everything to do with why I smell like blood. I shall tell you all about it as I can see your curiosity demands satisfaction." Beast's voice was filled with amused resignation. Beast led Wolverine into his room and sat on his bed while Logan sat in a chair at his desk.

"So, what happened, bub?" Beast summarized his encounter with Calli, leaving out the details of their extended conversation. "She bandaged up yer arm and gave ya a cup of cocoa. How sweet. She pretty?"

"Is she 'pretty'? My dear friend, the word does her absolutely no justice. She's absolutely lovely. Radiant really, with a beautiful disposition and the most remarkable eyes I've ever seen."

"Ya gonna call her?"

"I haven't decided yet," Beast said, glancing at her phone number as he laid it on his nightstand.

"C'mon, Hank. How many sweet, beautiful women are gonna be able to look past th' blue fur and see the hairball we all know and love?" Logan examined the frayed end of his toothpick and began to chew the other end thoughtfully.

"You're right. You're absolutely right. I'll call her tomorrow. No, if I call her tomorrow, I might seem desperate. I'll call her the day after."

"Right, you do that," Logan said, sounding thoroughly bored. "Just let me know when yer next date is so I know not t' wait up." He stood, stretched and left, closing the door behind him. Beast took off his clothes, throwing away his ruined shirt and jacket, then climbed into bed.

The next morning, he awoke when the sunlight from the window fell onto his face. He showered and changed, blow drying and brushing his fur while he had the bathroom to himself. He always got up at dawn, before the rush for the bathrooms began. He cleaned up his things and headed down to the lab to get a start on his day.

As he continued his research on mutagens, he was continually distracted by thoughts of Calliope. He found himself needing to reread papers twice, even three times, because of his lapses in concentration. "I haven't seen you this distracted since the harpist from the Philharmonic died in that bus crash three years ago."

Beast started so badly, he dropped the empty test tube he was holding. "Oh, hello, Jubilee. I didn't hear you come in."

"Apparently not," she laughed as she went to get Dr. McCoy a new test tube. He cleaned up the shards of the first and disposed of them before responding.

"Yes, well, I had a rather interesting evening last night." He removed his lab coat gingerly and took off his glasses. "What brings you down to my little corner of the world?"

"I'm hiding from Cyclops. He wants to put me through my seventh training session in four days. I figured he wouldn't look for me here." Beast chuckled and took a book out of a drawer. "You're not going to make me read more Chaucer are you? If you are, I think I'd be better off with that training session."

"No, I came across this book while browsing for a few of my own favorites. I thought you might find it interesting." He handed her a book on fashion design. "It has the most recent fashion trends I could find. I hope you'll enjoy it."

Jubilee flipped through the pages and smiled. "Wow, these are really cool! I think I could make some of these." She sat on a spare stool and read the book, becoming absorbed almost immediately. Beast chuckled appreciatively and went back to his papers. Suddenly, the door to the lab slammed open.

"There you are, Jubilee." Cyclops stormed in. "You're due for a training session."

"Come on, Cyclops! Even my aches have aches!" Cyclops marched Jubilee to the door, his hand wrapped firmly around her upper arm. Almost immediately, there was a flash of light in the corridor and Jubilee went running up the hall, Cyclops staggering blindly behind her. Beast chuckled and got back to work.

He worked endlessly the rest of the day and on into the next. As he worked, he lost all track of time. He was getting ever closer to a big breakthrough. He hummed as he worked, a bit of Vivaldi here, a few measures of Bach there, a whole movement of Bartok. Suddenly, Calliope walked in. "How did you get into my lab?" She held a finger up to her lips and shushed him.

As he watched, she began to examine the calculations he made on his vast chalkboard. She picked up an eraser and began to change the symbols, replacing an entire equation. As he watched, his eyes widened with a dawning revelation. He stepped past her and studied the calculations closely. Just as he was turning thank Calliope, he felt someone shaking his shoulder roughly. He sat bolt upright, nearly knocking his clipboard full of notes onto the floor. He looked around quickly. There was no sign of Calliope.

"I'm startin' t' think yer workin' too hard, Blue Boy," Wolverine said, chewing slowly on a toothpick. "This is the fourth time I've caught ya sleepin' at yer work table in two weeks." Beast suddenly looked quite alert and began to bustle about his lab table. "What's up with you?"

"I think I've just gotten a visit from my Muse. Just a moment." Beast tried to recall the calculations he saw Calliope jotting in his dream. He began to reproduce her work, utilizing it in his latest experiment, carefully mixing reagents and heating them over his Bunsen burner. He added the last chemical warily, a few drops at a time. Suddenly, the solution changed colors twice and fizzed. Then it stabilized. He added a few drops of the concoction to his specimen and watched its reaction dubiously. "Ha! Success! I've finally managed to reproduce the mutagenic compound tested on the mutant captives near Borneo."

"Fascinating," Wolverine said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So, now that you've found th' cure t' cancer, or whatever you were doin', are yeh gonna call yer girlfriend."

Beast's face fell comically. "Do what now?" he said quickly, trying to cover the awkward silence.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "You heard me. When yeh callin' her?"

"I've been having second thoughts about the whole thing. One act of kindness does not constitute a friendship." Beast began to nervously spin a pen on his stool as he avoided Logan's eye.

"Uh huh. Well, if she's as cute as you say she is, maybe I should give 'er a call myself," Logan said, pulling a sheet of paper out of his pocket. "Calliope, huh? Nice name."

"You give that back," Beast said, struggling to keep his voice calm. "You have no right to take things from my room." Logan held the scrap of paper out of reach as Beast made a grab for it.

"Nah, if yer too chicken t' call her, I will." Logan walked towards the door.

"Fine, you've made your point. I'll call her later."