12497/The Aristocrats

The Aristocrats
Date of Scene:	19 August 2022
Location:	Classroom - West
Synopsis:	Aristocrats gonna Aristocrat. Chatting about lessons plans and politics.
Cast of Characters:	Michael Erickson, Emma Frost

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Michael Erickson has posed:
    He has spent a great deal of time in the mansion of late, shuttered in the classroom; having fallen into a far more casual mein, he has traded in his gray suit for khakis, dress shirt and an Eisenhower jacket, bearing suspicious darning in places. Anyone who's done any street fighting knows sewn-up knife cuts when they see one. Yet his air has been far more assured of late, far more confident - if, one might know, much more detached. Less...human, perhaps. If you listen to the gossip anyway.

    Tonight, while the student body is winding down for sleep hours, the alien spy and soldier sits writing in a notebook, pen held between the middle and ring finger rather than the usual. His thumb is what does the work, twiddling the instrument to make glyphic scratches across the paper - not English, certainly. But then again it's only natural. Lips pursed very slightly, he scribbles away, very intent on his work...

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost has spent her time dealing with other things. As of recently the horrible deal that was the Shadow King and Charles. Then, back to her own affairs in business and all the spillover that had. No planetary invasions for a month or two at least had given her some time over to focus on other things as she would wander on down, hearing the scratches.
    "Ah, greetings Mister Erickson. I wasn't aware that you were back in residence here. I hope that whatever your.. Business has been it has gone successfully." Emma has some thoughts as to what he does, but out of politeness and deniability has never asked quite so directly

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Life carries me where I'm required, Miss Frost." A polite smile, though he does not yet look up from his writing; the matter of the woman's appearance does not surprise, though perhaps the hour might. "The new term begins soon and there is much to discuss with the new images coming in from the latest telescopes in orbit. Gives me something of an excuse to further tear down the students' mundane astronomical paradigm." He never stops writing as he speaks; the scratching of the pen's nib on paper provides a rasping rhythm. "And you? What brings you to the school at this hour?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would shrug, "Oh, merely performing a sweep. Recent events have lead me to try and keep somewhat of a closer eye upon things astrally and to make sure that we're all circulating in case there's anything left over that we missed." Jean and Betsy may or may not be doing any sort of thing similarly. Emma would of course presume they were. And likely the other numerous telepaths at the school were their own.
    "And how fares thier calculations then?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Hardly my wheelhouse, alas," he replies, finishing up a line of text with a flourish; Michael caps his pen, setting it down and looking up at the telepathic titan with the same easy smile. "And no calculations, only lesson plans. Classes haven't started yet, after all." A gesture, then, to one of the seats with a broad, callused hand. "Do you wish to sit down?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would nod, "Very well. So how did you decide to here on Earth teach astronomy of all things? Earth's still only a few centuries in to acknowledging that it spins around the sun rather than the other way around." Well, at least within European culture. Virtually every single other one that had developed astronomy and mathematics went otherwise.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    The question rates a laugh. "Because it's what I know," he replies, "As a citizen of the universe - and not a poorly-educated one, either. And of course, intergalactic political theory doesn't translate to mundane course credits. Nor does the wide variety of espionage and combat skills that I can provide instruction in. So! Astronomy it is." His brows lift faintly. Something behind those blue eyes, not quite as dreamy. Sharper. Like a hawk's. Predatory. "And you? Are you a student of the stars?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would nod over and lean over, "I have enough things planet-bound wtihout having to worry about the particulars of interstellar political conflicts. I've read the general briefings on the Shi'Ar leadership and the Imperial Guard, and on the major powers.. But, admittedly the skies themselves hold quite little awareness for me."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    A soft tutting is his reply, followed with a shake of his head. "If you don't look up, Miss Frost, you'll find the sky crashing down on you otherwise. Perhaps better to know what could come than not." He shrugs, then, and leans back in his chair to regard her. "So. My people have a place here now, apparently. I assume that the school leadership knows better than to trust them, Imperatrix or no."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would nod over, "Yes. My understanding of it is not necessarily that we're a threat, but by the virtue of attention and resources it would take to properly subjugate here would lead to more irritations elsewhere from the assets they would have to redeploy and the sheer number of metahuman combatants required. Diplomacy is an art of conflict the same as any other battlefield."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Essentially, yes," he replies with a nod. "But never underestimate the danger that pride represents. The Imperatrix may not want a quarrel with us, but there are many factions in the Empire." Another shrug. "I am not a part of the administration; I do not know what they know. But, I speak as I find."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would smile, "Of course. I do not presume. And politics is rarely the art of rationality and pragmatism. It is about appearance, strife, and viewpoints. The Empire can hardly be seen as being afraid of such a small planet far out of the galactic sphere or deferring to it internally."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "It resists," he points out. "And it defeated Imperial forces. And there is me, of course. It makes traitors of Imperial soldiers." Michael chuckles, perhaps a tad bitterly around the edges. "And a member of the aristocracy, no less. Wars have started for less."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would mm, "Of course. So I suppose that it means somewhere down the line if and when leadership changes that we'll have to be aware and ready for such things. That is why one has diplomats and warriors, and hpoefully a unified front internally."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "That is the hope." He picks up his pen, then, and taps the cap upon his desk. "Well. I suppose I should get about my work. Thank you for coming by, Miss Frost. Certainly we shall see each other again."