Chapter 45 – Enter Moira MacTaggert
The front door creaked open. Banshee froze in the doorway, eyes going wide.
Standing there was a tall woman in her thirties, suitcase in one hand. Her hair was tied back but still framed her face in soft waves. Blue eyes sharp enough to cut glass scanned the hall before landing on him. She wore simple clothes — slacks and a blouse, no nonsense — but carried herself like someone who'd marched through fire before.
Banshee nearly swallowed his tongue. "Ah… good mornin', lass. Did heaven lose an angel, or have I died and gone to paradise?"
Moira raised an eyebrow. "If you're trying to charm me, you're failing. Now are you going to step aside, or do I have to move you myself?"
Sean sputtered, tripped over his words, and scrambled out of her way. She strode past without a second glance, suitcase swinging easily at her side.
"Sharp tongue," Sean muttered under his breath, watching her walk. "I like a challenge."
She followed the sounds of clinking cutlery into the dining room. Conversation died as soon as she entered. Every pair of eyes turned to her.
Moira set her suitcase down and straightened, posture confident but calm. "Moira MacTaggert. Professor Xavier's new housekeeper. Pleased tae meet ye."
The silence stretched a beat longer before Kurt broke it with a grin. "Ach, so this is the one saving us from dirty laundry! Willkommen, Fräulein."
Storm inclined her head politely. "We are grateful for your help."
Colossus smiled warmly. "Yes. Please, sit. You are welcome here."
Sunfire only scowled, muttering, "Ridiculous."
Logan leaned back in his chair, sniffing the air. 'Not just soap and perfume. She smells like gun oil. Like someone who's seen combat.' His eyes narrowed slightly, though the smirk stayed on his lips. "Housekeeper, huh. Sure."
Banshee stumbled in behind her, trying again with a hopeful grin. "So, Moira, if you ever need a strong pair o' hands around the house—"
She cut him off flatly. "I'll manage."
Sean winced, the others chuckling under their breath.
Xavier smiled warmly at her. "Everyone, please welcome Moira. She'll be taking care of the mansion in my absence. Treat her with respect."
Moira's gaze swept the table, cool and steady. She didn't flinch under the stares, didn't soften her edge. She simply took a seat, folding her hands neatly in her lap, completely unfazed by the circus around her.
Logan's smirk deepened as he watched her. 'Yeah. This one ain't just here to mop floors.'